Mundungus "Nate" Fletcher

Reggie laughed, reaching out to put a hand on Nate’s hip as he easily followed along with him. He wasn’t necessarily a party guy, but Reggie was plenty capable of dancing, even as he teased Nate about whether he could. “Think you could be a good influence on my skills? I dunno. Has anyone ever accused you of being a good influence on anyone ever before?” 

They’d danced before, Reggie thought, but as he considered it, maybe they hadn’t. He couldn’t definitely point to any clubs they’d danced at or parties they’d gone to together. And they weren’t really dance-in-the-living-room kind of people. More… the type to make innuendos in the living room until deciding to go to the bedroom. And Reggie liked that. He liked this casual thing they had. But it was nice to dance with him too.

💐

Nate grinned as he felt Reggie’s hand on his hip, making sure to press just a little closer to him. Who could blame him, truly, for wanting to be close to Reggie as they danced, and maybe even start teasing him a little? The older man spoke then, and Nate couldn’t help the snort and the rather loud laugh that he let out at the idea. Teasingly playing with the hem of Reggie’s shirt, he shook his head, starting to slide a hand underneath.

“If anyone ever said I was a good influence when it came to anything, I’d be pretty damn concerned,” He laughed out, “No one has ever even thought that, I’m pretty sure.” He playfully wrinkled his nose as he kept them moving, but it wasn’t like there was anything wrong with that. Why would he want to be a good influence, when it was so much more fun to be a bad one?

Reggie nodded, trying to keep his face impassive and vaguely judgy rather than look amused by Nate’s antics. The other would know. He always knew. But sometimes it was fun to make him come to those conclusions on his own instead of humoring him with a laugh. Perhaps the look was encouragement. Perhaps it was a different kind of humoring him.

“I dunno,” Reggie said as he let Nate drag him toward where people were dancing in the living room. “I’m awfully old and out of the loop. I don’t think I know what new-fangled moves the kids are using these days.” Reggie could dance just fine, and Nate knew it. Still, he was curious what the other would do, even as he slowed to a stop at the edge of the dance floor and started bobbing a bit, getting a feel for the song. He’d heard it once or twice, he thought, but Reggie didn’t actually know it well.

💐

Nate watched him, but just smirked lightly. Reggie adored him, and would encourage his antics, and he knew it well, even if the older man’s face didn’t show it. Nate wasn’t going to worry if he might not like it, because well, Reggie would tell him if he was getting annoyed. Nate wasn’t going to turn into someone like Pettigrew who worried about all of that stuff, if they were liked or not; Nate had more confidence than that, and had learned enough that people would tell you right out about it anyway.

“You don’t know?” Nate raised an eyebrow as he led him to the dance floor, “Surely you’ve at least seen some of these new moves that we’re using lately, and if not, you can watch me close enough to follow along, yeah?” He smirked lightly, before playfully reaching out to put his hands on Reggie’s hips, dancing a little close with him. “Maybe I’ll have to guide you through it, yeah?” He teased him, “Make sure you don’t fall down or anything.”

“Is telling you to wait a couple day before filling your smoke-abused lungs with more smoke something you will listen to, or am I wasting my breath?” Maybe if she had Xeno enforce the mandate for her, or Reginald (would he listen to Reginald or ignore anything honest regarding Reginald? He seemed very practiced in that), or there was always Pandora who was rapidly rising in the ranks of “Sensible One” in the queer little grouping they had.

Robyn kept her grip carefully firm as she started to slather his arm up with a thick layer of the bright orange salve, smearing it up from his wrist to his bicep, and then down over his fingers, aiming for an even coating before she wiped her fingers more or less clean on his discarded shirt. Then she grabbed one of the rolls of bandages. Using her thumb to pin the start in place against his pulse, she first wrapped up to above his elbow and then back down to cover his palm, leaving his fingers sticking out stiffly.

One arm done, she shuffled around to the other side, lightly prodding him to get him to switch arms. “Drink some water if you don’t think it will come right back up,” she prompted as she smeared more flouresent orange cream over his skin.

“You telling me that? Wasting your breathe entirely,” Fletch stated, glancing up at her with an innocent, but at least truthful, grin. He shrugged a shoulder faintly, then added, “I mean, I suppose if you really need me to, you could find someone I’m actually scared of to tell me that, but those people are few and far between, so I’d just wish you good luck.” Would he listen to Xeno, or Reggie, or Pandora, or even Moody? Yes, of course he would. That didn’t mean he was scared of them, of course, but that he’d listen.

He put his face fully back in the bucket, shuddering a little as she began to slather his arm up with the salve. His stomach churned and he let out a tiny whine, but tried his best to stay still as much as he could, between what was coming up and what she was doing. After all, he knew it would make her job ten times harder if he was moving or jerking, and although it stung, he didn’t want her yelling at him for that.

Xenophilius snorted at Nate’s expected quip, shaking his head as he moves around the other wix and a bit closer to the kitchen area. His playful eyebrow waggle earnt him a shake of the head and an indulgent coo from the ghost, but nothing more. Not yet, anyway.

A hum escapes when Nate mentions Reggie, trailing off at the end. He didn’t need to explain himself. Xenophilius knew; it would have been the same for him if Dorie had been hurt though, truthfully, he didn’t ever mention nor compare the two pairs. Xeno always thought it would scare them off if he did, though he had thought about it for some time.

Xeno nods in understanding, amused still despite himself, and gestures for him to go ahead. “Tea later then. Whichever room you’d prefer, go ahead. I shall grab the bandages and such.”

While he wholeheartedly knew Nate was being entirely sexual, Xenophilius was still going to bring it with him, for before or after whatever Nate’s visit entailed. He would rather be prepared than not.

Nate watched as the other moved around him and towards the kitchen area, but was a little too distracted by the indulgent coo he got from the ghost and gave her another playful, sad pout. Was there really any harm in hamming it up some? He did love the attention, after all.

The hum he got in response after he trailed off made him just smile softly, hoping that Xeno understood. Of course, he was assuming Xeno would understand it in an all of them way, and not in a way that he was favoring Reggie over him, or anyone else. Nate didn’t play favorites. He didn’t, right?

Gwen shrugged. “I didn’t say I’d be trying to get you in trouble. If he likes you, then I suppose it won’t matter if I’m choosing me over you. Again, nothing personal. Simply a fact of life.” She mentally considered the list of people she’d put above herself in the kind of situation he’d proposed. It was small. Very small. Peter. Lily. Was there anyone else? Perhaps a couple people in the right situation, but they might have been it as a default. Gwen wasn’t sure if it was a sign she needed more friends or that they’d earned more than she deserved. Regardless, Fletcher certainly wasn’t at the top. 

“Did you need anything else?” she asked. “I’m happy to make a list that you can check on later.” 

“Not taken that way, I mean, shit, if you didn’t chose yourself over someone else, I might be a little worried about ya,” Fletch stated with a shrug, “That’s what everyone is supposed to do, right? Though, I am glad to hear you wouldn’t be trying to get me into trouble.” He hummed a little, stretching as he leaned back and held onto the counter slightly.

“I’m trying to be a good boy anyway,” He teased lightly then, “So I think I can get around the disappointed looks, at least.” He playfully winked at her, before letting out a loud sigh and shaking his head. “Nah, I’m good,” He added, “Nothing else that I can think of, unless you wanna escort me home with all this?” He smirked again, chuckling to himself.

Was that a sex joke thing? Robyn wasn’t sure if that was a sex joke thing, or what it could possibly refer to—and wasn’t sure she wanted to know. (If she did decide she wanted to know, she’d ask Xeno who would be two hundred times less likely to tease her about it than Fletcher.) Sex joke or something else, she was pretty sure that it had little bearing on Fletcher understanding what she meant by ‘draining’.

Him getting his hands on regulated potions should have been more alarming, but given that the pills he were so eagerly popping were regulated in their own world, that would be a tinge hypocritical of Robyn. She’d much rather feel a bit smug about the matter and having something in common with the man than feel like a hypocrite.

Considering that Fletcher was likely capable of putting a banshee to shame if he wanted to put some effort into it, Robyn didn’t linger longer than it took to lightly press her fingers into his leg reassuringly as she stood up again. Then she hurried to gather the other things she’d need to treat the burns—and the smoke inhalation he hadn’t complained of but was probably tickling his lungs in a less pleasant way that his usually smokeables did.

A quick check with Emmeline (Evan was occupied hovering and being very concerned over Theodosia, and Robyn didn’t want to add to that concern with simple questions), a stop in the supply closet, and then Robyn was back, a large tub of burn salve in her arms, a bucket balanced on top, with a small charcoal potion tucked inside. Settling down at Fletcher’s side, she snagged the potion and then pushed the bucket into his arms. “Drink this, and aim for the bucket,” she told him. “We need to get any gunk you inhaled out of your lungs.” Gunk. Very techinical term. (Whose idea was it to put her on the medical team again? Oh right, Jones.)

“And I’ll need one of your arms. This will help with the burns.” Twisting the top off the tub revealed the bright orange salve within; extra strong burn cream.

Fletch would have easily put a banshee to shame, and honestly he was almost slightly disappointed he didn’t get to attempt it before Robyn returned. Though, the last thing he wanted was for the rest of the Order to be angry with him, and given the state of things, perhaps he’d leave his attempts at putting a banshee to shame for another day, and for another situation. Still, he was grateful that she returned rather quickly.

Tilting his head at seeing all the things that she returned with, he almost snickered, but then was grabbing onto the bucket as it was shoved into his arms. “Oh fun, good, yeah, gotta get all this bad gunk out to make way for the good gunk later, huh?” He tried to joke lightly, though it wasn’t like he was wrong about it. He’d need something later, and he already knew what he was going to grab to smoke. Hopefully it’d help.

Reggie rolled his eyes but smirked back. “I was wondering how long it would be before those jokes started up. But yes, I suppose I could, and I suppose I can also mix you a drink or two and show you how it’s done.” He winked and took another sip. Four years would have been an eternity in school, but as old as they both were now, Reggie didn’t particularly mind. He hadn’t felt drawn to Nate because of anything like that. Perhaps if he had, the adult jokes might have touched a nerve. Instead they just made him want to threaten to go take a nap.

Not before they had a little fun though. “Always,” he answered back automatically. “You always come prepared, doncha? I’m sure that can count as your bring if anyone really wants to give you grief.” He leaned down and flicked the pocket Nate had just tucked the bags back into. “Lets focus for now, though. Where shall we start, party boy?”

💐

Nate just grinned at seeing the smirk on Reggie’s face, glad the joke had landed well and it hadn’t made the older man mad at him. “What, you didn’t think I’d not make the jokes, did you?” He asked innocently, before playfully wiggling his eyebrows at Reggie. “Oh, I’m sure you can show me how it’s done, whenever you want,” He added with another smirk at seeing that wink. Truly, it was all just jokes to him about Reggie being older; though he did find it slightly hot.

A smirk crossed his face at the quick reply he got, and he leaned in to playfully act like he was going to nip at Reggie’s shoulder, but didn’t get quite close enough to do so. “Of course I do, especially for a party,” he laughed out then, “Anyone gives me grief and I’ll make sure they don’t get any fun tonight, yeah?” He chuckled at the flick, then grabbed Reggie’s hand. “Dance with me, old man?” He teased lightly.

Gwen narrowed her eyes at his little display. If that delightedly little look on his face was any indication, he was hoping for a reaction, so she tried not to give him anything further. “No,” she simply agreed. Her tone wasn’t mean, but Gwen hoped he’d realize she wasn’t interested in playing whatever little game this was.

“I suppose that’s good,” she eventually said. As far as Gwen understood it, Fletcher did a fair amount that wasn’t strictly speaking legal, but if he wanted to pretend at innocence, she supposed that was his prerogative. Still, when he asked about turning him in, Gwen leaned on the counter herself, moving closer to him. “If it’s a matter of telling the truth and saving my ass or lying and covering yours? I’m going to pick me every time.” She nodded, her eyes wide to throw that same fake innocence back at him. “I would turn you into Moody if he asked in a heartbeat, be that as Ministry or Order. Let him play disappointed bad cop with you or whatever he does.”

💐

She narrowed her eyes, and Fletch couldn’t help the way his smirk widened even more. Perhaps it was a little rude to be so annoying to her, but wasn’t there truth in the fact that he only really annoyed people he liked to be around? Therefore she should take it as a compliment, shouldn’t she? Either way, her tone was a bit more final than before, and Fletch just let out a slightly loud, sad sigh at hearing it. Fine. He’d behave for now.

He raised his eyebrows as she leaned in then, listening to her words, and a grin slowly started appearing on her face again. If she truly thought that going to Moody about him would do anything, then he welcomed the challenge. “Thing is though, even though that’d maybe help you get away from whatever it is, Moody happens to like me,” He stated simply, shrugging and leaning back from the counter, “Gotten me outta more scrapes than I can count, and would do it again. I can handle the disappointed looks he gives me.”

“Yes you are, and it is very appreciated.” There was the edge of conciliatory patience to her words, like soothing an irrational child. No, not ‘like’—that was what it was. How often had she seen her mother pull out that tone to deal with an upset patient of any age? There was something about pain that made people regress and act like toddlers.

“I do. Do you?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Regardless of anything else, you’re going to have to take it easy for the next few days. Fiendfyre is… draining to deal with.” Her eyes dragged across his chest with a chilling clinical scrutiny; no ogling here. She’d leave that to Xeno, when they got their hands on the man.

Following his glance for a second, she shook her head. “No pain potions in there. And I’m not letting you take whatever unregulated slop you packed for yourself.” Given the effects of Fiendfyre, avoiding adding more magic into his system right now was probably the best idea. Instead, she reached for her bag and tugged it closer, pulling out a couple bottles she’d borrowed from her mother. “Muggle’s have remarkable painkillers, though,” she said, replacing one bottle and opening the other to shake two little pills onto her palm. Pulling a little glass out from her kit, she quickly filled it with water and then handed both the glass and pills to Fletcher.

“That should help. You take that, and I’m going to get some burn balm and some bandages.” She started to stand, only to crouch back down and hold his gaze seriously as she said, “I will be right back to continue helping you feel better.” In case he doubted that at all.

Fletch narrowed his eyes a little as she sent the question back at him, asking if he knew how fiendfyre worked. Well, he knew at least enough of it to have not gotten himself killed, hadn't he? He wanted to say just that, but just let out a huff in response to her, in clear irritation. "Oh, I know what drained feels like, don't worry, I can take it," The next words to come out of his mouth were more of a tease this time, a smirk starting to grow on his face. Was it childish? Absolutely. Was Fletch going to not act like that? Of course not.

He wiggled his eyebrows a little as she looked him over, though knew she was doing so in just a clinical sense. It was odd having someone look at him, and that being the reaction he got, if he were honest. But it was her response to his question about pain potions that really made him look annoyed. How could one not have any pain potions if they were supposed to be helping people like this?

"Oi! It's not all unregulated, I am very good at what I do," He huffed out at her, "It's great for times like this." Still, if she wasn't going to get him his own pain potions, then she should have something for him, shouldn't she? He eyed her as she pulled the bag close, tilting his head just slightly. "Muggle painkillers, eh?" He didn't say no though, quickly reaching for the pills and the glass.

Gwen finished his transaction, her lips pressing together as he asked questions right back. She didn’t get Mundungus Fletcher. This had been a totally normal conversation where everything had seemed pretty standard. And now… Was he flirting with her/ Gwen shifted on her feet. He probably didn’t actually mean it. From what she could tell, he was an incorrigible flirt who would smile at anything that stopped and looked at him for more than two seconds. 

“I was trying to be polite, but I’m going to be honest.” Gwen kept her voice deadpan. “You don’t exactly strike me as the running kind, Fletcher.” 

She turned away from him, tidying the display on the counter. “I suspect it’s probably for the best if you don’t answer anyway. I don’t need to know anything incriminating, after all.”

💐

Fletch blinked, eyebrows raising at Gwen’s deadpan words, before he let out a laugh. “No?” He asked, purposefully leaning further against the counter now, watching her closely. He playfully did a once over, hoping that she’d note it, and just generally trying to be an annoyance at this point. He paused, before a smirk crossed his face and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m pretty good at running away from things,” He stated innocently, “that’s a running kind, isn’t it?” He watched her as she moved to the display, snorting out another laugh. “I’m not planning on doing anything illegal! I mean, not today at least, but you just asked about today. I was hoping to get some good food, or maybe a drink or something.” He shrugged his shoulders, before pausing and adding, “You’d really turn me in if I said anything, would you?”

Reggie did smirk as he heard Nate following behind as he’d predicted, but it wasn’t out of malice. If anything, it felt like routine. He hadn’t needed to say, “Hey, follow me,” because he’d known Nate would. That was predictable in a nice way. 

But he frowned as he realized they’d been supposed to bring something to drink. “Well, it looks like there’s plenty here, but I suppose we can nip out if we need to for reinforcements later if it becomes an issue.” He stepped toward the counter, considering things for a moment before realizing someone had brought apple juice. That he could work with.

“Some of us want a little culture to our drinks,” he joked, eyeing the can in Nate’s hand. It really had no heat or even truth. Reggie definitely didn’t consider himself above canned beer. He just was in the mood for something more as he poured a few things into a class. The choices were with care, but the quantities weren’t. As he took his first sip, Reggie paused to consider it, then nodded to himself. Not bad. 

That settled, he turned and looked at Nate with one brow arched. “All right, I’ll bite,” he said. “What did you bring? Is this like ‘party high fun times’ drugs or like black quicksilver ‘we’ll see sounds if we’re not careful’ drugs?”

💐

Nate made a face slightly as he thought about that, because if there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was leave the party if it was fun, to go out and get alcohol. But then a thought crossed his mind, and he smirked lightly. “Yeah, I mean, if anything, we can send the adult of the party out to go get something for all the kids, you know?” He glanced over at Reggie with a smirk as he spoke.

He snorted lightly at the joke then, shrugging his shoulders. “There’s plenty of time for culture later,” He teased, “Though, maybe I’ll need you to help me pour the drink later on, if you’re that good at mixing it, yeah?” He watched the older man, noting that he seemed to like whatever mix he’d made.

“You’ll bite, huh?” He smirked, but then shrugged and reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple baggies. “Both,” He stated proudly, “Figure we’ve got some for the partiers, and something else if anyone wants to be a little more adventurous, you know?” He shoved the baggies back into his pocket, adding, “That’s for a bit later though.”

Xenophilius did not want to look at Nate’s face for fear that the pitiful, helpless look he had perfected long ago would be there. If it was, Xeno knew he would not resist it. He was only one wix, after all, and Nate Fletcher was very, very persuasive. Particularly when there was a pout or a pleading eye involved.

Despite himself, though, Xeno did smile at the other’s comment on their lecturing. “Yes, I am certain Reggie lectured you just fine,” he quips, shaking his head. He was almost certain Reggie had, in fact, lectured the younger wix after making sure he was alright. And then whatever else they’d gotten up to.

The enthusiastic agreement made a small laugh escape, and he nods, tilting to look sidelong at Nate’s face. “Yes, Greta a complete look over, just as he has said. No more fretting. It will all be fine, and I am sure you shall see the other one–” meaning Reggie, he hadn’t been by in a handful of days “–sometime soon. You will not get to fretting over him, though. He was perfectly fine.”

And thank Merlin for that, really. He and Pandora would have been far more anxious, Xeno thinks, if that had been the case.

“Would you like tea first, Nate, or later?”

Nate’s face changed into a grin when Xeno brought up Reggie, the boy letting out a chuckle. “Oh yeah, you know, lectured me just fine,” He stated, the grin turning into a smirk. Was he trying to make it sound far dirtier than it should sound? Of course he was. That was one thing Nate was good at, wasn’t it?

He smirked more at hearing the laugh from Xeno though, offering the other a playful wiggle of his eyebrows when they looked over at him. He cleared his throat a little, trying to go back to looking maybe a bit more serious as Xeno went back to talking to Greta. There was some sort of reaction in his chest at Reggie being referred to as ‘the other one’ in regards to him, but he just hummed softly and nodded.

“Reggie was all good, thankfully,” He agreed, “Otherwise, well...” He trailed off, because well, it probably wasn’t good to threaten to burn down buildings if your friend was hurt, was it? In any case, he was sure that Xeno at least knew that he’d have been far more crazy if Reggie had been hurt.

All right, perhaps some degree of his dramatics were warranted, if his ankle was that bad off. Poor Fletcher, if only he cried wolf less. But now Robyn could see the scratches on the door for herself, and she wasn’t about to ignore him out of a stubborn need to be right.

“I’m asking questions so I can determine how best to help you,” she said smoothly; not of drop of irritation made it through to betray any tested patience. Her fingers finished their search and she decided that it was fine to leave as it was for now. Whatever healing Black (the elder, rasher, surprisingly still alive one) had done was holding, and she and Fletcher shared a bigger concern.

Pivoting on her heels, she evaluated his arms, flecked with the signs of fiendfyre burns. Any other fire, and she wouldn’t be concerned about them at all, but fiendfyre was nasty and unpredictable. Bending over him, she ghosted her fingers just above the wounds, tracing them up. “Is this all of them?” She eyed his shirt, looking for any burn marks. It was hard to tell. “Off,” she ordered, pointing at his chest before turning to tug her kit of things closer to her. It included a bunch of minor painkillers, but he wasn’t getting those until she’d gotten all the information she needed out of him.

Fletch kept making a face as Robin spoke like that, though he was grateful for how she didn’t seem, at least outwardly, to be irritated with him. Sure, he understood the whole, having to ask questions thing, but couldn’t she just help sooner? “And I’m answering them, aren’t I?” He stated simply in return, though it wasn’t as snippy as the previous replies had been. Even if he was being entirely annoying, he was at least answering them.

He shivered as she ghosted her fingers over the wounds, jutting out his lower lip again to look as sad as possible. “No,” he muttered out, “Pretty sure they’re like, everywhere. You know how fiendfyre works, yeah?” Was he sure there were burns everywhere? No, but his entire body did ache for whatever reason it might be, and so he was just going to go with that for an easier statement.

Minus, you know, the lyrics about it actually being love he's thinking about