head empty no thoughts

Betty scowled. “I take it you have no idea then, and Frank still carries your balls around in his mother’s purse.”

“Have you seen Augusta’s purse collection? You’d want your balls in there too.”

Frank looked at John, as if his best friend had suddenly lost his sanity. Surely they both knew the answer to that question. “The whole job’s a risk to land in hospital again, John. ‘Course I do.”

“But not a risk you seek out,” John said, shaking his head. “You needn’t be reckless.” It felt odd, giving what sounded like pragmatic advice to Frank, when it was usually the other way around.

“Yeah, go on then.” It would be better than the look of guilt John still wore.

Far be it from John to avoid a challenge. He sighed, dropping the wry tone for a moment. “Mate, come on, as if you want to be out on patrol and risk landing in hospital again.”

“That’s the biggest type of comment, Dawlish.”

John scoffed. “Not true! Would you rather I made a real comment, then?”

“You just did.”

“No I didn’t. I said no comment.”

“Yes,” Frank replied, batting John’s foot in retaliation. “Not yet. Soon, though, surely. Seeing as I’m fine.” Fine was an overstatement, given he technically still had a cane.

“Fine,” John repeated, sceptical. “I won’t comment on that.”

She raised an eyebrow as if to see, really? I wouldn’t? “John, every single one of your relationships sounds like reason enough for anyone to be worried.” Except Emma would never admit to such a thing. There was nothing to be concerned about. Not when she had everything under control. At all times. “If you won’t take my sage advice, turn up the film. You’re Eliza, in this situation. Just so you know.”

“I am not,” John said, indignant, but he listened to her anyway.

“I’m not,” he replied dramatically, in a way that could only be reserved for John Dawlish. “I think this is what hell would be like.”

“Oh, is it?” John said, equally dramatic, aiming a little kick at the cane. “Have they said when you’ll be back on regular rotation, anyway? I’m sick of my other patrol partners.”

And Frank did just that. He had to entertain himself somehow.

John scowled. “I’m too nice to you. And you are not cut out for desk duty.”

When: 18th December 1980 Where: DMLE Who: @dohnjawlish​

Whoever had decided to assign Frank and John opposite desks had done something really wrong, or really right, depending on who you were asking. If you were asking John, in that moment, it was most like wrong, given the way Frank was regularly poking him across the way with his walking stick.

It had been a month of desk duty and Frank was going insane. It was a stubborn pride, an insistence that he didn’t need the stick to walk, that left its only use to get the attention of his best friend. “Oi,” he said, poking him again.

“Poke me one more time,” John said feebly. It wasn’t a threat he’d act on, given that the cane only served to remind him of their horrible Inferius encounter — and the all the ways he might have acted quicker.

“You’re right. I tell them I won’t have sex with them until they sign the contract. Makes it easy to include loopholes, you know?”

“But again. It’s all hypothetical. You wouldn’t actually. Besides, a contract sounds like there’s something to be worried about.”

“What? You mean shoving a contract into someone’s face while having sex with them isn’t your idea of romance?”

John opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, squinting at her. “Are— No, that’s not something you’ve actually considered doing.” One could never be sure with Emma.

Emma, who was more than happy to keep up appearances, and maintain the frigid bitch persona that most liked to tap her as, was doing her best to not simply laugh at John’s misfortune. It seemed he, more than anyone else in the world, had a penchant for wrapping him up in situations that he couldn’t untangle himself out of. And it was always his heart. Every time. In some ways, she was jealous of his ability to be repeatably open to heartbreak. In most ways, she wished he’d learn already.

“Look. Maybe we should draw you up a relationship contract or something. The next time you’re interested in someone, get everything out in the open first. What your expectations are. What you want to define the relationship as.” This shouldn’t have turned into a dating seminar, but it had. “At least then, when things do inevitably go sideways, as most relationships are going to do, you’ll know it wasn’t because of shite communication on what you were expecting it all to be.”

“A contract’s not very romantic,” John pointed out with a frown. Of course Emma would find a way to turn this into something involving legalese. “And, what, I’m supposed to present it to her? Yeah, that’ll get a girl swooning.”

Emma had been excited to tell John to wipe his smug smile off of his face, and to erase whatever image he had sprouted in his small brain. Only, it seemed as if he was a step ahead of her.

“Do we have time to unpack how useless the word complicated is in these scenarios? You’re either dating, fucking, wishing you were fucking, or sat on a couch watching My Fair Lady.”

John blew out a breath. It was a testament to his state of mind, the fact that he didn’t immediately poke at Emma for so succinctly summing the two of them up. “Well,” he said, irritably, “complicated is when one of you treats your — situation as exclusive, and the other doesn’t, and then it all comes out at once, and you have to consider what you really think.” 

Which might not have been a fair summary of the facts. Marlene had been nice about it, and it had been an honest misunderstanding. But John knew he didn’t want to accidentally trip into something undefined. And what if he wasn’t able to get over the awkwardness with Marlene? He had yet to reach out to her at all since.

Emma leaned back, arms crossed in suspicion. “Musical?” Very few were aware of her taste for them, which meant there was only one culprit she could pin the blame on. “Bas has been opening his big abnormally large mouth, hasn’t he? What a woman watches in her spare time is her business and her business only.”

Except, now that he mentioned it. “My Fair Lady. We can both stare at Audrey Hepburn for three hours. Will your girlfriend this month mind sparing you for that long?”

John beamed, satisfied. He had very little interest in lording anything over Emma — and it wasn’t like his taste was unimpeachable — but it was funny to think of her singing along to, say, Rocky Horror.

Very funny. Hysterical, even.

“My Fair Lady it is,” he started to say, then couldn’t prevent his smile from slipping. “I don’t have a girlfriend of the month. Well, I think. It’s complicated.” John made a face. That was a phrase he bloody hated.

“They’re probably too focused on the all out war that we’re all trying to avoid. And failing at. I mean, how long until more than just the Statute is broken? The collapse of both wizarding and muggle governments would mark a completely new era. Something no one would be able to control.” Least of all Minchum. Or Margaret Thatcher for that matter. Though she was an entirely different story. Emma might have admired the woman if all of her policies weren’t so completely stupid. 

Emma let out a loud sigh. “Put a film on. The more we talk about this the worse I feel. I already feel like everything’s out of my control.” And nothing put her in a worse mood than feeling helpless.

All-out war. But the words slid through his mind with no effect. It couldn’t be, he decided, and so he would not consider it until it came to that.

If it came to that.

Only too happy to comply with the request, John wormed off the sofa and made for the telly. “What are you feeling like? A musical?” he said, in a tone of careful nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Frank grunted, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He had resolve, that much was sure. “Get –” but Frank didn’t need to finish his sentence. The commotion had attracted the rest of the nearby aurors, and they were already swarming around. Which was probably for the best, given his mind finally caught up with his body, his vision turning black as he slumped back to the ground. He’d have to thank John for saving his life when he woke.