Beers under the [M]oonlight | Hamish & Allen

[Allen Cooper]

you know that I fought with many and I won for some we stared at ourselves 'til our breaking point we wear our bruises like watermarks the life and the death of the wild at heart

There was much to be thankful for in Allen's thirty-one years on life. At the top of the list was his little first-year daughter, Keily, and how she was doing so well. There was his supportive family in London and their unending help when he needed it. He was thankful it was Friday night, and Keily was under the watchful eyes and protective walls of Hogwarts so that he could take a night for himself--     As he was now, nursing a beer in one of the many pubs in Hogsmeade-- A haven for students in the daylight hours and an escape for professors at night. And as the moon burned brightly in the cool night sky, Allen kicked back his third beer-- or was it his fourth? He didn't have a match to ref this weekend, so he knew he could indulge himself-- he could sweat the hangover out tomorrow on the pitch.     Pushing himself to stand, Australia slammed down his Scottish branded beer and called out a loud accented, "ANOTHER!" before tilting back to bump into another form. Jeweled greens, hazed by the booze and his jovial nature, flicked to gaze upon the offender to offer a gruff, "Oi mate, watch it."     Eyes met not a face, but the shoulders of the bloke he bumped, before slowly lifting to behold the taller man that held the position he had applied for-- not that he didn't love the job he currently held. No, he loved what he did and working with children, prepping them for a life beyond the magical barrior they lived in...     But his whole life's work and passions had been Magizoology before this point.     Tilting his head deftly, Allen Cooper let out an accented "Oh's just you, mate." The mate laced with an obvious dose of discontent. "Watch were yer walkin, Hamish. If in I had a beer, I'd've been wearin' it, mate."     It wasn't like Allen to be so grumpy, he had been so happy not ten seconds ago. And it wasn't that he held any discontent for the Scotsman, in fact Allen held a desire to be friends with him-- he saw him as a college on many fronts. Hogwarts, Magizoology, hell tall and clearly drinkers.     Allen held up a hand as if to stop the redhead from any retort-- "That came out wrong, bugger me sideways. You didn't spill yer beer, didja? Can get ya a fuckin' nother if I did, on my tab." he lifted his thumb to point at the bar, and the portly lady behind it that was tending a regular drunkard. He offered a grin that was meant to disarm, to show he was harmless.     He was trying to make a friend, lord knew he was. He needed one.

made by duke of gangnam style

[Hamish Stuart]

Word Count: 460

Tags:

This would be his sixth year of this, having student enter his class with a single goal, adding the O.W.L. to their list of accomplishments as though his profession was nothing more than an easy pass. It seemed the class would always have the divide, enthusiasm and apathy. Friday had not graced his presence soon enough, a headache had been pounding against his skull for the last hour. Misery would come to an end as his shoes began to click against the stone of Hogsmeade.

Far too often someone made an attempt to involve him in Arthur’s misdeeds; it simply added to his exhaustion. Had Arthur been his son he would not have scolded the boy for answering others with aggression, words were simply that. Words. Students were far too soft. Had anyone known of his blood he would have heard the word mudblood from the moment he woke to the moment he collapsed in bed. It all served to worsen his mood.

Tonight seemed to be particularly stressed, gaining a single drink seemed to be based on luck and some sort of magic that Hamish had failed to master. Searching for the corner that had yet to be filled someone collided with the ginger. Beer sloshed over his fingers darkening the fabric of his blouse. Had he been scowling before? If not his face twisted as he bet the jeweled eyes on another faculty member. Voices echoing managed to disguise the growl of warning coming from the towering male.

Many of the newer faculty had yet to hear Hamish speak but there always seemed to be reason behind that. Behind his hair trigger temper there was a hint of embarrassment at his less than proper speaking habits.
As if he had not heard Allen attempting to correct the sharp tone formerly used his sharp green eyes drifted to the drink resting in his grip. Half remained in the glass but half would be plenty enough. Not giving the chance for the brunette to finish the drink was poured over the male’s head.

“A dinnae ken does that look spilt tae ye?” Leaning forward the ginger left little room between them as he attempted to crowd Allen against the bar. Alcohol had yet to meet his lips, perhaps that only aided in the fueling of the fire that ignited Hamish’s temper. Raising his lip the faculty member resembled a beast more than a wizard or even a muggle.

The volume of the bar seemed to make all blind to the situation as Hamish continued to growl his lips nearing Allen’s ear with his leaning. With their close proximity there was a soft clicking that could be heard as Hamish rhythmically tapped the metal ring against his teeth.

template made by MISSO for use only by DEE

[Allen Cooper]

you know that I fought with many and I won for some we stared at ourselves 'til our breaking point we wear our bruises like watermarks the life and the death of the wild at heart

There was a moment, a long moment, where Allen just stood in shock as ice cold beer rushed down his hair-- causing his breath to leave him as the cold hit his scalp. The hoppy beer continued down onto his leather jacket in foamy streams, leaving the expensive jacket ruined in its wake. There was a slow blink, before his eyes went from wide to narrow, a slow transition between the states as the man spoke in his heavy accent. While Allen didn’t quite understand the man’s words, he sure as shit didn't need a translator to understand the scottish basically telling him 'fuck you'. Well then.     "Look here, y'Fucktrumpet. I was tryin' to apologise ta you." He hissed out as the man pushed close to his person-- He had taken on creatures twice the size of this man and walked away unfazed, was he really going to press this? "But no, you had to be an arsedonkey Wanker. Fucker, y' own me a new jacket. Leather and booze don't mix, y'know."     Apparently, based on the sounds the man was making, be was looking for a fist to kiss his face. Yet, there was no way he would yield, no way this blue wasn't gonna happen. Allen swore by it.     Fingers would shift upwards to quickly coil about his fellow professor's collar to push him back from his form, his own beer lifting from the polished mahogany, freshly poured with the head still frothy, and toss it into the offender's face--     Which was quickly followed by the glass pint meeting the scotsman's cheek, and shattering in a million pieces upon impact, followed quickly with his knuckles cracking against glass and flesh. The handle was quickly discarded, and the Aussie ran the thumb of the hand that had been holding the scotsman’s shirt under his nose as his grin twisted upward into shit eating. It had been a long... long time since he had a good pub brawl, and the idea of nursing a shiner or five was exactly how he wanted to break in this year.     "If'n Y’ wanna go, y’ faefucker, we can go." He poured out like he would purr to a lover, his head tilting upward a bit as his verdant orbs glittered with excitement. His left foot shifted back, his bloody hand moving to press to the bar stool he had been sitting at as he watched the Scotsman recover from his double blow.     Keily could scold him later, like he knew she would. Daddy has to teach someone some damn manners. Whatever pissed in this blokes cheerios, he was gonna make sure he was put in his place, no matter how many punches and bruises it took.

made by duke of gangnam style

[Hamish Stuart]

Word Count: 563

Tags:

Foam clung to the now drenched locks of the fellow professor, had anyone not seen the act the results spoke enough to deduce what had occurred. Allen seemed fortunate dressed in leather causing the amber colored liquid to run down the animal skin preventing much of it from soaking into the fabric of his blouse. Actions spoke volumes above words, gifted a thick accent had made Hamish painfully aware had Hamish desired to make a point, no matter the level of simplicity, actions would convey his feels that often were swallowed in the passion fueled flame of his life. For the time Hamish had been among the faculty few invaded his territory once he had presented them with the wall that surrounded him. His personality gave them little reason to jump the firm wall.

“Ye wur trying 'n' ye failed miserably as it wid seem yer sawry held as muckle worth as they years spent studying.” Anger coursing through his veins, Hamish would allow himself to make claims that he would regret had he not drank away the memory before come morning. There were no reason to look down his nose at the chosen profession of his colleagues. “Listen you miserable cunt, if I owe you anything it will be righting that ugly mug before it hexes us all with a blinding curse.”

Not even closing his eyes the piercing gaze seemed to cut through Allen even with the liquid coating his red locks causing them to cling to his flesh in clumps. Shocking cold met an uncaring face but teeth were forced to grit as the glass shattered against his flesh causing abrasions that only were worsened by a fist forcing the glass further into his jaw. Had his collar still been held in the grasp of the foolish male he might have been able to force the other to be drawn toward him in his stumble. A single punch was not enough to keep his lips stitched and had Allen been foolish enough to believe a fight could be settled with such simplicity he had been far denser than Hamish might expect.
Licking blood that has bloomed from one of the glass caused abrasions he seemed to be unaffected by the purr. Having defended himself against hands of others for much of his life Hamish knew better than to admit to a sense of weakness. Submission was saved for a bit more intimate department of his life.

Dropping his sneer his face had a look of regret, an apology might as well been on his lips. Stepping forward he opened his mouth as if to speak only to swipe at Allen’s legs kicking the bar stool as well. The wooden object would be welcome to grace the floor if that is what necessary for Hamish to bring the smaller male down. Already his body had lunged forward, had Allen been able to right his footing he would find himself slammed into the bar but it seemed more likely he would kiss the wood with Hamish atop of him. Lanky fingers twisted into chocolate colored locks as he attempted to control the movement and guide the other’s head into the wood repeatedly.

Each bruise would be worth it, Allen reeked of the same stench so many during his youth. The arrogance and ego that seemed to be on par of many pureblood.

template made by MISSO for use only by DEE