The silence consumed the room like a solid thing, filling in the words that Percy couldn't bring himself to say. He stared at the defeated slump of Corvus' shoulders and the guilt spread through him like an infection, crackling through his veins, making him remember that even now, he couldn't save his team. He'd failed them again.

Percy averted his gaze and stood up sharply. He ignored the voice in his head that screamed at him to just gather Corvus up into his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay-- that he was going to take care of it. But none of it was true and Percy knew he couldn't say any of it to the other man-- Corvus had to realize the gravity and magnitude to which his drinking was affecting the team. As much as Percy wanted to apologize and comfort and reassure, it wasn't what he had to do.

"Take a few minutes. Clean yourself up," he said, turning away. "Think about what I said. But if I see or hear about you drinking, I'll know what your answer is."

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

Corvus shrunk under Percy’s stare. Quidditch was the only thing he cared about more then the Black. In all honestly Quidditch was the only thing he cared about. Yeah he liked the parties, women, and booze. But it was nothing without Quidditch. Still Corvus had no idea how he was going to manage. It’d been a long time since he’d gone more then a few hours with a drink. The prospect of a day of sobriety was scary enough, but a season of it… Not that he thought he had to worry about the whole season. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Percy was gonna drop him as soon as he could manage another Beater. Yet Corvus had no choice but to hang on and see how long he got to keep doing what he loved. He didn’t say anything to Percy just kept his eyes on the floor, his mind trying to figure out how he was going to do any of this.

Percy ground his jaw, scrutinizing Corvus for several moments. "You think I care?" he asked, the words leaving him cold and steely. "I'm your captain, not your marketing manager. You're here because of the way you fly, not the way you handle your drink. You like your day job more than this one? Door's right there." He stepped aside, looking at the other man expectantly. 

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

Percy’s words had him blinking in surprise. He wasn’t kicked off…yet. There was something about what he’d said that made Corvus think it was just temporary. That Percy was gonna start looking for a new beater. Everything he held dear was just going to be ripped from him. Corvus didn’t know how to deal with that.

Tears stung the back of his eyes as he tried not to think about it. He was so lost in thought he almost missed what else Percy had to say. “What? I can’t—“ The thought of being sober was terrifying. How would he function sober? It was worse then being celibate. Worse then the sober part was the rest of Percy’s sentence. “How the fuck am I suppose to do that? I’m a bloody Quintin, Percy. The Black is our business.” There was fear in his voice now. He knew how far his father was willing to go to maintain his public image. Having Corvus get his arse kicked every fucking day to teach him to toughen up and learn to fight. Avoiding the Black was not something his father would let him get away with. “I swear I’ll be sober on game days but, Percy…” Corvus was stuck, he had no bargaining chips. Whatever Percy did to him he’d have to deal with the consequences for.

Confusion momentarily replaced the anger that filled him, making Percy send an incredulous glance Corvus' way. "What?" he asked, perplexed. He blinked, and suddenly everything slotted into place.

"No, you bloody git, I'm not kicking you off-- where the hell am I going to find a Beater on such short notice?" Percy glared, conspicuously leaving out any mention about talent-- it would be difficult, sure, near impossible even, to find someone marginally on par with Corvus at this point. And even then, that was just the easy part-- getting the rest of the team to go along with a new Wasp? Hell no; the madness would be horrifyingly chaotic. But he was still angry enough at Corvus than that he was willing to let the man believe that he was replaceable.

"You're going to sober the fuck up--" Percy said, stepping forward and pressing a finger in warning to the center of the other's chest. "--And if I see you even look at a bottle of Black until the end of the season, I'll make sure you never wear yellow again." 

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

“You’re kicking me off the team?” Corvus couldn’t breathe. It felt worse then the first time he’d gotten his arse handed to him. Percy could have beaten him to the point of being admitted into St. Mungo’s and it would have felt better then this.

Despite every appearance Quidditch was important to him. The most important thing. Not just Quidditch but the Wasps. If he wasn’t a Wasp he didn’t know what he’d do. Corvus slumped against the bed. Percy yelling and pushing him around was so much better. That he could deal with. The loss of the team…. He wasn’t sure how he’d deal with that.

Red prickled at the edges of his vision as Percy considered, then discarded the first three things that came to mind. He sneered, a sharp, humorless bark of laughter escaping him at Corvus' excuse.

"You fucked up this game before you stepped on the bloody pitch," Percy hissed, taking half a step forward before jerking himself back. Vibrations ran down his arms and he shook with the need to let out his anger, to just break something to pieces. He felt restless, and if he were anyone else, he would've started pacing.

"You can't play like this," he finally said, an uneasy stillness blanketing him. "I'm not letting you on a broom with a drop of Black in you."

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

“No! I’m not pinning it on him! I know I fucked up!” Corvus was angered at the idea that Percy would think he’d pin something this serious on someone else. A teammate. This was his fuck up and he knew it. He and Art might go round and round but he wasn’t about to throw him under the bus, especially not for something he had nothing to do with.

Corvus didn’t understand why Percy didn’t just hit him and get it over with. It was obvious how angry he was. And Corvus saw him clenching his fists…yet no hit came. “I fucked up. I don’t know what happened out there.” He was angry at himself, probably more so then Percy was angry at him. “I’m always focused on the pitch. But I just— I didn’t see it.” He’d been replaying the game in his head and he just didn’t know what had happened. Going without his usual coffee flavoured Black that morning he’d been a little off. Still he thought he and Billy had been doing well. It was a tough game but they were doing it until—  

Percy slumped against one of the carts, rattling the instruments scattered atop the tray. Since fourth year? How had he been so oblivious? It just showed what kind of captain he was that it took a brutal head injury for him to notice that something was off about his team. He shook his head, dismissing Corvus' stammered explanation and then freezing upon hearing Art's name.

"Fawley? You're pinning this on Fawley?" Instantly, all the anger was back, and Percy straightened from his position. His mind whirled-- he didn't even know where to begin, where to focus the sheer, insurmountable wave of disbelief that suddenly overcame him.

"Sit down," he growled, pointing at the bed, his voice leaving no room for argument. However, he kept his space, not trusting his temper enough not to do something stupid. Breathing deeply, he shut his eyes for a moment before facing Corvus with as much calm as he could muster. "We trusted you. We bloody trusted you," Percy said, his fingers clenching into fists. "What the hell are you thinking?"

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

Corvus didn’t attempt to defend himself. He’d fucked up and deserved to be hit so he just braced himself for it when Percy pushed him onto the bed. Eyes scrunched closed he didn’t see Percy take a step back. Instead of what was becoming a familiar feeling of a solid fist hitting his jaw he heard Percy talking.

Blinking he looked over at Percy confused as to why the older man was not hitting him already. “I’ve always— Since fourth year…” Corvus never understood why people seemed determined to think drinking was such a bad thing. Course he drank, he was a Quintin. He’d had his gums slathered in the Black when he was a baby and it had never been that far away since. If lately he’d taken to drinking a little more then usual it wasn’t a problem just a bad spell made better by a familiar comfort. “I’m not an alcoholic, Captain.” Corvus didn’t make a move to get off the bed just glared up at Percy from it. “I’d have been just fine out there, I just…. I haven’t been drinking as much since Fawley moved in. It’s thrown me off. I didn’t—“ Thinking about what happened to Felix drained the anger that had started to build up at being called an alcoholic. “I”m sorry.” The words were almost whispered.

Percy snorted, unconsciously rubbing his two-day-old beard. He was already nudging forty, long past his prime, with a job that consumed him and no energy for anything else. He was attractive, sure, but in the reminiscent way that only reflected his younger years. And the thought of navigating a conversation with a woman-- well, Percy was fairly certain the experience would be highly unpleasant for all parties involved. 

“Thanks for the faith,” he said with a forced smile. Leaning back in his seat, Percy eyed the drink Corvus offered him, momentarily conflicted, before he shook his head and and motioned for a server. “Butterbeer,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. He’d never really cared for the drink-- it was overwhelmingly sweet-- but Connie had favored it. 

“If I keep it up, you’ll have to carry me home,” Percy said lightly. The drink appeared before him in a second, frothy and amber. “Maybe you should slow down too,” he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Just like old times? || Papa & Cor

Corvus felt awkward, it was almost as bad as when his older brother had tried telling him about the facts of life. Sadly for both Quintin boys everything he knew had come from those wildly exaggerated stories lads tell each other when they’re all virgins but don’t want to admit it. Falling back on his usual lad talk wasn’t going to work with Percy. He’d already made that mistake once, wasn’t going to repeat it. 

Still Corvus plunged in and tried to be supportive. “Don’t say that Perce, you still got a lot of good years ahead of ya.” The idea of wooing was foreign to him. Even before his attitude towards dating had soured he wasn’t a wooer. “I’m sure the right one comes along you won’t even have to woo her.” Feeling a little smug over nailing his supportive role he poured himself another drink and offered Percy one as well.

"Are you bloody mad?" Percy demanded, his voice so low it was nearly a growl. He advanced on Corvus, shoving him unceremoniously onto one of the hospital beds. He inhaled and retracted his hands instantly. Crossing his arms, Percy took a careful step back, horrified that he would lay a hand on a teammate. 

"Why are you drinking at all when you're on the bloody fucking pitch?" Percy finally gritted out, every muscle in his body tensed with anxiety and fury. Then just as suddenly, he deflated, shoulders slumping as realization dawned. "You're an alcoholic," he said slowly, both to tell Corvus and to convince himself of it. 

Groaning, Percy scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling a tightening in his chest that signaled a scream building. He traded it for a deep sigh and ignored the soreness in his jaw from all the grinding he'd done with his teeth. "Quin," he muttered, his voice lacking the earlier anger. Now he sounded tired. "Bloody fuck, Quin," he repeated, more to himself than to the other.

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

Corvus couldn’t understand why everyone suddenly cared that he was drinking. He’d always drank. In his eyes he’d been a functioning drunk for his entire adulthood. It had never been a problem. There was a system to everything in his life. Now it felt like everyone was trying to wreck it. His father, Art, and now the Captain. 

“I don’t drink too much on game days, Captain. Just a little to help me focus is all. It’s just—“ Everything had been messed up since Art moved in. Corvus didn’t add that last part in. Whatever had happened was not Art’s fault but his own for letting the other browbeat him. “I don’t know what happened…”

Percy grunted in response to Corvus’ compliment, digging his heels to the floor in an attempt to keep from shifting. The thought of women-- any woman other than Connie-- showing interest in him again was terrifying. He’d dealt with it before, it was to be expected, but now he couldn’t fathom the idea of having to deflect advances. The wound in his chest still felt raw and open; he wasn’t sure he ever wanted it to heal. 

“I don’t think I have it in me,” Percy admitted, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Besides,” he added, expression smoothing as he raised his glass. “You lot are handful enough. Where will I have the time to woo a lady?” He drained what was left of the Black, only to realize he should probably slow it down. He wasn’t feeling anything yet, but the itch at the back of his throat warned him he was liking the drink too much. 

Just like old times? || Papa & Cor

It had been too long since the pair had talked. Corvus had forgotten that Percy was not the bloke to insult women too. Though considering what Connie had done to him it was surprising that he still felt that way. Percy’s words only further solidified the idea that he was a much better man then Corvus would ever be. “Yes, sir,” came the chastised reply. Not that he planned on stopping he’d just have to remember not to in front of the Captain was all. The murmured words were not commented on. 

Percy had no way of knowing that if the time came for Corvus to have a wife and he hadn’t gotten around to it his mother had a list waiting. Pureblood families with legacies to keep up didn’t like having those threatened by no offspring. A thing which Corvus didn’t like to dwell on. Much like most unpleasant topics. Still at least it wouldn’t be a close cousin. Immediately Corvus felt bad for asking. He should have known that Percy wouldn’t. But at the same time it wasn’t like Percy wasn’t a good looking man. And some women didn’t seem to mind a lad with a kid. If anything he’d figured Lucy would have helped Percy’s chances. “They’ll be lining up before long.” It was meant to be comforting, Corvus was never that great at comforting.

Percy's field of vision narrowed and every atom in his body strained for only one thing-- the goal. It was what made him such a good Keeper. He was ruthless in his single-mindedness, unwilling to back down despite the opponent. And right now, his goal was to find out what the bloody hell had gone so wrong back there.

"No less than usual?" Percy asked, his voice no louder than normal. But there was a deadly stillness to it, a fragility that belied its calm. He inhaled deeply, slowly, a brief look of disgust flashing across his face. He'd trusted Corvus-- they all did. He couldn't believe the extent to which they had fallen.

"Are you telling me that while Felix was up there getting his head cracked open, you were on a bender?"

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

Corvus kept replying those few moments in his head trying to work out what had happened. Certain he’d missed something. He’d told Art he couldn’t play like this and now— He didn’t know why he’d let Art stop him in the first place. But he didn’t blame Art for this. Felix lying in there was on him and him alone he knew it. It was just a matter of time before anyone else started saying as much. 

Percy had swooped in on him so quickly Corvus didn’t even know who it was at first. His protests died on his lips when he saw. Corvus’ heart sank as the let himself be guided into the empty room. The question surprised him. He’d been expecting something more like ‘What the hell were you doing?’ “I…no. Way less then usual anyway.”

Percy immediately frowned at Corvus’ crude, dismissive words. He felt offended on behalf of Maddie and Frankie and Lucy and, bizarrely enough, Connie. He narrowed his eyes and pointed at Corvus, gesturing expansively as he spoke, “Don’t you talk about ladies like that, Quin, you’ll have your throat ripped out of you,” he warned seriously. He eyed Corvus with bemusement. “You’re still young. You have time,” he murmured, more to himself than to the other man.

Despite his earlier conviction, at Corvus’ question, Percy reached for the bottle of Black on the table. He poured himself a generous amount, silent until he took a swig from the glass, attempting to stall as long as possible. 

“No,” he finally admitted, not understanding why that had been so difficult to confess. But it was, and although his divorce had consumed the past two years of his life, it still smarted to think of Connie in any other aspect than as his. Sometimes he still caught himself pouring two glasses of wine or reaching for her at night. He felt incredibly old, worrying about the things that he did, while Connie herself was gallivanting all around London. 

Just like old times? || Papa & Cor

Corvus let out a booming laugh at Percy’s question. There was a time that it would have been a legitimate question but he no longer bothered. Not since Jenna. He hadn’t dated too much prior to her but she’d taught him just how bad an idea dating was. A lesson he was still learning since the greedy bitch was back for more money. 

Finally getting his laughter under control enough so he could talk he replied, “No way, mate. Lasses aren’t worth the trouble. There’s plenty who don’t have a problem opening their legs without having to feed ‘em first.” Corvus had never been what anyone would call romantic but he’d definitely gotten less so in the past year. Something about being blackmailed by an ex just didn’t lend itself to making a lad want to try again, go figure. Easy, drunken hook-ups were more fun anyway. “How about you?” Tit for tat Corvus figured. Plus he was curious what Percy had been doing with all his freetime. Maybe he had a new lass. Percy always seemed more the type to want a nice lass around permanently then a lot of the other lads. Maybe his ex-wife hadn’t sucked that out of him.

a shot a day keeps the tears away [papa&cor]

It looped over and over and over again-- the image of Corvus, fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle-- set to the same deafening crack! of the bludger meeting Felix’s skull. Percy crossed his arms in an effort to conceal the shaking in his hands. He felt equal parts outraged and concerned, torn in all directions-- unsure if he should remain with his team and wait for Felix to wake, or if he should find out how exactly he’d ended up here in the first place.

Percy raised his gaze, immediately spotting Corvus’ profile among the rest of the team’s. He inhaled sharply then strode forward, grabbing the man by the elbow and steering him backwards into an empty room down a different corridor. He kicked the door shut and turned back to Corvus with a snarl.

“You drunk, boy?”

Percy’s shoulders relaxed, his breath leaving him in a rush. He hadn’t realized just how much he relied on Corvus’ answer until he found himself sagging with relief. Still, the guilt pierced him like a knife, twisting slowly with every second that passed. He hated the other man for accepting his rubbish excuse. He knew wasn’t forgiven just yet, and secretly, a part of him wanted it to be never. He didn’t deserve it; he didn’t want it. 

“Okay,” Percy echoed, brow furrowed as he drained his glass. The Black sliced through him like liquid fire, a familiar burn he’d long since become accustomed to. He instantly remembered its attraction, a pull he’d nearly succumbed to when he’d first left the Wasps. Grinding his jaw, Percy clenched his hands into fists, leaving his tumbler empty for the time being. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to stop otherwise. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Percy awkwardly started, realizing halfway through the sentence that he wasn’t sure if he was asking for Corvus’ sake or to sate his own curiosity. If he were a lesser man, he would’ve blabbered an excuse, talking away the question. Instead, he stubbornly held out, letting it weigh in the air. 

Just like old times? || Papa & Cor

That was it? Just an apology? Corvus wanted to demand an explanation. He deserved an explanation. Him more then any of the others he thought selfishly. He’d known Percy longer, they had been mates. But there was something holding him back. Respect for the man in front of him, mostly. The look on Percy’s face made Corvus believe that he truly meant what he was saying. While it wasn’t what he wanted he’d take it and not push for more.  

“Okay,” he finally said with a nod of his head. Anyone else and Corvus would pressed, demanded to know what had happened. But this was the man he looked up to. The man he wanted desperately to be like. He didn’t know that he forgave Percy for leaving, at least not yet. But an apology was better then silence. And it wasn’t like Corvus didn’t have secrets of his own.

And that was just the cherry on top, wasn’t it? How could he explain that the very reason he’d left at all was because of the team’s shoddy state—the same reason he’d come back, ironically enough. Every muscle in Percy tensed at the other’s accusatory tone, though he did little to dispute the claim. Corvus wasn’t exactly wrong—he’d disappeared from the Quidditch world entirely, only delaying his departure long enough to bundle Connie and Lucy up with his gear. The only thing he could remember from the tumultuous day was an overwhelming feeling of loss, leaving everything he’d come to value behind.

“I’m sorry I left,” Percy finally said, setting down his glass. The moment made him realize he had yet to apologize to his team—really apologize—something he decided was unforgivable. He couldn’t give them an explanation, but at least he had an apology to give. “I am. You’ll just have to take my word when I say that I didn’t want to, but I had to. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Corvus, and neither am I asking for one. But I want you to understand that that’s not how I intended to go.” He’d rocked forward, righting his chair as he gazed at the other. Percy would be the first to admit that he wasn’t a good man: he was prone to violent outbursts and his overprotective streak often got him into trouble. But he made a valiant effort to try—he wanted to be good, because while he was proud of his reputation, it wasn’t what kept him up at nights.

Just like old times? || Papa & Cor

Corvus’ spine stiffened at the sound of his first name. That did not bode well and he couldn’t help feeling a sickening dread. This wasn’t the way he’d pictured his reunion with Percy to be like. It was a surprise that Art hadn’t told the Captain a long list of his supposed sins. He’d thought the younger lad would have done that first thing. 

Reluctantly he let go of the bottle of Black. He was a fan of not having the bottle in his possession. Paranoia over food and drink had just been made worse with that whole Felix mess. Corvus nodded at Percy’s words. “I know Captain. Wasps watch out for their own. Doesn’t mean I still don’t think he’s a sodding twat.” There were plenty of times he couldn’t stand Art, more times he couldn’t stand him then otherwise. But if needed he’d have his back. Though maybe not as cheerfully as if it were Billy or Fe.  A dismissive scoff greeted that quite the pair comment. Followed by an even louder one at the idea of him and Art being anything alike. Corvus wasn’t sure if it was Percy’s words or his tone that got him riled up even more. His temper, which had barely been a blip during his early Wasps years was becoming shorter and shorter these days. Enough that it even scared Corvus some. His eyes grew hard but stayed on his glass of Black. “You left those doe-eyed lads without so much as a glance back. Left us to fend for ourselves. No word, nothing. Now you want us to apologise for how we are? Two years of scrambling around trying to find our footing, not knowing why you’d left. Excuse me if I don’t apologise, Captain.” Never in all the years he’d known Percy had he ever talked to him that coldly. He’d always been respectful of his Captain. But now two years worth of wondering had shifted into bitterness. “So much for having each other’s backs.” Finally he locked back up at Percy and gave a mock salute of his own. “Cheers.”

This isn't over. We'll talk about this after the game.

Perfect!

…I’m sorry.

What in Merlin's name would possess you to even consider the bloody fucking notion of drinking before a game? Are you out of your bloody mind? If we weren't expected on the pitch, I'd wollop you to Scotland and back, boy.

Perfect!

I— Bloody hell. I just wanted a sip. Bloody Fawley poured my coffee down the drain this morning. Been cock-blocking me all week. Thought a shot wouldn’t….hurt.

You want to explain what that nothing is?

Perfect!

Nothing, Cap.

Alright, let's make them regret the day they ever took up Quidditch.