play your hand honestly

“That’s the one,” he confirms with a nod, glad he’s paid attention. One would think he’d be better with his terminology by now being a professor for a few years, but combined with how eager he is normally and with Morgan there he’s a complete goner. “Yeah, me either.” He’s not blushing. “Just, wouldn’t wanna bore you with thesis talk.” Fernando raises an eyebrow and orders the same as Morgan, waiting as she goes to respond. “I’m not about to get something else when you gave the pancakes such a ringing endorsement.”

“You’re cute,” he smiles, giving Fernando’s hand another squeeze. He’s actually trying to think about how he could eat pancakes one handed. “And there’s no way for you to bore me with thesis talk, but if you do, I can just zone out and stare at you, so it’s still a win for me.” Is it too forward? They’re on an honest to god date, so Morgan doesn’t really give a shit. “But now you’ve got me nervous that you won’t actually like them, and then you’ll never wanna go out with me again,” he smiles, to show he’s kidding. 

When it comes to his thesis, Fernando is a complete loser. That’s about it. He can’t shut the fuck up. “Really well. I’m gonna have to bring in some equipment and some people who know how to use it to study it on an atomic level, I realized I bit off more than I could chew with something as generalized as any and all ‘magic’, but hey, someone had to question the sun first so I’m starting with potions,” he prattles, and only remembers himself when he goes to gesture and anchored, again, by Morgan’s hand. In the best way. “I, uh, basically am starting to see a pattern in reactions and looking for common components in different ingredients.” He looks down, fiddling with their fingers. “I figure if you can’t explain what you’re doing you don’t really get what’s going on. So if I’m making no sense I’d love to explain it. Or, not, because I will go on for literal hours with a powerpoint presentation and everything.”

“Is a powerpoint one of those, um, slidey projection things you do in staff meetings?” He’s confused, and feels like he’s probably not smart enough for Fernando, but fuck it, he’s adorable when he’s excited about his work. “And I wouldn’t mind spending hours with you,” Morgan smiles, and then tries to look less like a lovestruck idiot when their waitress comes over. She gives him another sly side eye which he ignores, stumbling over his words to order his own pancakes. Not wanting to assume, he looks up at Fernando, “And you?”

“Exactly!” If he’s not letting his family jibe at him about his job, he’s not about to let Morgan — especially considering they basically share a profession. And he’ll do it enthusiastically. “You really are, you know. Helping.” He knows in testimonials and things he hears in the halls. “Anyways, for all it’s worth, Hogwarts has proved a great place to continue on with some researching. Theoretical work is a lot harder in the ministry, takes longer. Here it’s like… whatever.” Emphasized with a wave with his hand. “If that makes sense. Not that I’m not taking it seriously, just a longer leash — ”

Morgan can feel his cheeks heat up slightly at the compliment, honestly hoping that he does help his students at least a bit. He hates being the naggy threatening professor. “Right!” He smiles at the topic, always loving when Fernando talks about his thesis in staff meetings since he gets so passionate about it. “How is that going, by the way? It’s still, sort of, I guess mind blowing to me. And obviously, I know very little about,” he gestures to the ground, “earth based science.” Since, you know, astronomy.

The bashful comes back in full swing at that, nodding and taking a sip at his water. “Okay. ‘Til then,” he agrees. The next statement he has to scrap up the ‘decency’ to look ‘offended’, nearly withdrawing his hand but deciding it wasn’t worth the joke. He returns any loss of space with a squeeze. “Excuse me, I love being a professor.” Fernando continues on a touch more seriously, little smile on his lips. “Maybe it’s the Ravenclaw in me but there’s always something to learn.” 

“I know,” he smiles, returning the squeeze he’s given. Which sounds wrong, but whatever. “I like teaching. Helping out the students is good. I want to be more of an involved professor than the ones I had in my day.” He makes a face. “God, I’m really aging myself here.” And he’s saying he likes supporting his students as he skips out on the quidditch game, but, oops.

At some point he must’ve lost track of something, but can’t help but be soothed by the stroke that goes along his knuckles. He doesn’t panic as much as he might’ve. “Am I ready?” Because he doesn’t know. Of course, he wants to know about more about Morgan, and it’s endlessly fascinating whatever he does find — so he shrugs. “I can hear it later. I didn’t know you took gap years.”

He shrugs with one shoulder, still smiling. “I’ll tell you at some point in the future. It’s not something that if I don’t say it now, I’ll never say it at all, so we’re good.” Official first dates are probably not the time to discuss who Morgan spent his time with over his gap years. “How do you think I’m this old and not completely bored of being a professor yet?” He snorts. “Had a late start.”

He doesn’t laugh but it’s a near thing, smile all too fond for the amount of time this has been a thing. He’s glad he doesn’t later, listening in and few more questions are raised than answers. Picking apart the information piece by piece, he finally settles on what he deems is the first. “Alternative?” The expression ensures Morgan doesn’t reveal anything he doesn’t want to and he’ll continue to sport it ‘til they’re done. Just because he’s able to readily give away pieces of himself doesn’t mean everyone is.

A small laugh comes after Fernando’s question. “Are you sure you’re ready to have that conversation?” He snorts, running his thumb over the other’s knuckles. “I mean, I’m not opposed to telling you, if you really want to know.” He’s been in the scene for too long to care if people think he’s weird for it, and he trusts Fernando.

“You get the fork, I’ll get the knife, and then we’ll switch up on syrup,” he jokes, returning the squeeze and resolves to let go when the food is actually there. That being said, his free hand flips through the page of the menu. “So, I kinda wanna know more about how well your first?” He pauses in the middle of his words to ask, “time you went into the muggle world — or diner, I guess — went.”

“Well,” he hums, “I mean, the first time I was in the muggle world was like, right after I graduated, and that was a mess. I apparated in front of an old lady and almost gave her a heart attack,” snorting at the memory, he hums. “I mean, beyond that I sort of, stayed in one place and studied with some, uh, alternative muggles. Those were in the years before I sort of, got back on my feet and put myself through university to become a professor. Mostly I just observed what was and wasn’t normal for the muggle world, and sort of just, went with that.”

He looks at him curiously, but is frankly too caught up with placing his hand in Morgan’s to realize what he’s said. “So, is it pancakes tonight?” Again he looks over to his date and grins, squeezing the hand in his. “I almost feel bad, like we should bring you somewhere else. Too.” Can he say enough that Morgan’s really beautiful? Probably not.

Leaning across the table slightly, he lifts Fernando’s hand to press a kiss across his knuckles, smiling. “I was thinking you could order whatever you want, but the pancakes are my favorite. You may have some trouble doing it one-handed.” Even though he says it, he doesn’t let go, only squeezing Fernando’s hand. He quickly looks around before tapping the table, the menu unfolding in front of the other.

The wrapper doesn’t make it anywhere near him but he lets out a delighted laugh anyways, flicking his own straw wrapper towards the other. It pathetically skids across the table, just stopping short of Morgan, which is the principle of the thing. “You’re the perfect one. Is this what I can come to expect when it comes to these?” Because going on more dates isn’t a question on Fernando’s end. “Because I’ll cream you.” And Fernando, bless him, won’t realize the innuendo.

Morgan can’t help the ugly snort he lets out at the innuendo, dissolving into laughter as he looks to Fernando with an eyebrow raised. Not about to bring it up, he just lets the words hang in the air for a moment. Choosing his next words carefully, he reaches over the table and holds his hand out, palm up for the other’s hand. “I’m counting on it.”

Whatever he was expecting Morgan to do it wasn’t that, mouth dropping over. “Oh, you didn’t,” he says, fierce look sent towards the other but there’s plenty of laughter in his tone, more to spare. Water trick be damned, he scrunches up his straw and twists the end so he can get Morgan on the forehead. It’s a little bit of a feat, but he manages. Call it experience. He didn’t check if this was the place to leave out straws but if it means war then fine.

Fernando’s somewhat inauthentic ferocity about blowing a straw at him is actually entirely too cute. Resisting the urge to lean up over the table to kiss him is a feat, but he manages. Barely. It’s impossible to keep the affection out of his eyes, looking at the other. “You’re perfect,” he hums, haphazardly crumpling up the straw wrapper and tossing it back at Fernando with bad aim. It ends up somewhere on the booth besides him, and while Morgan could absolutely make an excuse to crawl under the table to get it, they aren’t there just yet.

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