Helping Out (Keith/Rowan)

[Rowan Trace]

Rowan's odd new relationship with Keith was the last thing on his mind as he sat on the couch, a pile of throw pillows tucked around and behind him. He was grading final essays, his students' last chance for his class, and for many of them, an indicator of how they would do on the written portions of their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s as well.

He stretched out his feet, propping one on the low coffee table. His glasses sat folded between the stack of completed essays and an ancient set of ivory and ebony wizard chess. He could very well have had a quill do the work for him, but he preferred to do it himself. He knew the students, and though he swore he always graded strictly, this was the one time when he gave leeway, as well as a page of advice for each of his N.E.W.T. students.

[Keith Evans]

Keith hadn't seen Rowan since they'd talked, not that he could consider it entirely a bad thing. It was good to have time apart to think, especially with how things had gone with Matthew. But it was stretching into the week and his mind had taken enough what ifs for him to know that he really should go talk to Rowan. He took a breath and knocked on the door, pushing his worries to the back of his mind.

[Rowan Trace]

Rowan blinked and looked up at the door, his eyes narrowing into a mild glare at being disturbed. He had told his students repeatedly—especially after the hell that was midterms—never to bother him at home. It didn't for a moment occur to him that it might be a social call.

After a moment, he decided to ignore the sound. Whoever it was would give up and go away, hopefully soon, and he'd be left in peace again. He reached aside for the bottle of water he'd left resting on the carpet beside the couch, and took a slow drink.

[Keith Evans]

Keith hadn't expected that, but since Rowan wasn't in his office or classroom, this was the most likely place to find him. He knocked again. "If you intend to avoid me, at least have the common courtesy to tell me, first," he called through the door. Any of those what ifs that involved Rowan doing exactly that were firmly pushed back into their place in the depths of his mind.

[Rowan Trace]

Rowan's gaze returned to the door at the muffled voice calling to him. Was that Keith? Until this point, it had always been Rowan who had sought Keith out, and though the location of his quarters was no secret, he simply didn't have people in. This was his world away from the world, his haven.

He set his bottled water back on the carpet beside the couch and stood, bare feet padding through the thick pile of midnight blue carpet, and across the hardwood floor. He didn't like this at all.

He stepped into shoes beside the door and grabbed his professor's robes from the rack, sliding into them. Then he pulled the door open, just wide enough to show him, while hiding his living room. "I don't normally have people here," he said, all the explanation he would give just now. He glanced past Keith into the corridor to be sure there weren't any loitering students.

[Keith Evans]

Keith raised an eyebrow. "You don't normally wake up hungover in someone else's bed either," he pointed out. "I'd say we're far from normally." What happened between them was entirely abnormal, at least for Rowan, anyway. His eyes darted over Rowan and he wondered if Rowan actually sat around at home n his robes.

[Rowan Trace]

Rowan's eyes widened, and he would have shushed Keith if it hadn't already been too late. "Come in," he hissed, stepping aside. If there was anything that didn't need overheard, it was the results of his last outing. He sent Keith part of the glare he'd felt before.

"Take off your shoes here," he said, gesturing as he pushed his own off again. He hadn't needed socks just for the cover, and when the door was shut, he hung his robes again, leaving himself in faded skinny jeans and a soft, comfortable undershirt. "If that gets into the Prophet, I'm going to kill you."

[Keith Evans]

"It won't," Keith assured Rowan, glancing around to take in the room. "The hall was empty, and the only painting is a pot of flowers, which I doubt will be saying anything anytime soon." His eyes hovered on various parts of the room, examining the plush carpet and comfortable looking seating as he absently slid off his shoes. "This is nice," he said, though he couldn't help but think it was kind of pointless to have a chess set out when Rowan apparently never had people over. Then his eyes settled on Rowan.

[Rowan Trace]

Rowan was looking over his own furnishings rather than looking at Keith. "Thanks," he said. He liked the clean lines of it all, the rich variety in textures, and yes, the simple physical and emotional pleasure of being in a room so suited to calm. Even the colors were mellow, though he tended to change them at whim.

"So what are you doing up here?" he asked, turning his gaze back to Keith. He had a sudden memory of discussing certain things, and though at no point had he forgotten, it was still surprising to remember it all. "Sorry, I really don't know how to entertain anyone."

[Keith Evans]

"Well, generally you offer a seat and something to drink, then you just relax," Keith said, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "I just wanted to come up and see you, see if you were okay. You were pretty bad off Sunday." He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. Maybe he should just let Rowan initiate contact, but he had the feeling contact would just be avoided if it was left up entirely to Rowan.

[Rowan Trace]

"I'm still feeling it," Rowan admitted. "F~ing miiserable," he added under his breath. He was still aching from the hours of motion without rest, though he'd gotten a potion to deal with the dehydration and migraines. He was depressed, though. He knew it was the drug, and that he had not only overdone everything, but skipped his charm as well, and he'd decided quite firmly never to repeat the experience.

He paused a moment in thought, then gestured toward the couch and matching chairs nearby. "Want something to drink?" he asked.

[Keith Evans]

Keith shook his head, "I'm fine, thank you." He took a seat on the couch, on the end opposite where he saw Rowan's things. Maybe it was too easy to get comfortable on that couch. "Anything I can do?" He had to offer, even if it might have been too soon, or with the chance that Rowan would just refuse help.

[Rowan Trace]

Rowan shook his head, then pulled out his wand to clean up as he spoke. "I've got potions doing what they can, so I'm just waiting it out now. Never doing that again." It wasn't worth a week of misery for a night to forget, especially when he didn't even remember the majority of that night. When his papers were in one neat stack, Rowan returned to his comfortable nest near the throw pillows and looked aside at Keith. "How's end of term going for you?" he asked.

[Keith Evans]

Keith shrugged. "It's okay, I've got their final essays done, been hearing the practical projects the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students did during free time. Still looking forward to it being over, though," he said. An essay could only show so much that a student had learned, especially in his class, and a physical project was a necessity. "The students are getting antsy, though, I've noticed." He had caught more than one staring out the foggy greenhouse walls instead of focusing on their work.

[Rowan Trace]

Rowan nodded. "Mine are the same, especially the seventh years. Most of them are acting like they're done and just waiting for the Hogwarts Express. There was some impressive wandwork on the final projects, though. I may have a Cursebreaker graduating this year." He was especially proud of that student, and had asked to keep in touch.