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"Does your secretary open all your memos?" Johann asked in a relaxed tone, a smile growing at the corners of his mouth. He was propped up on his elbow, regarding Balfour with his bright blue eyes. He still looked somewhat tired, but rather more alive for the past thirty-six or so hours, and certainly more comfortable out of his shirt and tie.

"I was pretty sure she might - it's downright impossible to accurately convey the notion that all I could think about for much of the day was a good proportion of the previous night's exchanges, in business formal." He lifted his other hand from the sheets and scratched his chin thoughtfully. He adjusted the covers around his waist before rolling onto his back and flopping his dark curls down onto the pillows again.

"She saw right through it, to the point of telling me not to use the main entrance." He folded his hands one over the other on his stomach and studied Balfour's bedroom ceiling. He hadn't expected to see it again so soon. Could have been worse, Lanningham could have used back entrance, and Johann might have considered her a little too familiar with matters.

It was strange to think that other people had seen them, or were talking about it. He'd been gossip for worse reasons, he supposed, but before, with Arcturus, they'd been paranoid.

He'd automatically assumed, for self-protection, that the last thing he needed was for the world to know. Especially so soon after Balfour had nearly knocked him off his feet in the middle of the dancefloor. Whereas he might not judge another for being with a man, his upbringing, and romantic bungles of the past couple of decades had made him believe it was best to keep things hidden. To his father, of course, it had been indescribably sinful - but, amongst many other, raw, recent matters, Johann recognised his father was perhaps the worst barometer of right and wrong in his life to date.

"It doesn't bother you, though, does it?" He asked, turning his head to regard the other wizard, not really defining it aloud, forgetting for a moment he'd had much of the discussion with himself and those familiar voices, entirely in his head.

Leaning against the headboard, Balfour stretched out in the decadent afterglow of their late afternoon romp. He had kicked off his sheets - the flat was warm enough without them - and seemed content to bask in silence for a while.

Elsewhere on the floor he could hear indistinct noises. The cats waking up to skitter erratically in the living room. Friday London might be heard getting into the swing of things if he strained his ears enough but there was no cause for that, not with the sounds of their respective breaths. Johann's deep and unwound voice.

Balfour hadn't realised that his eyes were closed. He opened them, glancing at Johann with a blissfully laid back expression. He'd been unconsciously winding and unwinding the pale blue necktie around his knuckles... pausing only to smile at the irregularity of having his secretary as a subject of post-sex discussion. Well. Pillow talk took all forms.

Under different circumstances, Mrs Lanningham's little note about the main entrance might have incited a worry but it seemed a distant concern now, something to ponder when he wasn't in the vicinity of those brilliant blue eyes.

"It doesn't bother you, though, does it?"

The question seemed to mean something else altogether, though Balfour was more than happy to listen to his bed partner go off on a tangent. He lowered the tie, extending a hand to gently play with the wizard's black curls.

"What?" he chuckled. "Mrs Lanningham answering my memos? I'd be more concerned if she were fact-checking the ones I write. None of her business really. I can ask her to stop if you'd like." Balfour tugged a curl, eyes moving lambently across Johann's shoulders - the slender lines of his pale chest, waist. The stray bite that (to his enjoyment) hadn't been concealed.

It occurred to him that Johann was objectively beautiful, even looking past the thrill of forwardness and attraction that had drawn them together at Le Masque just last night.

"She'll hardly be the worst censure once anyone else brings this up-" Balfour licked his lip thoughtfully, getting a sense of where he supposed the other man's introspection was drifting. "- but if I thought their opinions mattered, I wouldn't have tried to eat you up on the dance floor yesterday." He allowed himself a toothy, wolfish smile.

Balfour appeared to have somewhat an obsession with that tie. As requested, Johann had kept it on, even after his meeting following Balfour's memo.

That transport meeting had dragged more than any other time he'd had to cover it, and he was going to have some serious patching up to do with Roberta Pinn on Monday. He'd asked her to cover the meeting, which would have meant delaying her time with the delegates from the Seychelles. It had gone down terribly, and there'd been a genuine argument.

Since the end of the meeting however, it was a distant memory and he had not planned to revisit it until he returned to the office. Balfour's strong hands with the tie were strangely mesmerising as they repeated the wind and unwind. He was almost sorry when he put it down and reached his fingers out to run them through Johann's hair. The touch caused Johann to half-close his eyes, blinking as he realised his natural reaction.

"… I can ask her to stop if you'd like." There was a tug at one of his curls and Johann's eyes came open properly again. He splayed his hands on his stomach and gave a gentle shrug, indicating without speaking that it didn't bother him overly, now he knew for sure. He'd just find other ways.

"She'll hardly be the worst censure once anyone else brings this up-" Balfour's gaze was unfaltering, and caught the slight change to Johann's gaze in return, the extra line of worry creeping into his brow at that thought, "- but if I thought their opinions mattered, I wouldn't have tired to eat you up on the dance floor yesterday."

Johann mirrored his smile, and the trace of worry on his features fell away.
"I don't think I'll forget that moment all my life." He admitted quietly, the smile turning into a coy smirk. He hoped there would be many more!

He lifted his hands up from his stomach, dropping his gaze, studying the state of them - from the traces of ink that never quite seemed to vanish entirely to the nicks and cuts from paper and parchment. He rarely considered how he looked, or how he looked after himself unless someone brought it up in conversation. This was why he frequently neglected to remember to get his hair cut, and he was on the leaner side of late. They just weren't as important or as interesting as the work.

"Won't bother you then, what people think about you?" He was still intently studying his hands, suddenly not able to look at Balfour, even though they'd just spent the past however long it was, very much up close and personal. "You've no shame about it at all?" He asked, somewhat naively.

His mind jumped two steps, and on realising how that might sound, he suddenly looked up, eyes wide, hands curling into each other.
"Not that I'm implying I'm ashamed - I just. Well," he let out a little sigh, irritated with himself for his cowardice, "I don't have balls as big as yours, to put it bluntly."

"Mmm." Balfour made a deep sound in his chest, in agreement that it would be difficult to forget their dance floor kiss. It was certainly a more public declaration than typical but he was beginning to like that colour on himself.

Which, really, made Johann's following queries all the more treacherous to consider. He released the dark curls and sat up a little straighter, watching the ink stained hands move in response to their curious master. A frown. Shame? Did he seem ashamed? Or afraid? It pulled at the back of his mind like an earlier suspicion dragged home.

He had a reputation as being a witch's man since being promoted to division head. Most didn't know about this other proclivity and it wasn't like he took every opportunity to comment on somebody's fine behind.

"I don't have balls as big as yours, to put it bluntly."

Balfour chocked on the response he'd had in mind, turning his head suddenly as he crossed his legs in a flustered commotion. It didn't help that he'd not a shred to cover up. When he looked back, his expression was schooled into something vaguely less embarrassed but clearly recovering from stifled laughter.

"Fuck, Johann-" his eyes wrinkled amusedly. "- thank you. I think." Balfour cleared his throat and took a second to collect whichever thoughts remained. "Shame. Right. No, I got enough flak when I was younger to let it bother me now. It isn't... anyone else's business. And if they make it theirs I don't see why I should have any feeling about a backlash."

He reached across the space between them to take Johann's hand gently by the fingertips. "So, if we're going to be blunt. How open do you want to be about this?"

He couldn't help but grin a little at Balfour's reaction to his comment. He'd taken it as a compliment luckily, which is exactly how he'd intended it; both in terms of confidence, and sneakily in terms of physical appearance. Balfour's rapid rearrangement of legs only added to the amusement!

Johann rolled onto his side to make it easier to study Balfour, head still resting on the pillow, somewhat weary after the day, and everything with it. His mind wasn't prepared to fall asleep any time soon, but his body felt somewhat weary from the exertion.

"Fuck, Johann-"
"You just did." Johann cheekily interjected very quietly, lifting his hand from the sheets just enough to indicate their location,
"- thank you. I think."

The amusement was clearly left on Johann's features, and his eyes didn't move from Balfour's expression, suddenly very acutely interested in the response and the little movements. This sort of close study he'd refrain from doing with a good friend or family member, but would instead subject strangers to. They were new an unknown. It could make others uncomfortable, but Balfour's gaze had been as intense as he'd planted a hand in the middle of Johann's chest earlier.

Entirely sober today, Johann's keen eyes had already begun to map the skin of the other man, deciding not to ask about the scars - though not doubting they probably had good stories behind them. He would not tire from exploring, to find exactly what made Balfour gasp involuntarily or speak his name.

He enjoyed hearing Balfour's voice, the wizard used more than one, Johann knew that enough now, but his study of languages made him appreciate the differences in the inflection and timbre between the two sides. The darker voice made his heart beat a little quicker just for thinking of it.

Balfour's fingers reached his own, and he let his hand go with it.
"So, if we're going to be blunt. How open do you want to be about this?"

Johann lifted his head from the pillow, propping himself up on his elbow again, looking thoughtful.
"That horse might have bolted." He remarked, and that anxious look reappeared briefly. "I…"

He stopped himself, took a breath and closed his eyes, trying to still his swirling thoughts and ignore the other voices before opening them and looking to Balfour once more. "It's fine. It's more than time." He explained in a soft voice, "I would be lying if I said the last day or so has left me feeling giddy, in a good way." He smiled once again, a little colour rising to his cheeks. "People talk enough, and as you say, it's not their business. Why should I hide what deliriously distracts me?"

Johann tugged gently at Balfour's hand, kissing the back of his fingers softly, and then his knuckles, before lowering it slightly from his lips. His breath tickled the back of Balfour's hand as he spoke, and he met his lover's gaze with a steady stare.
"Daresay family, friends, colleagues - they've spoken far worse of me. I shouldn't hide what has taken me quite by surprise, and has filled an aching hole in my heart that's troubled me for a long time now."

He kissed Balfour's hand once more and laughed at himself, lowering his face a little to the sheets, still clasping the other man's hand.
"Merlin, I sound ridiculous. Whatever have you done to me, Balfour?"

Balfour watched carefully, though he tried not to give the impression of making a study.

"Why should I hide what deliriously distracts me?" Johann rightfully queried and for a moment he was nothing but a mess of dark curls - head bent over Balfour's hand, which was subject to a multitude of distracting sensations. Those lips. He ought to gently bruise them.

They uttered such endearing things. He intertwined his fingers with his partner's now, squeezing reassuringly at the mention of worse words being spoken. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been so open to him; words that, in any other context or by any other person, might be open to affectionate ridicule but at present only made Balfour's chest tighten with sentiment.

It was frightening because it made him wonder how to reciprocate the honesty, having comfortably led a life of sifting professional and personal masks. "Merlin, I sound ridiculous." Johann's countenance lowered to their clasped hands, "Whatever have you done to me, Balfour?"

Balfour, of course, had far too much modesty to make an actual reply. He slid over to his side and leaned down, taking Johann's chin in his free hand and lifted it up for a quick kiss. Too quick. He tried again - moving closer to incline over Johann as their lips pressed. A slow, searching kiss that desperately wished to taste the other wizard's words.

And then, tilting back for air. "Nothing compared to the things I want to do," he rested their temples together. "You're fascinating, I hope you know that. I don't... I'm not quite as eloquent with my feelings. You may need to be patient with me." Balfour closed his eyes - not at all eager to pull away, trying to appreciate the warmth between them.

Something Johann mentioned crept back into his thoughts however, and he tried not to furrow his brow in asking, "What worse things have been said about you, exactly?" A playful note entered his voice but it danced over the concrete fact that Balfour did not actually know much about this new companion he had so easily let into his home.

Balfour didn't say anything in return to that - which was more the point. He moved to kiss Johann again, the linguist put up no resistance, now somewhat more adept at negotiating Balfour's lips in return. A little more pressure than he'd initially thought to use, he'd forget to breathe, especially when Balfour moved to lie close.

Given half a chance, he would willingly lose a week, or more, just to pleasure, and nothing more involved than that. He felt a strong attraction on the physical level alone, without delving into deeper, and a part of him never wanted to leave the bed, to be far from those eyes, to touch Balfour in every way another could. Balfour's query about how open had more implied that he perceived the possibility of it being something more substantial.

His mind made a connection to the lifestyle of one of his friends, who rather than tie herself down with a relationship, tended to spend a night in one bed, three in another, and then return to the first weeks later. She craved the first - the lack of commitment for too long, just the physical. Johann on the other hand, was still a little new at negotiating a longer relationship - and this one had already got further than his last. He was't too keen in it burning out, though only had observations of other relationships to judge. As Hannah had once told him, proper couples lived together, kissed, shared beds and had children. It was an alien concept back then, but as time wore on, all but the last seemed to be out there on the horizon.

The kiss made his head spin when it came back longer a moment later, and he felt Balfour's body press against his again. For sitting out above the sheets, his lover's skin had cooled slightly against his own.
"Nothing compared to the things I want to do." Balfour admitted, and Johann's eyebrows rose. He was sure the discovery of the list of things was going to be pleasurable (in various guises) and he wanted to be able to surprise Balfour in time.

Balfour's words were softer as they drew close, heads together.
"You're fascinating, I hope you know that." Johann's eyebrows drew together, not initially able to interpret at close range whether that was implied as a compliment. People had said that before, instead of weird, trying to be polite.

Balfour's description of eloquence and implication that they differed in the ability to express their thoughts, was not of concern to Johann. He gave a soft smile.
"But you are," he assured Balfour in a soft voice, "you just express it in other ways." He returned the squeeze with their fingers interlaced.

"What worse things have been said about you, exactly?" They certainly shared a keen curiosity, Johann thought, as he raised his gaze automatically, mind going back through memories, trying to summarise some examples, while balancing the rising anxiety that if he was too exact, Balfour might reconsider.

"… are you going to stay here and act a coward …"

"Nothing groundbreaking." Johann dismissed flippantly, forcing himself to smile as he said it. "Some people are jealous of my skills." He swallowed up more work than anyone else on his team and kept up with private work, though that was diminishing of late. Word was getting round of how he'd informed to the Ministry.

"… you're an insufferable smart-aleck who can't shut his mouth."
"Someone has to, and you are obviously incapable."
"You disgust me."

Johann swallowed audibly, head still pressed to the other wizard's. He was maintaining a grip on Balfour's hand without realising as his mind more than willingly dredged up memory after memory, a cold feeling spreading across his skin, replacing the warmth that had been there a moment ago. It was exactly times like that this that he wished he was an idiot with a short memory. He'd forget all of this, no wonder Prideaux's lackeys had no conscience.

"You need to read the instructions on stuff you nick from the hospital, Jo. You could've died…"

"I've made some poor decisions over the past year, Balfour. Merlin, I mean, it's a long story, but at the turn of the year I was engaged to a witch." The tone of his voice as he brought it up ridiculed himself. Balfour was well aware of Johann's inexperience, so might be able to put two and two together in outline. "Ended up in St Mungo's for a week last year, and almost lost my job last month."

"You have proved this year you are incapable of handling your own affairs…"
"… you should be an expert on these dogs!"
"You are no son of mine!"

Johann leaned his head a little more against Balfour's and closed his eyes, feeling them prickle.
"It's all behind now, doesn't matter. They can say what they want." He raised his head, opening his eyes, looking to Balfour closely, he explained, those there was a strange crack in his voice. "You are a wise decision." His lips curled into a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

Keen to distract his increasingly noisy mind, he asked a question of his own, sliding one of his legs between Balfour's to bring their lower bodies closer, letting go of Balfour's hand to reach it around the other man's waist, before finding a spot just at Balfour's tail bone.
"Last night, you were at Le Masque alone?" Johann asked, his own curiosity had been considering it during the day, "What brought you there? Do you prefer to be alone?"

He didn't need to make a study of body language to feel the shift in emotions that had taken place by asking the question.

Balfour almost regretted it but he knew that you had to start relationships - and this certainly had the makings of one - on note that encouraged openness of feeling. That he expressed his in action rather than words was a triviality. He kept complete silence as Johann spoke and moved only to reassuringly squeeze the wizard's hand or shift their positions closer.

"I've made some poor decisions over the past year, Balfour. Merlin, I mean, it's a long story, but at the turn of the year I was engaged to a witch." Balfour's eyebrows went up in obvious surprise; he stifled a sound and lost track of hearing for a moment, in trying to imagine how the bloody hell that could have gone down... or how it ended.

His imagination did not provide cheerful scenarios.

It became clearer with every moment that the exhaustion he had seen in Johann when they met wasn't the mere result of a few long and sleepless nights. He released their clasping hands and began tracing his fingers along the inside of Johann's forearm, thoughtful. "You are a wise decision," his bedmate informed.

"Too soon to be saying that, perhaps." Balfour replied in a light voice, though he held Johann's offered gaze with seriousness. "Sounds like you have had quite the year. And if you think it's all behind you, and it doesn't matter, I won't bring it up unless you want to." He hoped that he wouldn't ever regret making that promise.

The past was best left in the past but it made an annoying habit of affecting their futures.

Any serious contemplation of the subject was suddenly pushed to the back of his mind, as he felt a hand slide across the small of his back - bringing them in better proximity. Balfour bent his leg, locking their positions together while he inclined closer, breaths intermingling. Questions. Why even answer questions when there were better things to do...

"I don't typically drink by myself. It's an occasional pleasure," he murmured and slipped his other hand down along Johann's chest, encasing the side of his ribs. "But I needed not to think. Dragon epidemic, office politics."

It was no big secret that Balfour was only now coming in on his first year anniversary of being division head. Nobody envied the position under these circumstances, even if they praised his handling of it. He lowered his eyes in a collected expression and avoided Johann's eyes for a moment. The epidemic was common talk on the fourth floor. Discussing it outside of that felt oddly painful.

"I once wandered a Russian reservation alone for a whole month because I didn't want to think. Le Masque seemed a simpler solution. It certainly yielded a better resu--"

Wh-roof!

Balfour laughed, closing his eyes in realisation. "Fuck. Forgot about Whiskey bei--" Wh-rooof! Before either wizard could move, the bed shook with the substantial weight of another creature leaping on to its ledge, somewhere behind him. The Black German Shepherd stood on all fours as it stared down at them with friendly, inky eyes.

"Too soon to be saying that, perhaps." Balfour replied and Johann gave a soft 'heh' in agreement. It felt like the wise decision at the moment, and he wouldn't change it.

He was thankful that Balfour would let it slide easily. It felt better for outlining it - it had all been at the forefront of his mind lately, mentally kicking himself. But Balfour was right, it didn't matter. Living in the present was.

Balfour seemed equally uncomfortable to disclose why he was drinking alone, but Johann felt lucky that it had been the case the previous evening. A seer might suggest fate, he rather more believed in luck and coincidence. He watched Balfour gently, fingers extending across the other wizard's back, enjoying the warmth, the pressure of their bodies against each other, and the scent.

Wandering a Russian reservation alone for a month sounded rather curious indeed, but Johann could very much empathise with not wanting to think. He was about to agree such when the canine interruption came. Johann had forgotten about the menagerie in the flat beyond that bedroom. The woof made him tense, not through fear, but because it was an alien noise.

Balfour laughed, and the bed sank on the far side, a big hairy body appearing behind it's master.
"Oh, hello," Johann greeted, looking past Balfour to the dog, "You're quite the beast, like your master."

Whiskey was certainly a bigger dog than Colin's dog Moxie, who Johann had lived with for months, and walked for Colin when he wasn't around, and bigger still than Addie's Marmalade. He loomed over them both, and Johann lifted his hand from Balfour's back and reached out, allowing the dog to sniff suspiciously of his hand before receiving a friendly scratch to the head.

"Did you say Whiskey?" Johann asked Balfour, still scratching the dog's head, reaching over the other wizard, "What whiskey were you drinking that was that dark?" He asked, a grin crossing his features. 

It was easy to take his roommates for granted. Beyond here, in the living room, he knew for a fact that three calico cats were beginning to wonder where their dinner was at - and the jellyfish that floated across the ceilings (always an extra one whenever he counted) would only provide them with distraction for a while longer.

Balfour twisted around to watch his dog acquiesce to this new acquaintance, uncertain of whose attention he was jealous for. The grin in Johann's voice was more heard than seen.

"My goddaughter named him," he replied and slowly sat up - regretfully disentangled from the other man - to gently butt heads with Whiskey. "We didn't know which of the litter I was receiving. He was a runt, you know. Could barely fetch."

As if he'd understood this accusation, the German Shepherd made a whimpering noise. Another person might have been taken in. This didn't fool Balfour.  The wizard gave him a look: not quite stern but patently one of command. Whiskey made another sound and then obediently laid down on the bed, dropping his dark head to peer up.

"Good boy." Balfour intoned before evenly continuing their exchange, settling on his back instead. One of his legs was still caught around Johann's. "If you think I'm a beast, you really ought to meet our dragons. The best of them gave me this-" he ran his fingers across his chest, where once a great claw had dragged diagonally. It was the same wound that last year landed him in St.Mungo's and (by extension) his position. "- but she's improved in character since."

His hand slid away from the scar and returned to the smoother, ink-stained digits of his companion. "Listen to me talk shop," Balfour smiled at the ceiling. A pair of pastel pink jellyfish drifted indifferently against white crowning. "You would think I didn't have anything else on my mind."

Manifestly untrue, taking into account their afternoon.

"My goddaughter named him, we didn't know which of the litter I was receiving. He was a runt, you know. Could barely fetch."

This information was filed away in Johann's head as he nodded. Much as he rued the fact Balfour had untangled their limbs to interact with the hound, and Johann's hand retreated.

Clearly Balfour was loved and respected if he'd been given the title of godfather to someone. Johann couldn't imagine being asked to be such a thing, though he'd probably take it seriously. He mentored interns instead, which felt much the same.

It was harder to imagine this enormous dog being a runt. The size of the others now, they must be like bears!

Whiskey settled, and he and Johann observed each other placidly. It was probably time they left Balfour's bed soon, save wasting all of Friday.

"If you think I'm a beast, you really ought to meet our dragons. The best of them gave me this, but she's improved in character since." Balfour ran his hand over a diagonal scar that Johann hadn't really stopped to dwell on earlier, but anticipated a good story behind. His hand flinched to follow Balfour's fingers across it, curious as to exactly how it felt, and whether it hurt at all, so he should avoid it.

Though his hand lifted to do so, Balfour's caught it before it got very far, Johann gave a guilty look for just a moment, thinking he had been purposely intercepted.

"Listen to me talk shop, you would think I didn't have anything else on my mind." Johann chuckled faintly, lacing his finger's with Balfour's once again.
"It's alright, and it's not shop to me, live dragons is infinitely more interesting than disputes over the trade price of their toenails. Honestly, you could talk to me about toenails, but I might have to interrupt you." He leaned over and delivered an illustration of such an interruption by kissing Balfour.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, not able to stop himself. "Any of them? I told you, you had bigger balls. Best I've done is fly near some in Wales - by arrangement with Ghastly for the Salem Creatures Professor last year. And when I say fly..." He made a face, he didn't do brooms. "This one looks like you should have been in two pieces, I mean?" His bright blue eyes were now keenly examining Balfour's chest from above. 

"Does it hurt?"

For an instant, he thought that Johann had meant the kiss. Balfour looked up at this question through half-lidded eyes and couldn't help but smile faintly at the mention of Ghastly. Did he know they had been something of a couple? That was years ago now and it didn't seem necessary to bring it up. She was a mother now, gods.

"You go into shock before you realise how much it hurts," he tried not to think about how he had become one of those dragon tamers, rambling about his scars. Fournier would laugh. "And even afterwards it's the messy business of staying alive. I passed out after I was out of harm's way, with this one."

His jaw went taut with the memory of it now and he pressed his fingers into Johann's knuckles, kneading thoughtfully. The Dragonologists were trained to take a beating - they knew how to tense their bodies for an unavoidable injury, how to protect their heads in a high fall.

Nobody discussed the pain beyond complaining about it. Laying next to Johann in the gentle light of his bedroom, that seemed like an oddly detrimental, machismo tendency. A thought for another time.

"Are you familiar with Bai, then? She's dating an old frie--"

A mournful set of meowing in the living room cut him off and Balfour snorted. Whiskey's ears pricked up. "I don't think there's any helping this. We'd better see to the Fates-" he began to get up, offering Johann a fleeting kiss in the process. "- Lachesis scratches the furniture if she doesn't have her dinner."  Although, if he were being honest, he barely knew how to tell apart the three cats. They were fickle like that.

Balfour nudged the German Shepherd off the bed while he got to his feet, stretching. Every vertebrae along his spine seemed to feel it - a chain of subtle cracking sounds. "Do you feel like eating out?" he looked around for a moment before finally spotting his dressing robe, a dark green affair speckled by cat fur. "Or we could take in. My landlord orders from this fantastic place around the corner, if you fancy ribs."

Balfour's account of the scar changed Johann's expression to one of alarm and amazement. Balfour, Margo, Ghastly and the rest of them were on par with aurors for the bravest people he knew.

Funny the way the body tensed from memories too - Johann thought as he glanced from their hands together to Balfour's face as there was tension. He would always look for it in observation, but to feel it beneath his own fingers added a new level of study.

Balfour began to ask about Bai when there was further animal interruption, and Johann let out the smallest of sighs as Balfour explained he better get up, but did appreciate the little kiss in apology. With bump on the floor, off jumped Whiskey, and out of bed rolled Balfour. Johann had no shame in watching Balfour stretch, admiring the other man's backside as he walked around the edge of the bed. Johann scratched the back of his head and sat up in bed, contemplating the clothing situation as he listened to Balfour.

"Do you feel like eating out? Or we could take in. My landlord orders from this fantastic place around the corner, if you fancy ribs." Johann's stomach rumbled, a victory cry that his mind had remembered it existed. Had he eaten today? He paused to consider this for a second before replying.
"Uh, food's good," he replied, a little incoherently and. "I may not be dressed for the former. Should have gone back to fetch my bag, something distracted me. Can't remember the last time I had ribs."

There was another meow from within the flat.
"Your audience awaits." Johann joked, tilting his head towards the sound. His pale feet emerged from beneath the sheets, and the rest of him followed. one of the blue sheets coming with him, the tie coming with it until Johann tossed it aside to where his suit from the day had ended up before they'd fallen into bed. He presumed that was where his wand had ended up.

His bare feet trailed Balfour and Whiskey through the flat, taking a proper look around himself. Last night, he'd not really been concentrating on where he was, and in the morning he'd been in a rush to make it to the office after sleeping in and waking up in an unfamiliar place.

He paused to stare at the jellyfish, mouth ajar, pausing mid stride. His lips formed a silent ok before he pulled the sheet up and around his shoulders a bit better, if only for modesty before so many animal eyes.

Without thinking anything of it, Johann navigated his way into Balfour's kitchen, a place he had encountered first thing that morning - the coffee scent had led the way, and he'd found a note propped beside it. Nice touch, and had certainly solved the nagging doubt that he'd hallucinated the previous night.

Seconds later he watched Balfour attend to the cats, staying out of the way, a glass of water in one hand, no search required. He had an uncanny knack of finding what he wanted in a stranger's kitchen, and no shame in making use of it. At Hannah's, he was more likely to make tea or coffee than she was.

"Three cats, dog…. jellyfish?" Johann listed, "Anything else lurking in here that I shouldn't accidentally let out the front door and annoy your landlord with? Wouldn't want to irritate him on my second visit." The lanky, dark haired wizard looked up and squinted at the jellyfish once more. "How exactly do they do that? I thought they were meant to be underwater?" This flat was full of queer things, not least the wizards.

The Fates were ambling along the kitchen counter when he finally got to the kitchen and Balfour had to tap his wand against the marble for them to scurry off towards their bowls. He entertained guests frequently enough to be comfortable with them wandering the flat but Johann seemed to have the blissful ability of remaining in the same space without getting in anyone's way - pets included.

Clotho trickily circled his ankles as he charmed their respective foods (Atropos abhorred anything the other two enjoyed) and set the sink running to soak dishes that hadn't been attended to in the last week. Although he kept a fairly tidy flat, things had the habit of building up on work days.

"Her." Balfour corrected the other man as he slid open one of the drawers and considered the mess of takeout flyers. "Ira doesn't particularly mind them getting out, it gives her huskies something to do when they're bored." Thai, Thai, Italian... ah. He drew out the rib shack menu from underneath a misplaced grooming brush. "I have six newts as well, they don't typically show themselves."

All the newts were named after mythical dragons, another one of Alex's ideas. He smiled at that memory and grabbed the kitchen's corded phone before dropping into one of the chairs at the breakfast table. The rib shack took phone calls, which was rather progressive of them, except that sometimes they took a while to answer because the ringing didn't have an immediate reaction on its staff.

"Not entirely sure-" he glanced at the four jellyfish drifting across the kitchen ceiling in a peaceful, sedate manner. "- I was dating a witch from level nine when I first moved in and she seemed to think they were an appropriate parting gift. It's to do with the ceiling. If you throw something up ther-- hello, I'd like to place an order for delivery please."

A gruff, American voice was speaking on the other end. Balfour repeated their order in a slow voice and picked up a stray pencil on the table. Ribs, corn on the cob, sweet mash. His eyes stayed on Johann - draped in sheets and looking illicitly fuckable. He indicated the pencil and tossed it up into the air, where it nearly hit the ceiling and then.... simply remained there, floating.

"Yes. Thank you." It was to his relief that none of those thoughts had made it into the order. Why yes I'd like two servings of sweet mash and one highly desirable wizard please. No, no dressing required. Balfour put the phone down. "Food sorted, then. That colour looks good on you."

At Balfour's correction of the gender of his landlord, Johann's eyebrows rose as he sipped water, accepting the correction. He had made an assumption.

"Ira doesn't particularly mind them getting out…" He choked on the water slightly, but not enough to draw attention away from the menus. Johann hastily wiped his chin. He knew an Ira, she and Vedir co-operated, and Johann had been referred on to her for a bit of work in the past. He'd aided them both with their various unusual or shady dealings, making it all appear above board. If anything, he could do with a bit more work from her. But either way, he hadn't expected Ira to be Balfour's landlord - if it was the same one, after all.

He paused to watch Balfour and the pencil, trying to put aside the nagging thought that the other wizard had been there, done pretty much everything with relationships. He felt somewhat uneducated in such areas, and hoped it didn't detract from what had gone on the past twenty-four hours. He watched the pencil a while longer, contemplating possible reasons for it, but he had not studied creatures thoroughly in his lifetime.

"… sorted then. That colour looks good on you."
"Hm?" Johann replied, not realising that as he'd bee staring up at the ceiling, glass of water in one hand, that his grip on the blue sheet had loosened, and it had slid off one pale shoulder.
"Thanks," he replied, sounding at first as if this was going to be an oblivious reply, "I think I look better on it…"



Ribs needed to take longer to cook. Despite the fact Balfour was trying to save face to the caller at the door after dashing there, Johann couldn't help but laugh at the situation. He was increasingly sure his worries about his novice status were becoming redundant.

As the door shut, Johann looked round the doorframe into the hallway and gave one of his brightest grins.
"I think you're blushing." He teased, "Your front door did cover your modesty at least."

The food smelled better than Johann had imagined, and his stomach gave a genuine and rather audible rumble as he tied the sheet around his waist this time, dusting off his knees.
"Pity they weren't ten minutes later, I was definitely getting somewhere." He gave a cocky smile and pulled at his bottom lip with thumb and forefinger.



There was no real tidy way to eat ribs, or corn on the cob. It was also a bit of a hindrance to successful conversation, keeping mouths and fingers busy with something different for a while. It didn't keep Johann's eyes from stealing looks at Balfour, and the odd look up at the pencil floating above them, still pondering on whether it was charms or some change in the atmosphere up there that the jellyfish created. It was going to bother his subconscious a while.

He sucked sticky rib sauce off his thumb, rubbing surreptitiously at his teeth to try and make sure he wasn't attractively sporting anything between them before he spoke.
"Must thank Ira for her recommendation if I see her." Curiosity getting the better of him he added, "Sure I know an Ira…." He added aside looking over the remaining food, contemplating how hungry he felt,
"You lived here long?"

Reflecting on the conversation later, Johann thought he would have been better to assure Balfour he could be scintillating conversation, but had become rather preoccupied with a new research subject.

"I used to have a place, smaller than this, but past couple of years since coming over to Britain I've not felt like finding my own space." He raised his eyebrows, reaching for another rib. "Even if I've woken up to a house elf wielding a frying pan over my head, and more than one with a dog licking my face. Heh, that's probably a regular occurrence for you." He looked round to where Whiskey was with a crooked smile.