This had seemed like a good plan, when Fergie had initially thought of it. Like it was necessary, even. Why wait until tomorrow to see Sasha when he could see him tonight? The thought of waiting even twelve more hours was making him crazy. So he'd spruced himself up after dinner and now he was here, standing on Sasha's doorstep.

Only one problem - nerves. He hadn't seen Sasha in almost two months. Do you have any idea how much stuff could happen in two months? A lot. What if Sasha had changed his mind? His letters hadn't indicated any such change of heart. Quite the opposite, actually, but he hadn't seen Fergie. What if when he saw him he was suddenly like 'Oh. I liked you? Why did I do that?' And, yes, maybe Fergie was being ridiculous, but it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.

And then there was just the regular worries to sort through. Did Fergie look okay? He was overdressed, he knew. He always overdressed when he was nervous. Would Sasha think it was rude for him to drop by unexpectedly? What if Sasha had already gone to bed? (Okay. That part, he wasn't really worried about - Sasha didn't sleep much.) What if... Okay. He had to just... stop. Stop thinking about it, and see Sasha. That was the only way the knots in his stomach would untangle.

Fergie took a deep breath that did nothing at all to calm him, and bounced on his heels before reaching out and rapping on the door. Now it was officially too late to turn into a coward and run away.

Fergie's guess had been correct.  Sasha definitely hadn't gone to bed, yet and he normally wouldn't for a couple hours, yet.  He'd settled himself on the couch in the den with his laptop and was putting his finishing touches on his lab report.  Once that was completed and submitted, he'd have no other academic obligations during the week of spring break.  He'd be free to do ... well, other things.  With other people.  Especially with one person in particular.

The television was on for some background noise.  Sasha had, for the most part, settled back into being in the house, again, though it was still felt far too cavernous and empty when it was just him in the house.  Wilhelm was still out for the evening. 

Baldur had noticed the guest's arrival first.  He hopped down from his spot on the couch next to Sasha and led the way down to the front door, sniffing twice at the door jam before wagging his tail enthusiastically.  Confident that meant the person beyond the door wasn't there on unfriendly terms, Sasha tugged the door open without hesitation. 

A broad, shy grin spread across Sasha's face as he looked at Fergie standing on his doorstep.  He hesitated for just a moment, unsure what one was supposed to do in this kind of situation.  "Allo," he offered, feeling it strangely more difficult than usual to remain proper and reserved.  He hesitated for just a few more breaths but, finally, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Fergie, pulling him into a hug. 

As soon as the door opened, Fergie's face turned a vibrant shade of red. That was usually Sasha's job, the whole blushing thing, but tonight apparently Ferguson had taken over. His heart was pounding in his ears and he took another deep breath. Nope. Still not calming.

"Hi." His voice came out in an embarrassing squeak, and he winced. Sasha looked... real. And shy. And great. And comfortable. And Fergie just felt really, really dumb for wearing a stupid tie. He knew he should have gone with jeans and a t-shirt, he knew it...

But then Sasha was pulling him into a hug and the tension in Fergie's shoulders just disappeared. He exhaled in a drawn out sigh and wrapped his arms around Sasha, leaning against the taller boy with a smile tugging at his lips. So things hadn't changed after all. That was good to know. "I couldn't wait till tomorrow. I had to see you tonight. Sorry."

Hugs in the Schlagenweit world were usually formal, dignified and brief.  They usually came and went, amounting to something just slightly more involved or lengthy than a handshake.  That point in time came and went.  And, then again.  And a third time but, still, Sasha held Fergie to him.  He heard Fergie's apology and explanation but found both entirely unnecessary. 

Yet again, like before, Sasha's extended absence from school felt like it had been accompanied with another complete upheaval of his life.  He'd been forced from school, removed from Dreogan's home, structured what felt like a whole new life back home (complete with a fresh set of scars - Sasha still had to explain that, somehow.  He'd decided that in a letter wasn't the best method).  But, just as much as before, Fergie was and seemed to remain a predictable and reliable constant.  Sasha wasn't sure of Fergie really know how much that, on top of everything else, meant to him. 

After a space of time that could have easily accommodated forty typical Schlagenweit hugs, Sasha pressed an awkward kiss to Fergie's cheek before pulling back.  "I'm glad you came," Sasha insisted, belatedly.  And, probably, unnecessarily at this point.  "I ... um ... you want to come in?"  He stepped back, out of the way, only then becoming more aware of Fergie's attire and his far less ... street worthy ... dress.  It was his turn to blush as he glanced down at his old uniform and sweatpants.  He was taken with a sudden urge to change.  "I ... um.  One second," he offered, turning towards the stairs.  Then, realizing he couldn't just leave Fergie standing in the foyer, he turned back, offering an awkward grin. 

He kind of didn't want to let Sasha go, like, ever. It had been almost two months since he'd seen the other boy. That was two months he'd missed out on hugs and kisses and smiles and, you know, letters were nice. But they just weren't the same. Holding onto Sasha, it just... it fit. He felt home now in a way he hadn't just a little while ago, in his own house.

"Um. Yeah." Fergie let out this awkward, breathless half-laugh. Not really because anything was funny - more like his brain just didn't know what to do with how happy he was to see Sasha again, to be close to him, and this was just the only outlet it could think of. "I didn't come over to stand on your doorstep," he pointed out as he followed Sasha inside, still blushing and grinning like a buffoon.

He actually felt this weird stab of panic as Sasha turned towards the stairs, like if he let the other boy out of his sight for even a second he would disappear into thin air. And then Fergie would wake up, stuck back in his bed in the Slytherin dorms, and Sasha would be miles and miles and miles away. He knew he wasn't dreaming, of course, it was just... "Would it sound really, really dorky if I admitted I'm not ready to let you out of my sight yet?" He asked, sheepishly, ducking his head and looking up at Sasha through his eyelashes.

"I ... well.  I could get you a chair."  Humor had never been Sasha's strong suit.  He'd never been good at it and, most of the time, he didn't bother trying.  Why he'd decided now was the best time to give it a shot, he didn't know. 

Sasha stopped and stared a moment at Fergie, shaking his head slightly.  "No," he admitted.  It didn't sound dorky at all.  Or, perhaps, to someone else it might have.  He offered an apologetic grimace, shaking his head.  "I'm sorry," he offered.  He'd, of course, already apologized in letters but this, now, in person seemed all the more prudent.  "I didn't want to go.  I ... but," he glanced awkwardly down at his sweatpants again.  A grin flickered across his face as he shrugged.  "But, I feel like I should be changing," he admitted.  "I feel like Cinderella."  A slight blush.  "Wait.  No.  Not really.  I mean.  Just ... nevermind." 

Fergie wasn't sure if Sasha was apologizing for leaving school, or thinking about leaving the room. All in all, it didn't really seem to matter much. The first one wasn't Sasha's fault, and the second one - well he hadn't left. He was still standing there, being Sasha. He didn't think he'd quite realized just how much he'd missed watching Sasha blush and stammer until right that second.

"Shh," he laughed, reaching out with a hand to tangle their fingers together and pull the other boy closer again. "You look comfy. I like it. I'm the one who seems out of place." He wrinkled his nose and gave his tie a slight tug. "I'm way overdressed. But it doesn't matter," he added, swinging their hands. "I'm just glad I get to be around you again. Come on, show me around."

He'd never been in Sasha's house before - just the barn. And it should have been weird, knowing what had happened here. But Fergie was focusing on not thinking about that, and finding it surprisingly easy for now. This was probably due to the fact that most of his brain power was taken up by wondering what the rule was on the amount of time you were supposed to wait between being invited inside and tackling someone in a kiss.

Whatever worrying or fussing about clothing his mind might have been wrapped up in screeched to a stop when Fergie reached for Sasha's hand.  His eyes dropped to watch their fingers as Fergie's hand closed on his own, his heart giving a nervous and excited flutter in his chest.  They'd only been officially dating for a month when Sasha had been sent home - and their relationship had only been public for less than twenty-four hours.  Even two months ago, their interactions still had been so new, such uncharted territory that his own reactions still took him by surprise. 

They'd, officially, been separated twice as long as they'd been together. 

He grinned, shaking his head as Fergie tugged at the tie.  "I like it," he admitted, reaching out and tugging it straight, himself.  "It's cute.  You're cute in it." 

Fergie turned his attention to the house and Sasha, again, realized they hadn't made it much further than the foyer.  Baldur, he noticed, had started up the stairs when Sasha had but was now flopped on one of the stairs, clearly bored by waiting for them to finish their hellos.  "I ... well, this is the entrance.  Obviously."  He led the way through the dining room to the solar (which was usually less impressive at night) and, finally, to the kitchen - a room he rarely went in back when his whole family was here.  "The ground floor's mostly for entertaining and for visitors and such.  Our housekeeper lives- used to live in the back.  Now, Wilhelm's staying there when he's not out in his apartment."  Which was most of the time. 

That, essentially, left the whole middle floor unoccupied except when one of them (usually Sasha since both the solar and Wilhelm's room had TVs) used the den.  "There's a wine and root cellar below us that looks pretty typical."  He assumed.  He started leading the way to the back stairs up to the first floor.  "First floor's mostly, you know, family ... space.  Bedrooms, living room, den.  Second floor's mostly my area," he offered as he started to climb the stairs.  He could still hear the television in the den. 

It's cute. You're cute in it.

As if the compliment wasn't enough, Sasha had to take it one step farther and straighten Fergie's tie. Ferguson blushed and ducked his head, grinning wide and feeling like there was just the slightest possibility that he might swoon. "Thanks," he said, giving Sasha's hand a slight squeeze. "Did you get better at flirting while you were away?" He teased, raising his eyebrows. "Because that was oddly smooth."

Not that he was complaining. At all.

Fergie had been in a lot of large, impressive homes. It was kind of how purebloods rolled, you know? But this was his first time ever stepping foot in any muggle home, and he sort of wanted to poke everything, just to see how it was different. He'd learned at an early age, however, that poking random objects in other people's homes was a good way to get yourself in trouble and to possibly break (and therefore have to replace) valuable items. So he refrained, following attentively along behind Sasha and looking everything over curiously, trying not to overwhelm the other boy with a million questions about muggle technology - which made absolutely no sense, at least not to Fergie.

As they made their way up the stairs, Fergie's ears picked up the sound of seemingly random noises - voices and sound effects with music playing the background. "Is that the wireless?" He wanted to know, although usually there was only one thing at a time on the radio. Dialog or music. Not usually both. Fergie jumped as the sound of an explosion came from the same direction as the rest of the noises, and quickly moved closer to Sasha, clutching his hand tightly. "What is that??"

"I ... what?"  Sasha glanced, startled, at Fergie just as the color rushed to his cheeks.  Him?  Smooth?  The notion seemed strangely foreign.  Though not necessarily in a bad way.  And, likely, he probably wouldn't have even noticed if it hadn't been pointed out. 

Then, of course, there was the whole surreal feeling of flirting openly with another boy (wizard) in his parents house.  Of course, he knew logically that no one was home and there was no one else to be home but it still seemed ... strange.  But, he was trying very hard to ignore that part of things.  Doing so was proving much easier than he would have imagined, thanks to the distraction at hand.

"Well, I ... um."  He wasn't sure if the question had actually begged an answer.  He hoped not. He really didn't have one to offer. 

Sasha tried his best to explain all the novel muggle things to Fergie without over-explaining them.  Somethings were easy - like the toaster.  Toasting bread with a toaster wasn't that dissimilar from toasting bread over a fire.  It's just that the fire was inside the toaster.  Somethings were more difficult to explain.  Like the microwave which required detailed explanations of light waves which caused water molecules to move faster thereby making things hotter.  An explanation Sasha had started to offer but quickly abandoned with a more vague explanation of 'it makes things hot quickly.' 

"No.  It's ... muggles don't usually have wirelesses."  Sasha grinned, slightly, as Fergie jumped before nodding his head towards the hallway.  "It's the ... well, it's a television.  It's kind of like a wireless."  In the way that a 10-piece jigsaw puzzle was like a playstation 3.  "Here, it's...easier to show than explain."  Trying to explain a television might actually be worse than explaining the microwave. 

Gently tugging at Fergie's hand, Sasha led the way down the hall and guided him to the media room.  "It's kind of..."  Sasha gestured towards the television[1] before reaching for the remote.  One could get very philosophical about describing the role of television in the lives of muggles.  "It's entertainment.  And, other stuff, I guess." 

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