Al

Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him. 

And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s. 

seekercallum​:

It was a relief that there hadn’t been a formal quidditch practice the day after the worst quidditch match of Cal’s life. Cal didn’t think he could have dealt with facing everyone, though the lack of practice hadn’t stopped him from getting out on the pitch. He woke up earlier than normal, left a note for the kids, and took to the pitch at the crack of dawn, relieved he’d beaten any of him teammates out there. He felt a little more grounded after talking with Galvin and then talking to Mac again, reassuring him he wasn’t angry with him, that Mac could talk to him, that Cal was here to help however he could, even though it was clear there was very little he could actually do. Though it was still a little concerning how talking with Galvin had helped, he tried to remember his conversation with Mac, that he had Mac’s blessing, and he knew he had Ian’s too, given that he’d let Galvin into the house in the first place. Cal had no doubt that Ian had already known exactly who Galvin was. 

Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him. 

And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s. 

Cal was not looking forward to facing Al after that disaster of a match, but he’d made plans to join Al for tea a week ago and Cal wasn’t going to bail on them. Al had done too much for them for Cal to do that. If Al was disappointed, which he surely was because Cal had been the opposite of a good advertisement for the Comet yesterday morning, Cal would just have to go face it. Face it and hope one rubbish game wasn’t enough to make Al feel like he’d wasted years of investments into Cal’s playing, into making Cal his lead spokesperson. Rationally, Cal knew that probably wouldn’t be the case. But he still felt like he’d let Al down in a major way. Nothing to do for it now but face Al’s disappointment, so Cal braced himself as he arrived in front of Al’s front door and knocked.

Cal still remembered the first time he met Cal, how he’d told him even then that he thought he was good, and Cal had always wondered how the hell Al could tell. Sometimes he was pretty sure Al couldn’t actually tell and was just guessing and hoping he was right. He did his best to prove Al right. Right now he wasn’t sure he had, no matter what Al said about just doing his best. Cal had been doing his best for years, but it seemed like it just wasn’t good enough. Even with Al saying the opposite, even with Mac himself telling Cal it wasn’t his fault, he still just wished he was good enough to have saved all the kids. Still, he managed a weak smile when Al squeezed his hand. One of the nice things about Al was that he didn’t pry. Even when he was offering to help, and helping in far too many ways, he somehow managed to now pry except where it was necessary. Thankfully he didn’t think what was going on right now required his prying. He was surprised when Al said a distraction might be a good thing, though he shouldn’t have been. Al was always telling him to take a break, to do things for himself. Cal had gotten to go to Hogwarts, though. That was his break. Only Al wasn’t the only person telling him to take some time for himself. Telling him a distraction was okay. Wil said it a lot. Even Mac had said so, when Cal told him about Galvin. Al didn’t know about Galvin, but there was something about that smile he gave Cal when he talked about distractions….sometimes it felt like Al had him figured out, even when Cal hadn’t told him nearly enough. The offer for the kids to come over wasn’t a surprise. Al offered that a lot, and Cal said no to it less frequently than he used to. Mostly because Al did seem to actually enjoy the kids’ company. Even if he just enjoyed it because he enjoyed helping them. Giving Cal an opportunity to take an afternoon off. Which wasn’t something he often did, though he had left the kids at Al’s and gone to hang out with Wil a few times. It wasn’t Wil he was thinking of hanging out with this time. Maybe that was why he felt a bit flustered when Al mentioned that the kids could stay the night. “I—” Cal let out a cough. “No, we wouldn’t want to impose on you like that.” This was how things worked. Al offered, Cal refused, Al would probably offer again until he wore Cal down. But Cal hesitated this time, then added, “I’m sure the kids would like to come by for the afternoon, though.” It would be good for the kids, that much at least. It felt like a compromise of sorts. And Cal’s mind was still on something else Al had said. He hesitated again. “…How do you tell the difference? Between a good distraction and a bad one?”

Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him. 

And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s. 

seekercallum​:

It was a relief that there hadn’t been a formal quidditch practice the day after the worst quidditch match of Cal’s life. Cal didn’t think he could have dealt with facing everyone, though the lack of practice hadn’t stopped him from getting out on the pitch. He woke up earlier than normal, left a note for the kids, and took to the pitch at the crack of dawn, relieved he’d beaten any of him teammates out there. He felt a little more grounded after talking with Galvin and then talking to Mac again, reassuring him he wasn’t angry with him, that Mac could talk to him, that Cal was here to help however he could, even though it was clear there was very little he could actually do. Though it was still a little concerning how talking with Galvin had helped, he tried to remember his conversation with Mac, that he had Mac’s blessing, and he knew he had Ian’s too, given that he’d let Galvin into the house in the first place. Cal had no doubt that Ian had already known exactly who Galvin was. 

Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him. 

And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s. 

Cal was not looking forward to facing Al after that disaster of a match, but he’d made plans to join Al for tea a week ago and Cal wasn’t going to bail on them. Al had done too much for them for Cal to do that. If Al was disappointed, which he surely was because Cal had been the opposite of a good advertisement for the Comet yesterday morning, Cal would just have to go face it. Face it and hope one rubbish game wasn’t enough to make Al feel like he’d wasted years of investments into Cal’s playing, into making Cal his lead spokesperson. Rationally, Cal knew that probably wouldn’t be the case. But he still felt like he’d let Al down in a major way. Nothing to do for it now but face Al’s disappointment, so Cal braced himself as he arrived in front of Al’s front door and knocked.

It wasn’t a surprise when Al offered to help, or just listen, probably because he already knew Cal wouldn’t accept his help. He’d accepted too much of Al’s help as it was. Asked for too much, even though he’d hated asking for it. And this wasn’t something Al could help with. If it was, Cal was pretty sure he’d ask, as much as it would pain him to have to. He’d do it to save Mac. But Al couldn’t fix this one, not with his gold, and the last thing Cal wanted was Al getting involved in all that Dumbledore mess too. As much as he tried to keep a professional distance there, he owed Al a lot. Cared about him. Didn’t want to disappoint him, which Cal was certain he’d done both with what happened to Mac and now with yesterday’s match. Al certainly looked disappointed, frowning like that when Cal brought it up. Only—oh. He was telling Cal not to worry about it. Now Cal was the one frowning. It felt like the end of the world. It felt worse than a bad broom, too, though he also knew how much time and resources Al put into each new model. So maybe it was somewhat comparable to a pro having a shit match. Only Cal couldn’t afford mistakes. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Al that he’d still be very good if he kept having not good days. That wasn’t a theory he could afford to test. Still, he gave Al a weary smile. He had a point. Cal could have been hurt. Which was not a very reassuring thought. “Thanks, Al. I just, um.” He shifted slightly, eyes flickering down to the table. “I feel like I let you down. And the kids.” Especially the kids. Especially Mac. But he’d burdened Al with enough of his problems over the years. Even just admitting he felt like he’d let Al and the kids down felt like burdening him. Only talking to Galvin yesterday had helped. And Galvin had accurately predicted that Al wouldn’t be disappointed in him even though he hadn’t even met Al, just seen the photo of him and Cal on Cal’s dresser. Still, he couldn’t tell Al about Mac. “Um, but there’s nothing you can do to help. I don’t think anyone can help,” he added, frowning at the table before he remembered himself. “I just, um. I just need to stay focused, is all. Not let myself get distracted.” Which he was doing with Galvin. Only maybe that was an okay distraction. Or rather maybe he didn’t have to be a distraction? Cal wasn’t sure. 

Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him. 

And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s. 

seekercallum​:

It was a relief that there hadn’t been a formal quidditch practice the day after the worst quidditch match of Cal’s life. Cal didn’t think he could have dealt with facing everyone, though the lack of practice hadn’t stopped him from getting out on the pitch. He woke up earlier than normal, left a note for the kids, and took to the pitch at the crack of dawn, relieved he’d beaten any of him teammates out there. He felt a little more grounded after talking with Galvin and then talking to Mac again, reassuring him he wasn’t angry with him, that Mac could talk to him, that Cal was here to help however he could, even though it was clear there was very little he could actually do. Though it was still a little concerning how talking with Galvin had helped, he tried to remember his conversation with Mac, that he had Mac’s blessing, and he knew he had Ian’s too, given that he’d let Galvin into the house in the first place. Cal had no doubt that Ian had already known exactly who Galvin was. 

Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him. 

And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s. 

Cal was not looking forward to facing Al after that disaster of a match, but he’d made plans to join Al for tea a week ago and Cal wasn’t going to bail on them. Al had done too much for them for Cal to do that. If Al was disappointed, which he surely was because Cal had been the opposite of a good advertisement for the Comet yesterday morning, Cal would just have to go face it. Face it and hope one rubbish game wasn’t enough to make Al feel like he’d wasted years of investments into Cal’s playing, into making Cal his lead spokesperson. Rationally, Cal knew that probably wouldn’t be the case. But he still felt like he’d let Al down in a major way. Nothing to do for it now but face Al’s disappointment, so Cal braced himself as he arrived in front of Al’s front door and knocked.

Maybe Cal shouldn’t have been so surprised when Al greeted him as he always did, calling Cal his dear boy and giving him a warm handshake and a squeeze of the arm, acting as pleased to see Cal as he always seemed to be. Surely he wasn’t, though. Not today. Not after yesterday. Cal had let so many people down and it felt like maybe he’d let Al down more than anyone. At least when it came to quidditch. He was still very aware of all the ways he’d let Mac down, and Ian. “Hi, Al,” Cal greeted him with a tired voice and a strained smile. He wasn’t quite as good at faking it with Al as he used to be, or more likely he’d never been that good at it. But he took the opportunity to try to collect himself a little more when Al was distracted talking to his house elf. “Some water would be great, thanks,” he told Al with a slightly less strained smile when he turned back to Cal. Cal thanked the house elf when it brought him a nice glass of water and then followed Al out to his outdoor dining room. Cal still wasn’t used to how nice Al’s place was, or how huge it was. He probably never would be, even though he was pretty sure he knew his way around the entire place at this point. 

It wasn’t a surprise when they sat down and Al immediately asked about the kids. Al always asked about the kids. But today the question felt heavier, weighted down by Cal’s performance the day before. Of course Al would know it was because of the kids. Cal’s whole body tensed as he looked around the garden, anywhere but at Al. “They’re fine,” he answered in a voice he knew was way too tense for Al to actually believe him. “It’s—…I’m dealing with it,” he added, even though there wasn’t much for him to deal with. Mac was stuck and Cal couldn’t help him and even if he told Al, Al couldn’t help him either. Not that it was Al’s problem. Al had taken on enough of the Fletchers’ problems as it was. Too many of them. Cal still didn’t see what Al got out of it, especially now Cal was fucking up quidditch. “What happened yesterday won’t happen again,” he added, because he still figured that was Al’s primary concern. 

It was clear from the start that Cal was still reeling from yesterday’s game. Al wished, not for the first time with Cal, that he could offer some comfort. Ease Cal’s burdens a little. He carried far too much weight on his shoulders for someone his age. Al would love to see Cal do something for himself. Maybe even date a little. Hogwarts had given him some time to himself, and he’d gained a friend out of it. Wil seemed just the sort of mate Cal needed. A good head on his shoulders but carefree like boys of their age should be. Never mind that at Cal’s age Al had still been working away building what he had now. Al’s childhood might not have been comfortable after his father died but it had been much more of a childhood then Cal’s. For now all he could do was not comment on Cal’s clear strain. Usually it was best to let Cal open up, if you could call it that, to him.

Cal did his best to shake off all those thoughts as he flew after a practice snitch, determined not to leave the pitch until he’d caught it at least five times. Theo and Jamie showed up together about halfway through Cal’s practice, and he was beyond appreciative of the way they just greeted him like normal and took to one side of the pitch to practice together. The whole team, with Jamie and Theo taking the lead, had made a point yesterday of assuring him they weren’t angry, that they were behind him, and while it meant a lot it wasn’t a conversation Cal wanted to rehash. He just wanted to never play that shit again. Especially not with everything their team had gone through this season, between the opening match attack that nearly killed Freddie, Sturgis going missing and coming back with part of himself missing, and Cene’s injury that kept him out for too much of the season. What was Cal’s excuse for playing like shit? It was his brother, it was what happened with Galvin, it was the weight of everything on his shoulders—but none of that felt like a good enough reason compared to everything the team had been through. Cal just needed to get his damn head on straight and not play that shit again. He couldn’t afford to. The kids needed him. His team needed him. 

And so he flew until he managed to forget all of that, until it was just him and the sky and the snitch and he caught it enough times that he felt like maybe, hopefully, he’d shaked off whatever shit was getting in his way. He hoped he had. At least he felt more ready to face the real practice with the whole team tomorrow. He waved to Jamie and Theo, and to Cene and Oli who’d shown up partway through Cal’s practice, which had been nice to give him some bludgers to dodge while practicing, and then cleaned up before disapparating not home, but to Al’s.