Fair Game | Foul Play : Chapter III, Part i

[qblackheart]

Ron Weasley, to Jared, who’d had to agree with that sage analogy. He’d been there and done that (fallen in love and been blindsided by a Bludger), and he realized it was especially true if the object of your undeclared affection was: too smart for their own good, more than a wee bit high-maintenance, absolutely terrified of commitment, or named Jensen Ackles. Or Hermione Granger, as Ron would’ve been quick to add on had he had the guts to own up to it. It was a good thing that they (Jared and Ron) were so daring and plucky in a pinch (especially in the matters of the heart and being Bludgered). Or maybe they were both just colossally stupid. Same thing, sometimes.



It was a lovely day for a walk down Diagon Alley; Jensen just never expected it to lead to a journey down memory lane as well.

He had a plan - of course he did; he was nothing if not meticulous, especially given the latest ultimatum his father’d issued - he just needed to think it through a bit more before he put it into action; this was such a delicate matter. He hadn’t expected to walk past the windows of the Magical Menagerie and catch a glimpse of Jared inside, playing in the Puffskein pen (a treat usually reserved for children, but then again Jared was a giant child), with the proprietor smiling on indulgently. Jensen watched as Jared gazed longingly at the toffee-striped, custard-coloured puffball pets one last time before walking away, waving at the shopkeeper just as Jensen Disillusioned himself.

He followed Jared as he ducked into an alleyway, one that was a well-known shortcut to Fortescue’s - a trip to Diagon Alley was incomplete without stopping for an ice - so Jensen timed himself and neatly Disapparated, appearing right in Jared’s path, and, because Jared had always been a bit slow on the uptake, into the circle of his arms as he’d barged right into him.

A few minutes later, Jensen was kissing him again, because when it came to Jared, he had no self-control to speak of, and worse still, his mouth tended to run off without prior permission from his brain, and before he knew it, he was practically declaring his undying love, just not in so many words, thank Merlin.

They were enjoying their reunion, the gorgeous weather, and their ice creams (Everything but the Kitchen Sink for Jared - his usual mish-mash of ridiculous flavours and toppings that had no business being together in a single, gigantic bowl that could’ve easily fed all of Ireland, the North and the Republic - and Fleur de Sel Caramel for Jensen), when things went straight to Hell in a rather fashionable handbasket otherwise known as Jensen’s mother.

“Darling!”

Jensen tried not to leap right out of his skin as she appeared on the street beside their table with a loud cracking sound, but he quickly gathered his wits and stood to greet her, Jared following suit like the polite little Hufflepuff he was. “Mother.”

“Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yes. Fancy that,” Jensen remarked drolly, giving her a quick kiss, and resolutely trying to ignore Jared’s presence; perhaps if he did, she would, too. Then, of course, Mackenzie had to go and appear beside her.

“Oh, hello, Jensen!” She smirked at him. “Mum, I thought you told me that a herd of stampeding Erumpents couldn’t make Jensen join us today.”

Donna Ackles chuckled. “I can assure you that I’m as surprised as you are. I hadn’t even bothered to mention it to him, but now that you’re here, Jensen…”

Jensen gritted his teeth. “I am not joining you. I have other business to attend to.” This, of course, made both his mother and his sister take notice of Jared. “And I bumped into an old…acquaintance.” He dared not look at Jared as he spoke, but he had no other choice; this was for Jared’s own good.

“Jared, right?” Mackenzie asked. “You were in my year at Hogwarts.”

Jared nodded with an uncertain look in Jensen’s direction and, shite, Jensen felt like a heel. “Mother, this is Jared Padalecki. Jared, my mother.”

“How do you do, Mrs. Ackles?”

“Very well, thank you, dear.” Donna beamed at him; she’d always been impressed by good manners and Jared’s were impeccable, courtesy of his Great Aunt Callie, Jared’d once told him. “If you were in Mackenzie’s year, how is it that you know Jensen so well?”

“Er… ‘So well’?”

“He’s eating ice cream with you and he detests sweets.”

Jared blinked at that. “No, he doesn…er… Quidditch,” he blurted out, switching tracks as Jensen heaved a subtle sigh of relief. He pointedly ignored his sister’s raised eyebrow.

“Jared’s also a friend of Charles Weasley, Mother; we used to meet at the Burrow occasionally.”

“Ah!” Donna nodded in understanding. “The Weasleys are always very welcoming. But I have to admit, I’ve not heard your name mentioned in the Ravenclaw Review, my dear.”

“Umm… I was in Hufflepuff.”

“Oh!” Donna looked more than a little startled and Jensen wanted her gone yesterday.

“Mother, didn’t you have errands to run? Don’t let us keep you from…wherever you were off to.”

Suitably distracted, Donna looked at him and smiled and Jensen felt worry churn in his gut. “We’re off to Gringott’s, darling. To pick up your Great Grandmama’s… Oh!” She jumped as Danneel suddenly Apparated beside her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Danneel said by way of greeting, smiling when she saw Jensen. “Hello, handsome.”

“Danneel,” Jensen responded, bending down to politely buss her tilted-up cheek.

“Does this mean you’re joining us to get the ring?”

Jensen stopped breathing, just for a second, but it was long enough for Jared to notice and stiffen at his side. “What ring?” they asked in unison.

It was Donna who answered as she tried not to look at Jared in puzzlement. “Your Great Grandmama’s Marquise Sapphire. Your father and I thought it would be the perfect ring to present to Danneel on your engagement. It needs to be re-sized, though. Your Great Grandmama was a rather large woman.”

And as his mother kept nattering on about his Great Grandmama’s girth, with a few more details about Jensen’s upcoming nuptials thrown into the mix for good measure, Jensen felt the ground fall out from under him as he saw Jared’s once sunny expression dim into something dark and bleak and absolutely gutted, so yeah, Hell, handbasket; it was hopeless.

As Jared Disapparated a polite while later, the remains of his ice cream melting into a sad little mountain of goop, he dropped a folded piece of parchment that Mackenzie picked up and handed over to Jensen. He didn’t look at it until he returned home and, when he did, the words on the page made up his mind for him, and he tossed all his well laid plans out the window; it was time to throw caution to the wind and do what he did best: fly.

By the seat of his pants this time.



When Jensen arrived in Falmouth for the Falcons’ open try-outs a month later, as per the instructions on the parchment Jared had dropped when he’d disappeared from Jensen’s life, he was almost too late, and if not for a series of rather fortuitous events, there was no telling what he would’ve done.

“What are you doing here?” Jared spat as soon as he saw him stride up to where the coaches were evaluating potential players to pad the team’s roster.

“Trying out,” Jensen blithely responded, ignoring the malice in Jared’s tone for the time being. “Would’ve thought that was obvious.”

“Nothing is ever obvious when it comes to you, Ackles,” Jared told him angrily, stalking off in a huff and finding the spot furthest from Jensen to wait his turn.

Jensen was about to join him when Steven Williams, the Falcons Flying Coach, whom the team had recently recruited from America, walked by; he stopped when he spied Jensen. “Jensen Ackles, right?”

“Yes. Coach Williams. Good to see you again, sir.”

“And you, son.” The man grinned at him. “How’s that old dog Morgan doing?”

“He was well the last time I saw him,” Jensen said of the Conjurors Quidditch Coach, Jeff Morgan. “If a bit inebriated.”

Williams barked out a laugh. “When is he not?”

“He does do Ireland proud.”

“That he does. So how come you’re here? Done with university?”

“I am. I heard the team’s looking for a pair of Beaters, so I thought I’d give a go.”

“Excellent! Can’t wait to see you fly, son. Jeff’s always had good things to say about you, and don’t think I’ve forgotten that friendly match the Conjurors played against my Windracers two years ago.”

“Thank you, sir. That was a great game. Plus, the chance to play in America was well worth it.”

Williams beamed in approval. “Let me introduce you to our coaching staff. This way,” he called as he set off, right past Jared who resolutely did not look at Jensen, and towards a stand of brooms where the coaches had gathered. Jensen was quickly introduced to the team's manager, Mark Sheppard (who was also the Beater Coach), Jim Beaver (the Keeper Coach), Loretta Devine (the Chaser Coach), and Lauren Cohan (the Seeker Coach), before Williams turned to them and said, “He’s fresh off his captaincy with the Conjurors.”

Beaver squinted at him. “You’re one of Morgan’s? Were you at Hogwarts or an Irish school?”

“Hogwarts, sir. We took the House Cup when I captained the Ravenclaw team in my final year.”

“Hmm…” Beaver looked him up and down, frowning as he did so. “You’re a bit young.”

“With all due respect, sir, your team’s a bit old.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Coach Cohan smirked. “I like him.”

“You like everyone,” Coach Devine said. “A bit too much, if you ask me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t recall asking you.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Coach Sheppard interrupted. “Common goal, remember? Although, I hope you realize, Ackles, that the Falcons don’t prescribe to the Conjurors version of the sport. We’re vicious out there, and I, for one, would love it if we were able to bring back some of the magic of our glory days.” He smirked at Jensen. “You know what I mean?”

Jensen was sure his face was a picture of unholy glee. “The days of Kevin and Karl Broadmoor, you mean? Back before they were suspended for… What was it the League called it? Oh yeah. ‘Unnecessary roughness.’” He grinned at the man he hoped to impress with his abilities with a bat and broom. “They’re my idols. The original Bash Brothers.”

“Now I know I like you!” Cohan laughed and, this time, Devine joined in.

“I agree. Why wait? Let’s see what you can do.”

Jensen nodded as Sheppard thumped him on the back and led him towards the pitch. “You against one of our Beaters, I think. Maybe Jake Abel. He’s only been with us for a year, and you’d be matched in size and relative skill.”

“If you’ll allow me, Coach, I have a better idea.”

“Spoken like a true Ravenclaw.”

Jensen had to grin at that. “I have a friend here. One I trained with while still at Hogwarts. How about you match the two of us against your best Beaters?”

“And if only one of you is any good?”

“Then only that one makes the team.”

“And if that one is not you?”

“Then I’ll try again next year, but I won’t go away unhappy.”

Sheppard studied him with shrewd eyes. “Who’s your friend?” Jensen turned to point Jared out but before he could say a word, Sheppard spoke. “That Padalecki lad?” Jensen nodded and Sheppard smirked. “The one who’s been glaring daggers at you this entire time?”

Jensen shrugged. “The very one.”

“I know him. He hasn’t made the team the past two years.”

“Then he’s only gotten better this year.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in him. Considering he looks like he’s about to hex you into next week.”

“He’s temporarily got his knickers in a bunch, don’t worry about him,” Jensen said, waving off Jared’s oh-so-obvious fury and focusing on the task at hand. “The point is, I taught him everything I know. We learnt this game together, he and I, and we’ve come up with barely legal moves that we can execute at the drop of a hat,” Jensen explained, trying not to get too carried away, but this was about Jared, and Quidditch, and it was hard not to. “And we weren’t just friends. We were rivals. He played for Hufflepuff at school but whenever we played for fun, we were always on the same side. I know his moves, and his counter-moves, and he knows mine. We don’t need to see each when we take to the skies! It’s second nature to know exactly where the other one is, and yeah, we haven’t played together in years but we grew up together, and he didn’t have the benefit of honing his skills with Jeff Morgan but he’s done a good job with the Ghouls, as I’m sure you’re aware. This is instinctual for us; we can read each other’s minds out there, and not by any magical means. You know how it is with Beaters. You need that connection, like the one the Broadmoor boys had. That’s why you haven’t taken Jared on yet; he hasn’t clicked with any other Beater. Not the way we do together. Just give us a chance. I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”

Sheppard blinked at him in surprise. Truth be told, Jensen was a bit surprised himself, but he’d meant every word he’d said. “Right then. Our ‘best’ Beaters were traded to the Canons but our reserve Beaters will take you two on. If Padalecki agrees.”

“Oh, he will.”

Sheppard studied him again, and Merlin only knew what he saw. “Lover’s spat?”

Jensen choked on air. “What?”

“I recognize that look he’s giving you. It’s one my wife’s perfected over the years. Getting that look off her face has always involved chocolate and flowers and lots and lots of grovelling on my part.”

“Would there be a problem if it was a…lover’s…spat?”

“What you do on your own time is your business and no concern of the team, its players or its management,” Sheppard stated, doubtless by rote. “So long as it does not interfere with your game. And if you both do make the team, unless you go public with it, no one would ever hear it from me.”

“Understood, sir. I appreciate it.”

“Then go get your mate and show us what you can do.” Sheppard winked at him. “I suggest you start with the grovelling bit. I’ve found that always works best for me.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!” Jensen glanced at Jared over his shoulder, only to find him glaring back and then hastily looking away. He sighed; the hard part was done, now for the tricky bit. He strode purposefully towards Jared, mentally preparing himself to beg and grovel and generally make an idiot of himself. The flowers (well, flowering plants, because Jared detested when flowers were ripped off, leaving their parent plant sad and lonely, and Merlin, Jared was such a…Hufflepuff sometimes) and chocolate (he’d have to fly to Honeydukes, Jared’s favourite sweet shop) would have to wait.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Jared said in a truly bitchy huff as Jensen stalked right up into his personal space.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”

“Does it have something to do with you?” Jensen nodded. “Does it also require me?” Jensen nodded again. “Then…no!” Jared roared.

The players nearby shot startled looks at them, giving them a wide enough berth for Jensen to cast a Muffliato. “They’re willing to let us play against their reserve Beaters, Jared!” A flicker of interest flashed in Jared’s eyes. “Abel. And probably Roché, if I know their roster. C’mon! You know we can out-fly them any day! We can be the Broadmoors for a new generation.”

“Sure. If you weren’t such a…a… There are no words! I have no words, Jensen!” Jared sputtered, getting more flushed and angry and hurt-looking with every passing second. “All those letters I sent. You… Why didn’t you just tell me? I felt like such a…fool.”

Jensen fisted his hands in Jared’s jacket to haul him closer. “You’re not a fool! I am. Well, I was, anyway,” Jensen growled. “I didn’t tell you about my so-called marriage because I didn’t know about it myself!”

“Don’t give me that! You’re many things, Jensen, but stupid is not one of them!” Jared paused, his chest heaving. “And neither am I.”

“Jared! I just got back from Ireland! My father barely gave me time to unpack before he was telling me about this proposal he’d brokered with the Harrises to bring our families together.”

Jared looked shocked. “What?”

“It was an arrangement, Jared. That is how marriage works in our family - they’re arranged. Dowries, transfer of property, magical assets, a bloody goat or two - you name it! Legalities, not love. It’s been that way for centuries. It’s how we maintain our pure-blooded heritage!” Jensen snorted in disgust. “I knew Danneel in school and, yeah, I might’ve liked her, but Joshua liked her more, and I was too busy playing the field to pay her much mind after that. She never meant anything to me. None of them did. Not even Kelly. Especially not Kelly. That - what happened on the train - was sheer stupidity on my part and, for that, I apologize. I’m the foolish one, I’ll own up to that, but not anymore.” Jensen paused to draw in a breath, and it almost burned his lungs. “I refused the proposal,” he said, looking into Jared’s eyes; “it’s just that I had to handle the matter delicately. Danneel’s a lovely person, and I didn’t want to hurt her. But it’s done now. It’s over.”

Jared’s hands came up to clamp around Jensen’s and he held on as if for dear life. “Truly? You mean it? You’re not marrying her?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jensen assured him. “Following my dream, chasing after the only thing I’ve always wanted?”

“Playing Quidditch professionally,” Jared stated flatly, and he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Jensen.

“Better than that. Playing Quidditch professionally - with you.”

A muscle worked in Jared’s jaw. “I’ve tried out, but I never made it before.”

“Because you did it alone, and not with me, like it’s meant to be.” Jensen smirked, already relishing that bitchy little look blooming on Jared’s face again, the one that indicated that Jensen was in the right and Jared knew it and didn’t like it.

“It’s only because flying with you is fun.”

“Admit it, you’re nothing without me, brat. Don’t you know that by now? Not to worry, though, your veritable knight in shining armour is here to save the day and your Quidditch career.”

“Arse. Hole.”

“Don’t know how that surprises you anymore, Jared. With me, what you get is exactly what you see.”

“That is so untrue,” Jared scoffed. “You’re the most complicated person I know. Your being an arse is just one facet of you.  There are at least a hundred others I’ve taken note of over the years and all of them are equally annoying.” Jensen grinned as Jared rolled his eyes. He’d counted on Jared forgiving him, if not letting him forget all that easily, but right now all he felt was the sure, steady beat of Jared’s heart beneath his hands, and all he saw was that familiar fond look in Jared’s eyes, and everything that’d been wrong in his world over the past month righted itself. Jared punched his shoulder. Hard. “Besides, I’ve always liked what I see.”

Jensen’s breath stuttered a bit in his chest, but he brushed it off with sarcasm, as usual. “You’re like an albatross around my neck.”

“I’m the apple of your eye, and you know it.”

“I know nothing of the sort.”

“Well, I know better than you when it comes to these things. C’mere,” Jared said, pulling Jensen into a hug, squashing him to his chest, like Jared was a big baby and Jensen was his favourite squishy toy.

“Jared,” Jensen muttered into the side of Jared’s neck, “what’ve I told you about public displays of affection?”

“Get used to it, because if we make the team, you’re stuck with me. Hugs and all.”

“Merlin, there goes my life as I knew and loved it,” Jensen mock-complained, patting Jared’s chest when Jared deigned to release him. “We, eh?”

“We. You and me,” Jared affirmed. “And I get to lord this over you until the day we die.”

“Fair enough,” Jensen acquiesced. “Are we planning on dying together then?”

“Don’t think you can be rid of me that easily.”

“Al. Ba. Tross.”

“Arse.”

“Touché.” Jensen smirked up at the only weakness he’d ever had. “Can we go kick some arse, now? Please? Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

Jared grinned, and it was a thing of beauty. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

“The way it was always meant to be.”



Jensen and Jared took to the skies as one, but they split up as soon as the Bludgers were put into play, Abel and Roché on their tailwind, countering every move they made. It was exhilarating, and Jensen knew Jared was feeling it, too, like a thrum in the air after lightening crackled through it. They sped past each other, easily dodging Bludgers as they swung their bats, sending the balls slicing through the air and towards their targets with deadly speed and accuracy.

He heard the small crowd of spectators, mostly other players who’d come for the try-outs and some of the coaches; Sheppard and Williams, though, were on their brooms watching them, cataloguing their every move. Time to show off a bit, Jensen mused. He turned to find Jared on his way to passing him by again, so he gave him one of the little signals they’d perfected playing Weasley Quidditch, and, in the blink of an eye, they were executing a flawless Bludger Backbeat; a tricky manoeuvre, even for professional players, but he and Jared pulled it off with uncanny precision, despite their years of playing apart, in unison, no less, backhandedly beating their individual Bludgers in opposite directions and straight for their rivals.

Roché barely stayed on his broom, and Abel narrowly missed getting hit; Sheppard looked like he was about to piss himself with joy.

Jared flew up to Jensen’s side, just as Abel and Roché regained their equilibrium and closed ranks, advancing towards them as one, so Jared and Jensen flew apart, each of them positioning themselves for the Bludger shooting towards them from behind, and when the timing was exactly right, they both pulled back their bats and hit the ball together, with all their might: a textbook execution of a Dopplebeater Defense.

Jensen spun a net to safely catch their rivals, and future teammates, he hoped, before they hit the ground. By the end of the day, needless to say, Jensen and Jared became the newest pair of Beaters for the Falmouth Falcons, and the entire team celebrated as they welcomed all the new arrivals by taking to the skies and playing a no-holds-barred version of the game, the coaches and more seasoned players against the rookies, as Williams called them.

Strategizing came a mere week later, after countless practice sessions and no rest to speak of; they’d barely had time to really introduce themselves to one another before the coaches split them up and took their individual groups aside for intensive, structured training suited to the specific positions they played.

Sheppard took the lead in announcing his picks for their first set of games. “For the benefit of our newcomers, give us a wave when we call out your names. Now, we’ve got the Wanderers coming here for our season opener and I want Sebastian Roché and Jake Abel to play that match, but the week after, we host the Pride of Portee, a much tougher team. Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, that’ll be the two of you and, if all goes well, lads, you’ll get the go ahead against the Tornados, too.”

Beaver spoke next. “Aldis Hodge will be our go-to Keeper when Abel and Roché play, and our stalwart Captain, Mark Pellegrino, will guard the goals when Ackles and Padalecki play. Seb, I still need you to maintain your Keeping skills. Just in case.” Sebastian didn’t look too delighted at the prospect but nodded anyway. “Loretta?”

“Nothing much has changed this year. Our first line worked well for us last season: Misha Collins, Kim Rhodes, Cindy Sampson,” Devine called out. “I’ll play our Reserves depending on the strengths and weaknesses of the opposing team, but as I see it now, our second line will comprise some of our new recruits: Rachel Miner, Rob Benedict, Richard Speight Jr., and Matthew Cohen is our overall utility player; he’s also able to step in if one of regular Beaters gets injured.”

Coach Cohan was the last to speak. “My job’s easy-peasy. Katie Cassidy remains the Falcons’ Seeker against alpha teams. Anyone else and it’s a toss up between Genevieve Cortese and Emily Perkins.” She grinned at her girls. “Things are quite simple as far as I’m concerned: the more snitches you catch, the more matches you play. Any questions?” There was a general hum of consensus as Cohan stood and drew her wand. “Well then, time for team badges,” she declared, and a glass bowl of shiny silver badges materialized in her hand; a tap of her wand, and badges flew across the rooms and attached themselves to all the new players’ robes.

Jensen studied his, resplendent with the Falcons’ team logo etched onto it in black, the bird looking back at Jensen with a ferocious glint in its eye. The badge typified the team’s colours, black and grey, and he and Jared shared a gleeful look as they touched them for the first time.

“They’re not just pretty pieces of jewellery, boys,” Williams said, smirking at their reactions. “There’s a very powerful Protean Charm on them, so there’s no excuse for missing practice sessions and important team announcements. Wear it on your person at all times during the season and in the off-season; it’s mandatory to wear it while you’re in uniform.” He clapped his hands and stood. “And now, I think, we’ll break for dinner. But not before we teach our rookies here the team motto.”

Everyone, coaches and players, good-naturedly pushed and shoved each other as they shuffled towards the centre of the room, hands outstretched and piled one of top of the other as they yelled out as one:

Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads!

Falcons, fly, oi, oi, oi!

It was a lot cooler than the Ravenclaw cheer (Ravenclaw, make them sore!), Jensen thought, and definitely not as lame as the Hufflepuff one (Hufflepuff, do your stuff!), but then again, they weren’t exactly in the little leagues anymore.