This won't make sense if you haven't read "Wizard Love," so be sure to start there!
Title adapted from "We Let a Gryffindor in the Band" by The Parselmouths
Some parts of the texts don't display correctly on FFN, so for the proper version, I'd recommend reading this on AO3, where it's posted under the same title and username. (/works/30722561)
"Ugh, I'm still pissed," Luke groans as he throws himself into the chair next to Julie.
It's how he's announcing his presence in the break area, clearly picking up a previous conversation, but Julie has no idea what the context for his irritation is. She shoots her boyfriend a baffled look, but his eyes are trained on Alex and Reggie across the table, even as he leans over to pop a kiss on her temple. Julie glances at Willie, whose eyebrows shuffle into a mildly puzzled expression before his eyes tick to her. He must read the confusion on her face, because the corner of his mouth twists up in a wry smile.
Oh. So this is a Sunset Curve thing.
It's not that Julie needs to be included in every single conversation. She gets that the boys live together, that she only spends some nights at the house, that the new band doesn't rehearse as often as they'd like because either Julie or her keyboard are in Eagle Rock. The guys have been friends for decades, a band for years, even a work family for half a year before she showed up. It's healthy that she's not included in every part of Luke's life, and of course she doesn't know every detail of his closest family.
... but sometimes it stings, these stark reminders that the Sunset Curve unit will always be older and more established than Julie and the Phantoms. That, even though the new band has existed and flourished for six months now, Julie will always be the optional add-on that's easily removed. That there's always a complete band and family without her. That she'll always be outside the jokes and bonds that the boys share.
Based on the crestfallen looks the boys are currently exchanging, that might be a good thing right now. But still. Even if they're hurting, she wants to be part of it.
"It'll be fine, right?" Reggie asks. He darts his eyes at Alex and forces his shoulders down into a more relaxed position, the way he does when he's trying to downplay his own nervousness so he doesn't exacerbate Alex's stress.
But the squeakiness in Reggie's voice gives him away. Alex groans out, "Just say it. We're doomed."
"We're not doomed," Luke insists, though Julie can feel the tension in his body from where his side rests against hers. "We just gotta figure some stuff out."
Julie swallows. She wants to ask what's going on, but it doesn't really seem like she's supposed to be here for this. It's a Sunset Curve thing. Maybe she should excuse herself? But she was here before this conversation was.
Willie, who apparently is "emotionally healthy" and doesn't spiral about these kinds of things, slings his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "What's going on?"
"Our landlord's upping the rent," Alex whines as he massages the sides of his head. Willie catches his fingers and shifts them out of the way so he can press a gentle kiss into Alex's temple. For a brief moment, the drummer's shoulders sag with relief and a small smile lights up his lips as he leans into his boyfriend's embrace.
Luke's fingers tap Julie's knee, drawing her attention back to him and the conversation. "Landlord's a strong word. One of my dad's buddies owns the house, and she's been renting it to us cheap. Only reason we can afford a whole house in NoHo. But she's hiking up the rent, and there's no way we're gonna be able to afford it anymore."
"Instrument room!" Reggie pipes up. The comment means nothing to Julie, but from the way Alex and Luke immediately roll their eyes, it's not the first time Reggie has brought it up.
Alex counts off on frustrated fingers. "Okay, 1) I'd feel too guilty trying to convince anyone that the instrument room is big enough to qualify as a bedroom, 2) we need at least two extra people paying rent, and 3) where do I put my drums?" Luke opens his mouth, but Alex points a firm finger at him. "Stop suggesting that."
Her boyfriend busts out a laugh, his tongue slipping out of his mouth like he's teasing himself. Julie's heart sinks and warms at the same time, torn between the sharp tang of exclusion and the soft fondness of being fairly confident that Luke's suggestion has been something like "replace your bed frame with the drums."
"Can you guys not find another place?" Willie asks.
"Ugh, we can," Luke's voice hangs on the final letter, dragging out the word like a child whining about having to eat dinner before dessert, "but then we gotta scrounge up extra cash for a rehearsal space."
Alex huffs into his water cup. "Is it too late for you to take the job as a lead?"
The dismissive snarl on Luke's face rivals the expression he makes when guests proudly show off their Dark Mark tattoos. "Fuck being a lead."
"Higher pay though."
"Not high enough. Reg, you should be a lead. You love mentoring people."
Reggie shakes his head. "Only when we're in the same job. I don't want to be in a position of authority. I want everyone to be my friend."
Julie giggles and Luke swivels his head to her, the corner of his mouth jumping up the way it always does when she laughs. And that small reminder of his persistent affection gives her the courage to gently chide him. "You didn't tell me about this."
"Just found out last night."
Ugh, why does she live out in Eagle Rock?
"There's always my plan!" Reggie pipes up.
For a long moment, Alex fixes his exasperated eyes up on the sky, issuing a heavy sigh that suggests that he'd rather wait for owls to start flying overhead delivering mail than continue to participate in this conversation. But he finally drags his eyes back down to Reggie. "'We become rich and famous in the next sixty days' is not a plan."
"It is so! Julie's on board."
Julie can't help grinning at the wriggly bassist. "I think we might need to actually record our EP first." Reggie's face wrinkles up, like she's just issued a grave betrayal. "But I'm sure we'll be rich and famous as soon as we do." His forehead smooths, and he offers his fist for her to bump.
The aggressive, unwelcome chirp of the break timer on Alex's phone cuts the conversation short. As he and Reggie stagger reluctantly to their feet, Alex intones gravely, "We'll come up with a plan tonight. So everyone spend today ignoring the guests and coming up with ideas. Real ideas," he clarifies before Reggie can say anything.
As the rest of Sunset Curve disappears inside the Three Brooms, Luke groans and runs a hand through his hair.
"You okay?" she asks.
"Yeah, just the idea of having to apartment hunt in LA..." He rolls tired, sympathetic eyes at her. It's been six months since she made tentative plans to move to the Valley, and she hasn't found anything she likes that she can also afford. Moving is a hassle and she doesn't want to do it multiple times, so she's trying to get a place that she's actually going to want to live in for a while. But nothing has come up yet that fits in her very narrow target location and price range.
Luke gently squeezes her shoulder. "Anyways, I gotta take a dump."
"You didn't need to share that information."
Bumping her nose with his, he grins. "Course I did. We share everything."
He pops up to go to the employee bathroom. But midway there, he spins around, catches her chin, and tucks her mouth up to his, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to it.
When he pulls back, he breathes out, "Can't believe I almost forgot that."
"Yeah, pretty unforgivable," she whispers back.
He scrunches his nose at her, kisses her again, and then bounces off to the bathroom.
As she often has over the past eight months of their relationship, Julie scans the break area for a secret makeout nook that she can drag Luke to. The nook doesn't exist, but that doesn't stop her from checking.
Willie leans forward on the table. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Oh no. She hopes not, and she's just relieved that her skin conceals the blush she can feel rising in her cheeks. "What are you thinking?"
"They need two extra roommates, but they don't have extra rooms."
In her defense, she wasn't able to get coffee before her shift and her brain isn't operating at its peak. So Willie's plan doesn't click into place until he waggles his finger between the two of them.
"Oh."
He tilts his head at her surprise. "You were planning to anyways, right?"
It's not like she hasn't thought about it. Every time her apartment search comes up empty, she thinks about how the left side of Luke's bed is perfectly suited to her needs. The perfect proximity to work, the band, and her boyfriend. But... it's too soon. She still feels like she's auditioning for her role in the band. Surely she needs to pass some sort of review before she can move in?
Willie runs his eyes over her face and gives her a small encouraging smile. Like he's read the worries that itch the back of her brain, and thinks he can soothe them away with his own lack of concern. "Dunno if Alex will say yes. He's probably gonna worry about it being too soon." The thought of "too soon" prickles in Julie's gut like a bundle of thorns. Apparently not so for Willie, who shrugs the words off. "But when you know, you know, yeah?"
There's something contagious about that confidence, even if Julie's not entirely convinced of it herself, and she finds herself nodding before she's actually thought through the implications.
But Willie's already leaning back in his chair, like they've arrived at a decision she doesn't remember making. "Cool. Then we should both ask them today. Cause the two of us moving in is different than just one of us doing it." He drums his palms on the table, leaving the obvious difference unspoken.
Reggie doesn't tend to get upset about being the only single one in the house, but there are times when it comes up. When they're out as a group, especially when they visit the park. Like when they decide to ride FJ and get confronted by the four-person bench. They never leave Reggie alone, but sometimes there's a look on the bassist's face. A brief, sour pucker. Fleeting and quickly covered up, but there nonetheless. Maybe it's sadness or maybe it's irritation at being treated like he needs to be accommodated—Julie's never felt comfortable asking. It's almost worse when Flynn is there too and she and Reggie pair up, eyeing one another with aggressively platonic expressions.
Given Reggie's relentless, perky support for "Jukebox" and "Willex," the couples might be making a bigger deal of it than either Reggie or Flynn do.
But it's still there.
And it's one thing for Reggie to maybe feel like a fifth wheel on brief moments of a visit to the park. It's quite another to make him a fifth wheel in his own home.
"What if they say no?" Julie asks, worrying her lip.
Willie shrugs. "Then they say no." But a relaxed grin fills his face, pushing out any traces of concern. "I'm gonna ask Alex before lunch, so you should ask Luke ASAP. Cause as soon as they're on break, they're gonna be talking about it."
"Right."
Her lack of conviction must be obvious, because he eyes her shrewdly and extends his pinky. "I'm doing it, you're doing it. Pinky promise?"
"Ooh, an Unbreakable Vow?"
Willie raises an eyebrow. He never gets openly judgmental about Harry Potter, because being judgmental isn't really his thing. But he's insistent, in his very laidback Willie way, with his reminders that he hasn't read or watched Harry Potter, and only has vague knowledge of the Wizarding World from "living in society." More often than not, when he does try to make a reference, it turns out that he's completely misunderstood crucial details or context. Though Julie suspects that he sometimes plays up his confusion to mess with them.
She chuckles awkwardly, shaking her head as if to delete her reference from both of their heads. As she links his pinky with hers, she forces a grin. "Okay, let's do this."
And she does plan to talk to Luke about it.
Until he bounces out of the bathroom and shoots her one of those heart-stopping, perfect smiles of his and one of those confident, (former) frontman winks. Suddenly it feels like eight months ago when he was this unfairly cute guy she worked with who made every inch of her dance with nerves. When she was still finding her place in this city, and trying to convince herself that she could belong here. At this job, with this guy, with these people.
She has a place in the group now, but it still feels fragile and tentative. Like it might disintegrate if they take it out of the park for too long and study it too much. Kind of like the interactive wands from Ollivanders that can perform magic in the designated spell spots. The kind of item that guests drop a lot of money on when they're at the park, because it's hard not to get swept up in the staged magic and the rush of the theme park environment. It's only when they get home and take a second look at the piece of expensive plastic that they realize it doesn't have much value to them outside the bounds of the magical atmosphere of the park.
What if asking to move in, especially if it's too soon, is the thing that finally makes them take that second look at her? That finally lets them question how valuable and long term her presence in their life really is. How can she risk that?
Sunrise Swerve Group Chat:
Julie: Do you think Luke wants to live with me?
Flynn: ... luke PATTERSON?
luke "pouts when you're assigned to the other expo line" patterson?
luke "sends me pictures of engagement rings at least once a week so he can 'start to get a sense of julie's ring preferences'" patterson?
THAT luke patterson?
Julie: Isn't that typical honeymoon phase stuff though?
Willie: lmaooooo
Flynn: what he said
you basically live together anyways
Julie: No, we don't! We only spend the night together, like, five times a week.
Flynn: ? how many nights do you think there are in a week?
Julie: My keyboard doesn't even live at the house full time.
It should move in before I do.
Flynn: ?
is 'my instrument moving in' some kind of extra relationship milestone for professional musicians?
if so i'm real glad i stopped performing after high school
Julie: The band isn't official until my keyboard moves into their house.
Flynn: ummmm the band had better already be official
i spent WAY too much time designing kickass merch
Willie: i put a jatp sticker on my board
it's official
that shit won't ever come off
Julie: Did you ask Alex yet?
Willie: nah his drinks window is slammed
i can feel his stress from register
waiting for him to be chill
Flynn: alex MERCER?
Willie: mock my bf and die by my sword, griffindoor
Julie: *Gryffindor
Willie: nah
she-who-must-get-wrecked doesn't get to misspell griffin and door and then tell me i'm in the wrong
Part of Julie is hoping that work will get in the way. Shift assignments prevent her from hanging out with her friends and boyfriend all the time. Finally, now's the time for that to work for her. If she and Luke are put on different tasks, she won't get the chance to ask him and be rejected, and then she can shrug innocently at Willie and claim she tried her best.
... but of course it doesn't work that way. With a knowing twinkle in her eyes and a gentle warning that she'll be popping in to check on them, Mrs. Harrison sticks Luke and Julie in the supply closet on restocking duty. Which is how Julie ends up alone with her boyfriend, their knees pressed easily together as they sit on either side of a barrel and reload fork bins.
They couldn't be more capable of having this conversation.
Why is the work universe so consistently against her?
Bobbing his head back and forth with an enviable ease, Luke hums along to the music bleeding through the door. Normally Julie would beg him to give her a break from the Potter soundtrack, but right now, her mind is spinning like a frantic record, playing a thousand variants of "Do you want to move in together? Am I really part of the band? Am I permanent? Is it too soon? Do the guys like me?" Blunt, barbed questions that whirl through her brain and crash into her heart like a tornado.
Her whole mind is so stuck on the storm inside that it takes her a moment to realize Luke is talking. Peering at her over the fistful of forks in his hand, he smiles easily and repeats, "Wanna go to a movie tomorrow? Before you answer, I wanna be clear: I'm asking you out, this would be a date, the intention is romance."
She cuts him an exasperated eye roll. A few months ago, she found out that he'd asked her out before they started dating, and he found out that she hadn't realized that he'd been asking her out. In her defense, her mind has been so focused on keeping him from finding out she wasn't performing anymore that she hadn't fully processed the implications of his question. But, in Luke's defense, she definitely should have. Now he teases her about it every single time they make plans, which never fails to feel simultaneously annoying and deserved.
"We'll see if it's romantic when I Rictusempra you."
He sticks out his lip and curls it down, pulling a very exaggerated pout onto his face. Her mouth twitches despite her best efforts to restrain her smile, but he catches it anyways. "Tickling Charm's your worst threat? Really?"
"I'm not actually trying to hurt you. I do love you."
"Still? After all this time?" he asks, shooting her a cheeky wink.
She deflates an eyebrow at the reference. "Please keep Snape far away from our love life."
"Nah, you're supposed to say 'always.'" But then his eyes soften, twinkling at her. "But, personally, I think 'keep Snape far away from our love life' is equally romantic."
She probably shouldn't be wearing a dopey grin over this conversation. But he sends her a dopey grin of his own, and it's hard to be embarrassed when they're matching.
This is the moment. Right now, while he's looking at her like that. She just needs to open her mouth and—"Are we still having dinner with your parents this weekend?"
... completely avoid it like a coward.
His eyebrows tug together as he grabs a fistful of forks and shakes them aggressively, letting the utensils smack into place on top of one another. "Maaaybe."
Oh no. She knows that look. "Is everything okay?" she asks, softening her voice.
"Yeah." But the word huffs out with a heavy sigh, and she waits tensely for the explanation. "My mom called me a Slytherin."
... okay, not what she expected. "What?"
"With so much confidence, Jules! And you'll never guess why."
Now that she knows that it's not serious, she lets herself relax into this conversation that is definitely not a delay tactic, Flynn, thanks for asking. "Why?"
"Because she thinks I'm ambitious!"
"Well—"
Luke wheels on her, his eyes wide and his jaw forming the words with an exaggerated pop, the way it always does when he's outraged. "She thinks I wanna be famous! I don't give a shit about that. I just wanna honor the music. Connect with people, make a difference in their day. Just cause I'm ambitious doesn't mean I value ambition."
She doesn't know how she's supposed to listen to this familiar diatribe without smiling, so she doesn't try. "I know."
But Luke cannot and will not be stopped. "She thinks I'm a Slytherin because she thinks the sorting system is about your personality traits, which is—"
That's when it clicks. "Wait, are you upset because you think your mom doesn't understand you or the sorting system?"
He ducks his head, bites his lip, and peers bashfully at her through his eyelashes. "It's like... 40:60."
"Leaning towards...?"
His eyes slide guiltily off to the side. She knows. And as his eyes click back over to her, she knows that he knows she knows. He bends his lips in a rueful grin before bursting out, "The sorting system, obviously. It's about your values; that's why Hermione and Wormtail—"
If she touches him with her hands, she'll need to replace her gloves, so instead she nudges his knee firmly with hers. "Luke, we've talked about this. Everyone's entitled to have a different interpretation of the sorting system."
He—a 23-year-old adult man—pulls on a full, unironic pout. "Not if they read the books right."
So she nudges him again more firmly. "Everyone has their own understanding of the sorting system and the houses based on their experiences. And their interpretations are valid." Luke opens his mouth, ready to be outraged, and she cuts it off. "That's what interpretation means."
He wiggles his lower lip with an exaggerated tremble. "Me as a Slytherin?"
"It's... an interpretation."
"I hate it." His mouth twists off to the side, like the defiant pout is trying to peel his face off. But then he looks at her and the defiance almost visibly slides off of him. "Alex thinks you're making me more reasonable."
From his tone, she can't tell if it's a compliment. "Should I be sorry about that?"
"Nah, he's been trying to make me more reasonable for decades. Part of why he's so happy you're in the band. He calls you the Luke Wrangler."
Ouch. On the one hand, she wanted a clear role in the band's dynamic, and here's a role. On the other hand, she definitely doesn't want her role to be her boyfriend's girlfriend.
But before she can spiral about it, he asks, with a shy, wobbly voice, "You know I'm a Hufflepuff, right?" His expression is slightly more desperate than the situation warrants, and she bites back her smile.
"Obviously."
The worry vanishes for a moment, his face twinkles up in a blissful grin. But then it falls, and he mumbles petulantly, "Can you tell my mom that?"
She kicks his foot and rolls her eyes. "I think our focus should be getting your mom on-board with the band first. Maybe then we can crash book club and explain the sorting system."
But he doesn't look like he's really listening, because he's staring at her with that soft, awed look he wears sometimes when she surprises him with a lyric. "Our focus?"
"... yeah, why?"
Slipping the final handful of forks into his bin, he shrugs. "I like the pronoun there" is all he says as he pops to his feet.
She gathers the four filled fork bins in her arms and he holds the door open to let her out of the supply closet. "Well, we're a unit, right?"
So fast it looks like he's apparating, he bounces over to the condiment station. He nods as he pulls an empty fork bin out of its slot in the top shelf. "Like the '94 Irish National Quidditch team."
"... why is that your reference point?" She sets the filled fork bins on the counter in front of her.
"They won the World Cup without catching the Snitch, Jules! That's hella impressive. And that's you and me. As long as we're together, we're gonna win the Cup, even if we don't catch the Snitch."
There's a sassy rejoinder on her tongue about how ridiculous the simile is, and how she's not really sure that it actually means anything. But as he moves to slide a fresh fork bin into the slot, all she can think about is the sentiment behind it, and the absurd, hyperfocused, hyperpassionate man she loves. And in that moment, the fog that's lingered heavily in her chest since their ten-minute break clears.
Living together isn't about her theories of what it means about their relationship. It's this—these wonderfully nonsensical conversations that only they care about, and all these moments that make up who they are together. As she takes in the annoyed crease in his forehead over his mother's (mis)interpretation, and the soft, bashful quirk of his lips after his silly Quidditch speech, it's temporarily impossible to have any doubts about their future or her place in it.
Even if they don't catch the Snitch, right? Whatever that means.
"I have a rent solution," she blurts out.
"Yeah?"
"What if Willie and I move in?"
"What?"
Or at least, she thinks that's what he says. Luke is so startled that he whacks the bin against the shelf and it jolts out of his grip. Falling to the counter, it knocks into the other fork bins and sends all four of them flying to the ground. With a loud, aggressive clatter that rings through the entire restaurant, the forks explode out and scatter across the floor.
But Luke's not looking at the forks. He's staring at her, an expression on his face that she can't immediately put a name to. And before she can try, Mrs. Harrison appears between them.
"LUKE."
"I'm sorry, I'll—"
"I put you with your girlfriend as a courtesy. You're too distracted. Go help the runners."
Normally Luke would protest. "Helping the runners" is the busy work that people get assigned to so the leads can justify keeping excess food service workers during the lull between lunch and dinner. The gods are left to run the important stations, and the extra people get assigned to random tasks in the back of house. As far as Julie knows, Luke only ever "helped the runners" during her first couple months whenever she got assigned there. And he grumbled the whole time about how she "deserved better."
But right now, Luke bobs his head with that same look of gratitude he normally reserves for getting assigned to expo, and all but flees.
Okay.
Well.
That was...
She'd worried about him rejecting her. She hadn't thought to worry that he would be harsh about it.
In a daze, Julie retrieves a broom from the supply closet and slowly starts to sweep up the forks. Her mind refuses to move away from the image of his shock, and the longer she lingers on it, the more it starts to yank painfully at her heart and tear ducts.
But before Julie can really start to fall apart, Flynn strides over from the restaurant and gestures her busser's rag at the sea of forks. "What got into your Butterbeer himbo?"
Forcing the lump down her throat with a forceful swallow, Julie manages to get out a quiet "I asked him."
Scraping her foot along the floor, Flynn sweeps some of the forks into Julie's dustpan. "And he threw forks in the air like confetti while he screamed 'yes'?"
"No, he threw them on the ground and fled to help the runners."
Flynn's head snaps toward the kitchen, like she'll be able to see Luke's retreat downstairs. "That's super weird."
"Is it?" Julie hates the desperate whine in her voice, but the sting of Luke's speedy exit still prickles at her heart.
Without pause, Flynn yanks the broom out of Julie's slack hands. "Don't make unnecessary drama for yourself by letting this fester. Go talk to him. Right now."
"I can't—"
"Oh no, look at that, we're out of forks. Someone will have to get some more from downstairs." Flynn tugs open the supply closet door and grabs the heavy wooden crate that they use to carry supplies up from dry storage. She shoves the crate into Julie's arms, and jerks her head in the direction of the kitchen.
"Maybe he needs time by himself to think," Julie tries.
"That boy doesn't do well with time in his own head, and neither do you. Go talk to your boyfriend."
So, with reluctance weighing down every single step, Julie drags herself through the main kitchen, past the dishwashers and the walk-in fridge, all the way down the stairs to the lower level of the kitchen. The now-familiar sights pass in a semi-blur, her gut trying to tug her back to the safety of the supply closet. But Flynn will never let her get away with that. So, body tingling numbly, Julie drifts through the busy lower level kitchen, where prep cooks chop ingredients at a dizzying speed. She lets herself detour to dry storage to snag two boxes of forks and stuff them in the crate. But then, finally, reluctantly, there's nothing left to do but walk to the runners' loading area.
The narrow corridor is lined with shelves, packs of bottled drinks waiting to be delivered to the outdoor drinks carts. A runner, Fuego, loads a handcart with supplies, dancing his head along to the loud Duke Ellington blaring through his headphones.
Julie hovers in the doorway, watching Luke on pumpkin duty. Two giant boxes sit in front of him—one filled with small, hollow plastic pumpkins and the other with pumpkin juice bottles. Her boyfriend absently pushes the pumpkins snugly over top of the bottles, shielding the basic Muggle lids from view.
Normally Luke would be listening to his own music, the only way he gets himself through during rote tasks. But at the moment, his ears are empty of earbuds and his face is filled with a dazed expression. The same expression he wears when he's very invested in a song, like he vacates his body and solely exists in the music in his mind. Usually, it's accompanied with a small, blissful smile. But right now, there's a stressed pucker to his mouth.
She wants to flee. Hand over her heart to the prep cooks and watch them slice it to bits. Anything other than have this conversation.
But she survived the Fourth of July shift from hell. On expo. She can survive this. Cold or frozen.
Pushing back her shoulders and lifting her chin, Julie steps into the corridor and sets down the crate with a thud. Luke jumps, taking in her presence with wide, panicked eyes. "Jules, what are you-?" She nods at the boxes of forks in the crate. Guilt crumples Luke's face. "I'm so sorry."
Huffing out a defeated breath, she rests a hand on her hip and squeezes her own side to reassure herself. "No, I'm sorry. I should have told you in private. I didn't realize the suggestion was going to be that upsetting."
The wrinkles on his face smooth in an instant and he bounces toward her. "No, it's not—"
Clearing his throat loudly, Fuego jerks his head at the pumpkin juice bottles. Luke clenches his jaw, the muscle popping with irritation, but he slides back to his task. Hugging herself, Julie drifts after him.
"What is it?" she asks softly.
"It's..." Luke bites his lip, bouncing up and down like he's charging up for this conversation. When his legs finally still, his hands return to pumpkin duty, but his eyes stay on her. "I know some people move in together and it's not that serious. It's just 'I guess we'll try it and see what happens.' But that's not me. You only wanna move in because we're having rent issues, so we shouldn't do it yet, cause we're on different pages."
Nervous energy runs through his body, flicking visibly over every inch of skin and rippling the clenched muscle of his jaw. But his eyes are steady on hers. She knows that look. Sure of how he feels, unsure whether he's communicated it right.
For lack of anything else to do with her own nervous energy, she picks up a pumpkin and a bottle and slides them together. Aiming for casual, she shrugs as she asks, "What page are you on?"
He bounces his knees again, this time like a child being forced to eat vegetables. She tries to give him an encouraging smile, funneling warmth and love into her eyes, and his face melts into a soft smile as he gazes at her.
Shaking his head to disperse the smile, he replaces it with a firmer set to his lips. The nervous boy taking a backseat to the confident frontman who loves her. "As soon as we move in together, I'm not ever planning to live without you. For me, that's the start of forever."
Whatever her face is doing, it's probably embarrassing. Fuego's silent, disdainful eyes burn the side of her face, but right now she doesn't care. "Really?"
Luke catches his lip between his teeth. "Too much?"
"Not enough. I think the start of forever was the day we met."
A giant, dazed smile spreads over his face before he manages to huff out, "You can't say shit like that at work. Cause then I gotta kiss you and Harrison'll yell at me."
She peers coyly up at him through her eyelashes. "You gotta?"
"Yeah, gotta." His gaze falls deliberately to her lips, and he starts to lean in and—
Fuego clears his throat loudly. Luke's face screws up in annoyance, but he sheepishly scrunches his nose at her, and her heart is hit by a wave of affection strong enough to wash away her doubts.
Moving toward her boyfriend with a firm, deliberate step, Julie lifts her chin and traps his gaze with hers. "Can I move in with you? Before you answer, I want to be clear: I'm asking if you want to live together, this would be a serious commitment, the intention is forever."
He ignores her teasing, eyes roaming over her face like he's struggling to decide which part of it is his favorite. The kind of look that makes her feel warm and wriggly. Finally, the corner of his mouth ticks up in an awed smile and he breathes out, "I really wanna live with you."
"Yeah?"
He bites his lip and nods, so enthusiastic that he looks like a bobble head doll. Then his smile twists into something more serious. "But we gotta check with the guys first."
She absentmindedly tries to squish her fist into the small plastic pumpkin in her hand. It doesn't fit, and she glares at it as she tries again.
But Luke gently pries the pumpkin out of her grip and twines their fingers together. "Jules, even if they say no, if we can't stay at the house, then... maybe you and I find a place ourselves." Her answering grin is automatic, and his smile perks up in response. Nudging her elbow with his, he adds with a falsely casual air, "You put the idea of us living together in my head. Now I want it."
Now that they've finally laid their cards on the table, it's easy to dismiss her doubts from earlier. Easy to remember the overeager, committed guy her boyfriend has always been. Channeling Flynn, she teases, "I put the idea in your head?"
He sticks his tongue out at her before he concedes, "'kay, I've had the idea for months. Thought it was just me being too much. But if you want it too then I don't know how to not live with you. Even if it's just the two of us."
And there's something wonderful about that thought. A place of their own. A happy, domestic bubble for just the two of them.
But then she thinks about the house in NoHo, and she pictures him and her and Reggie and Alex and Willie, with Flynn popping in whenever she likes. Random spontaneous jam sessions, boisterous dinners that remind her of home, loud squabbles over the use of the two bathrooms and what they're going to watch on Netflix and who drank the last of the milk. Luke's exuberance balancing out Willie's chill balancing out Alex's exasperation balancing out Reggie's perkiness.
There's a tug in her gut, a feeling she hasn't needed to feel in almost a year. That desperate longing for family here in LA. A yearning so strong that it pulls at every part of her, like a thousand magnets under her skin.
Yeah, at some point she wants to live alone with Luke. But her bigger desire right now is to be part of this whole unit. To feel completely and utterly accepted by her Potter family. Maybe this plan won't work out, but... she wants Reggie and Alex to want her to live with them.
"All of us would be so great though," she admits.
"My whole family under one roof like that? Yeah, that's the dream."
Julie pops up on the balls of her feet to catch Luke's smile with her own, but Fuego sighs loudly. "Luke, can we pick up the pace? I have to restock Neep."
"Yeah, course."
Her boyfriend smiles apologetically at her, and she pulls away to collect her crate, trying to will professionalism back into her body. But when she looks back at him, his eyes are still lingering on her.
"I love you," he mouths.
"You too," she mouths back.
Sunrise Swerve Group Chat:
Julie: I asked him! He wants to live together.
Willie: not surprising but still hella rad, congrats
Julie: Have you asked Alex?
Willie: yep
Julie: And?
Willie: idk
he got hella quiet, begged harrison to go on control
Julie: Shit, I'm sorry.
Willie: nah it's cool
means he's gotta spiral for a bit
being on control is his happy place
basically self-care
he'll figure out how he feels and get back to me
Julie: How are you so calm about everything?
Willie: i scream in museums a lot
Julie: … what?
Willie: not to brag but i've been banned from both lacma and the getty
jk
i'm totally bragging
Julie: I have so many questions.
Willie: tbh answers would probs make it more confusing
maybe when i go to museums i should start casting shutupicus on myself
Julie: You mean silencio?
Willie: lol no that's nonsense
shutupicus
Julie: Okay, where on earth is Flynn? Is she actually working instead of being on her phone?
Willie: disappointing if true
text while working, get on my level
Text Chat with Flynny Weasley:
Julie: 911!
I don't want to say this to Willie because he'll say it's nothing.
But Alex has talked to Luke about wanting to live with Willie, so if he's panicking, it's because he doesn't want to live with me.
Should I drop out? I don't want to ruin this for them, but the plan doesn't work if only one of us moves in.
FLYNN!
911 MEANS 911!
When Julie gets back to the restaurant with the extra forks, she plans to panic privately in the safety of the supply closet. But she doesn't get the chance, because Alex is vigorously pacing from the supply closet door to his post at the end of the condiments corridor. Flynn is finishing up the restock, loading a fresh tub of vinegar packets into its slot as she tries to soothe him.
"Alex, this is a good thing."
"It's not about whether it's good! It's change."
Julie comes to a full stop, eyes ticking nervously over Alex. "What's going on?"
"Willie wants to move into the house," Alex grinds out, pacing faster.
Julie hesitates before setting the heavy crate on the floor. "And you don't want him to?"
"No, I really want him to."
So it is about her. She tries to open her mouth, searching for the words to say... she's not sure what. But luckily Alex hasn't finished speaking. "And that means I can't trust my judgment."
"What?"
Flynn gestures at Julie. "Thank you."
Alex slides his hands down into his apron pocket. It's a nervous habit of his that she's noticed—he likes to wrap his hands in fabric when he's stressed as if the soft enclosure gives him a source of security. But apparently it's not enough this time, and a stressed groan tugs out of his chest. "I'm thinking with my heart. I need to be thinking with my brain. Moving in together has to be a rational decision, and I'm not feeling rational right now!"
A guest picks up their tray from the condiment counter and cautiously approaches Alex. He tries to twist his face into a polite smile, but it's forced and warped. More than a little terrifying. "How many for your table?" he asks, breathless and overly aggressive.
"Um... one?"
Alex steps out into the restaurant and holds up one finger, waiting for a busser to notice and come seat the guest, but no one is looking over at control. Hissing out a breath, Alex's body trembles, his nerves almost visibly fraying in front of them. Flynn dashes forward and greets the guest with a warm smile.
"I'll get you seated."
As she starts to guide the guest toward a free table, she shoots a pointed glance over her shoulder at Julie and jerks her head at Alex.
Oh god. Julie doesn't have Flynn's laser sharp pragmatism, or Willie's chronic sense of calm, or Luke and Reggie's experience with soothing Alex. What if she makes this worse?
Exhaling a long, shaky breath, Alex drifts over to the condiment station next to her and rests his forearms on the counter, bending over to tuck his head between his arms. Julie reaches out a hand to Alex's shoulder, but he flinches her off. Wincing, she retracts her rejected hand.
Without lifting his head, Alex asks, "This would be a mistake, right? You're not supposed to move in together to save money."
"Not just to save money. Would you want to live with him if money wasn't an issue?"
Alex groans. "Yeah, but I shouldn't. It's way too early."
"I don't think there's a timeline for this kind of thing," she offers gently. He turns his head to blink at her, crinkling up the skin between his eyes like he's trying to figure out why he recognizes a song. "And it's been eight months."
But Alex shoves himself back from the condiment counter and starts pacing again. "Exactly, eight months! There are fetuses who were conceived eight months ago that haven't even been born yet. Our relationship is fetal."
"I don't think that's the best way to measure time?"
He shakes a hand in the direction of FJ, as if they can actually see the castle from here. "It's less than a full school year at Hogwarts!"
"And Harry and Ron were willing to risk their lives for Hermione after less than a full school year." Huh. That sounded more comforting and relevant in her head. "They formed a strong bond quickly. That's a thing that happens."
"No, they were just fictional eleven-year-olds who made consistently terrible life choices!"
"The point is, sometimes you know something in your gut."
"I don't! I use my gut exclusively for digesting and panicking." He rubs his stomach vigorously and tries to force out a long exhale, the breath shivering between his lips.
Fuck. She is really, really bad at this.
As Julie tries to figure out a new approach, Flynn slides into the spot where the control usually stands. Julie watches her raise a concerned eyebrow, nodding at the build-up of guests hovering at a distance who clearly need to access the condiment station but don't want to disrupt Alex's very evident distress.
Julie wraps her hand around Alex's arm and tugs gently. Like he has no strength left to resist, he lets her guide her into the privacy of the supply closet, reaching down automatically to pick up the crate on their way in. As soon as they get inside, he completely deflates, dropping the crate on the ground with a sharp clunk. Julie gently tips him back onto a stool.
As he huffs out shaky breaths, she glances around the small room, searching for inspiration. Her eyes land on the empty fork bins on the barrel, and she's reminded of what calmed her. Not speeches or false promises about the future. Just the reminder of who she was moving in with, and what their relationship was.
She snags one of the empty bins and holds it in front of him. "Okay, put your thoughts about the timeline and the future in here for a second."
Alex raises an eyebrow, his natural impulse to sarcasm temporarily overriding his panic. "Do I have to use the props?"
"Yes."
Deeply unimpressed, he reaches a finger to his temple, then tugs it away and wiggles it over the bin, like he's dragging a memory into a Pensieve.
"Close your eyes and just picture living with Willie. How do you feel about it?"
Alex groans but lets his eyelids drift shut. She doesn't know what scenario he plays in his head, but as the silence between them drags on, his mouth bends up into a small, soft, bashful smile. Something gentle and loving that slowly morphs into full-on bliss.
Then he opens his eyes, and his brow crumples up again. "But what happens if we break up? What do we do while he looks for a new place?"
"Instrument room."
Alex flexes the corner of his mouth, snarling his face up into a queasy expression. "It's going to be so awkward."
"Do you want to live with him eventually? Because if you think you'll ever want to live together, that's always going to be a risk. Whether it's now or years from now." Alex tucks his hands into his apron pocket and hisses out a quiet, shaky breath. Okay, not the right approach. "And this way, if that happens, you won't be alone. We'll all help you get through the awkwardness."
"But eight months—"
"Luke and I are only at eight months too," she points out gently.
Alex's head snaps up so quickly she could swear she hears a crack. "Wait, are you moving in?"
Oh. "... did Willie not mention that?"
Issuing a nervous chuckle, he shrugs. "I don't know." Without taking his hands out of the comforting fabric, he lifts up the apron pocket to gesture at his head. "My brain shut off after he asked if he could move in."
Julie laughs and eases herself onto the stool across from him. "Okay, well, I was thinking of moving in with Luke. Unless you think eight months is too early for us?"
He cuts her a look. "I see your game." The mixture of exasperation and admiration on his face normally only gets directed at Reggie and Luke. Being on the receiving end of it for once feels strangely like a welcoming hug.
But then a heavy sigh tugs out of him. "Willie doesn't worry about this stuff, so I feel like I have to make plans in case things go wrong."
And she gets that, because sometimes Luke's optimism and enthusiasm makes her feel like she should be doing extra planning to make sure there's a practical basis to the things they do. But also, "Were you making plans, or just listing worst-case scenarios?"
A flush tinges his cheeks, and he huffs out sheepishly, "You sound like my therapist."
"My therapist has given me a lot of advice that I haven't taken. So I have a lot of unused advice that you are welcome to have." He laughs, nerves making the sound come out louder than the joke deserves. She smooths the smile out of her face, replacing it with a more serious expression as she admits. "I'm nervous too."
"Don't be," Alex insists immediately, switching from panic to carer mode in the blink of an eye.
"But it's only been eight months."
"There isn't a timeline for—" Realizing what he's saying, he snaps his mouth shut and that exasperated/admiring look reappears on his face. "Okay, well-played. Time is meaningless. If you move in with Luke, I'll move in with Willie."
"Only if it's alright with you and Reggie. Cause you needed two roommates, but if you don't want me around—"
"Are you kidding? This whole Eagle Rock thing is ridiculous. I've almost asked you to move in on Luke's behalf so many times." The smile drops from Alex's face, replaced with a rare calm sincerity as he gently squeezes her forearm. "Jules, we need you to keep me and Luke grounded. We wouldn't last two days without you."
A soft chuckle escapes her at the reference. Apparently she's the Luke Wrangler and the Alex Wrangler. Maybe that's her role in the band: the emotional support. Still not really what she wanted, but at least it's something she can do. Something that doesn't render her easily replaceable.
Even though she tries to keep her smile a normal size, she can tell from the soft look on Alex's face that he clocks how much it means to her. He squeezes her arm once more before letting go.
"Have you talked to Reggie?" she asks.
Alex's eyes light up with understanding, but he shakes his head. "No, I've just been spiraling. I'll text him, hold on."
It takes several long minutes of gnawing on his lip, shaking his head to himself, and typing and retyping before he finally taps the send button and drops his phone on the barrel. "I can't look, I'm too nervous."
It's not that Julie is any less nervous, but her nervousness doesn't cause her as much pain as Alex's does, so she picks up his phone and sets it on her lap out of view. She doesn't read any of the texts, no matter how strong the temptation is. The Sunset Curve group chat, which Luke sometimes shows her glimpses of, has become the stuff of legend to her. Like it's some kind of mystical window, an unguarded look at her boys and their utterly wild ways. Something very funny that's not for her.
But the chat isn't the point right now. The only thing that matters is one member of that chat.
Just breathe, Julie.
Don't look at the screen. Reggie's been floating around the Three Brooms all day, assigned to a lot of random tasks, so he might take a while to respond—
"Oh, he's typing!"
The three dots dance for a long time, and Julie watches every move with a voracious hunger. Like she can turn the dots into words if she just watches long enough or desperately enough.
Then the dots stop.
And don't start up again.
Sunrise Swerve Group Chat:
Julie: Okay, Alex and I need to be reassured.
We texted Reggie, but he gave us the three dots of death and then vanished.
That's fine, right? That's normal?
Flynn: for reggie not to text back immediately?
reggie PETERS?
don't tell alex, but i'd panic
Willie: yeahhh
reggie + his phone are my potter otp
(am i using otp right)
Julie: He does love his phone.
Willie: no one panic
but maybe be kinda concerned
ugh when alex texted me i got hella excited
i wanna live with my bf
Julie: It's probably not about you.
Reggie was teasing Alex last week about installing a skateboard rack by the front door.
He's definitely team Willex.
Willie: also team jukebox
maybe the corpse snackers kidnapped him
Flynn: omfg willie we know you know it's death eaters
jules, even if it is about you, you're in a band, it's a lot of time to spend together, it's healthy to want time apart
but don't assume anything
but even if it's true, don't take it personally
Julie: Or I could assume everything and take it very personally.
Willie: are u spending too much time with alex
do u need me to swap with u ;)
Flynn: you know harrison won't let you work in the supply closet together
Willie: ugh u make out with ur boyfriend at work 1 time
suddenly it's a "pattern of behavior"
Julie: In her defense, it is literally every single time you're in the supply closet together.
Willie: ugh u make out with ur boyfriend at work 100 times
suddenly it's a "pattern of behavior"
Julie and Alex work for the next hour in relative silence. The tension hangs in the air, nervous itchiness settling over both of them as they keep their eyes glued to Alex's phone.
In the end, the only thing that halts the complete unraveling of their nerves is Mrs. Harrison sticking her head into the supply closet. "We don't need two people in here," she admonishes them. "One of you go help Reggie in the walk-in."
Normally, Julie doesn't like working in the walk-in fridge. It's chilly and isolating, and the jobs in there are so menial that she feels her brain shutting off, especially as the cold invades every cell of her body. But Reggie hates the walk-in even more, because he doesn't do well with any job where he's left alone for too long. Maybe now is the time for Julie to prove herself as the Reggie Wrangler. Or at least the Reggie Helper.
So, shooting Alex a look that she can only hope is reassuring, Julie pops to her feet and leaves him to the comfort of the empty supply closet.
Before she even reaches the walk-in fridge, from as far away as the dishwashing station, she can hear Reggie's voice. No matter how many times the exasperated kitchen staff remind him that the walk-in isn't soundproof, he inevitably starts singing at the top of his lungs anytime he's left alone in the fridge for more than two minutes, turning himself in an acapella radio that can't be quieted or retuned. This time, it sounds like he's in an early-days-of-YouTube mood, because he's singing the Potter Puppet Pals' "Mysterious Ticking Noise."
And in classic Reggie fashion, he's trying to sing three different, overlapping vocal parts at the same time. "Snape, Snape, Sev-er-us Snape. Dumbledore! Snape. Ron! Snape. Ron! Sev-er-Ron Weasley!"
The nonsensical sound rings fondly in her chest, temporarily relaxing the nerves that are so tightly wound around her heart.
It doesn't seem to be having quite the same effect on the dishwashers, who are exchanging baffled, irritated looks. One of the dishwashers whines to another, "I gotta transfer back to Springfield. These nerds are exhausting."
Julie wants to be outraged, but then the dishwasher at the end of the line dutifully starts singing "Hermione!" under his breath and she shoots him a knowing grin.
Sprinting the final few steps to the walk-in, Julie yanks open the fridge door and greets the wash of dry, cold air with "Harry Potter, Harry Potter, ooh! Harry Potter, Harry Potter!"
Looking up from his spot in front of the strawberry bins, Reggie's face lights up like the rising sun.
"Snape!" he squeals, taking a bouncy step towards her.
"Harry!" she chirps back, taking her own step.
"Snape!" He takes another step.
"Harry!" She takes another step.
"Snape!" Step.
"Harry!" Step.
"Snape!" Step.
"Harry!" Step.
"Snape!" Step.
"Harry!" Step.
Finally within hugging distance of her, Reggie flings his arms tightly around her, holding his gloved hands away from her back. "Dumbledooooore!" he crows.
It's been a long day and she still hasn't had any coffee, so she lets herself bask in the hug for a moment, burying her already cold face into the thick coat he's wearing to tolerate the temperature in the walk-in. "You know they can hear us out there, right?"
"I do!"
"And that they're judging us?"
Reggie releases her. "Don't feel shame, Julie. Pity the haters, and above all, those who live without love for the Mysterious Ticking Noise."
He says it so seriously that she has to laugh, and his face winks up in a smile at the sound. "Strawberry duty?" she asks, nodding at the bin of ripe strawberries that Reggie is sorting out for tomorrow's breakfast.
"Most of them aren't ripe, so it's taking a while. Did they send you in here for friendship?"
Wrapping her arms around herself to warm against the insistent chill, Julie flicks a smile at him. "Harrison said it was to help you out, but she probably meant friendship."
Reggie reaches for the zipper of his coat, like he's going to offer it to her, but she waves a dismissive hand. "I'm from the Northeast. I can handle cold."
He shoots her a pout. "You've been here for over a year. Haven't we adopted you by now?"
Smiling at how indignant the pucker of his mouth is, she pulls on a fresh pair of gloves and gestures around the walk-in at the various shelves of chilled foods and sauces. "What do you need help with?"
"Traying sauces, please? I can't tell them apart."
Julie eyes the stacked tower of plastic crates, all filled with unsorted cups of sauce and dressing from the prep kitchen that need to be organized by type and laid out on trays so they can fit into the expo fridges. Traying is repetitive, but it's not the worst rote job. Occasionally, there's a moment where she needs to turn on her brain to figure out whether a white sauce is tartar, ranch, or garlic aioli.
... except she realizes, on peeking into the top crate, that she can tell the difference at a glance. Has she worked here too long?
The air falls silent between them, filled only with the hum of the fridge, the click of sauce pots on trays, the soft thump of strawberries in bins, and the gentle chatter of her teeth. Normally, her ears sigh with relief in the walk-in—welcoming the break from the repetitive soundtrack that bleeds out of the restaurant and into every other part of the Three Brooms back of house. But right now, the air feels heavy with all the words they're not saying. With Reggie's obvious discomfort at the idea of her moving in. A discomfort apparently so great that he doesn't even know how to phrase it. It would be one thing if it was Alex or Luke, who sometimes struggle to put words to their emotions. But this is Reggie, who never hesitates before blurting out his feelings. Who would rather say something poorly than hold it in.
Obviously she has to be the one to start this conversation. But how?
"I, uh, really like your take on the piano part at the end of Bright." As soon as the words are out, she's not sure if they're meant to avoid the inevitable conversation or to soften him up. But apparently this is what she's gone with. Why didn't she get coffee earlier? Her brain hasn't been in shape for any of the emotional conversations she's had today.
Tossing an underripe strawberry in the air, Reggie catches it in his mouth, swallows it whole, and flashes her an easy grin. "I like that you wrote a piano part for Bright."
"Well, thanks for... inviting me to join the band."
Reggie tilts his head. "Didn't you invite yourself?"
"Uh..." Okay, technically yes, but Luke had said he already talked to Alex and Reggie. She assumed they were all on board. Was she wrong? "Thanks for letting me invite myself."
His face rumples in open confusion. "Yeah?"
She quickly turns back to the sauces, aiming for casual. But as she's holding a white sauce up to the light to figure out what kind it is, she catches him studying her.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah. ... are you?"
"Happy as a clam. Why wouldn't I be?"
"No reason." They fall silent for a split second, but the buzz of the fridge rattles inside her. As much as she's tried to avoid talking about Reggie's love life with him—never feeling like it was her place—it's preferable to the awful, gut-wrenching silence. Maybe if she understands this piece of their group dynamic better, she'll understand why he doesn't want her to move in. "Um, have you hung out with Kayla recently?"
Anyone else would call attention to the speed at which she's cycling through conversation topics, like she's hurling Bludgers at Reggie to prevent him from catching the Snitch. But this is Reggie, and his brain happily keeps pace without questioning it. "Not really. She works in the Lower Lot now."
"Oh." On the one hand, it feels silly to treat someone transferring to a different part of the same park as if they've moved across country. But on the other hand, any part of the park outside Potter feels separate enough already, and the Lower Lot is a steep, eight-minute escalator journey down the hill. It's an entirely different world, and Julie knows as much about it as she does about Universal Studios Japan. "Do you two still talk?"
"Sometimes. She's in this dance troupe, so she's really busy."
Reggie's perkiness is throwing Julie off. He seems fine, but she still feels like she should be comforting him. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's great! She's a really awesome friend."
And he seems so unconcerned that she's almost questioning her understanding of their history. "Weren't you interested in her?"
"I was. But it wasn't to be." He shrugs. "Plus, after being around you and Luke and Willie and Alex..." Is this finally going to be it? Reggie finally voicing his loneliness? Maybe this is the thing she can do for him. Talking him through his love life, giving him hope—"... I think I'm not really looking for anything right now."
She tries not to stare, because it's not really shocking. Not wanting to date is perfectly normal. And he wouldn't even be the only one in their friend group—Flynn is very vocally delighted to be single. It's just that the ever-flirting Reggie never gave off that vibe. "You're not?"
"I deserve to be with someone who treats me like Willie treats Alex, and talks about me like Luke talks about you, and looks at me like you look at Luke. But I've spent the last five years dating random people who didn't end up treating me that well."
Her hand is partway toward Reggie's shoulder before she remembers she'd have to change her gloves. She gives him an encouraging smile instead. "You'll find—"
He wrinkles his nose. "The right person?" As soon as it's verbalized, they both wince at the trite phrase. But then he shrugs it off. "Someday, I hope. But not right now. I used to date anyone who was interested cause I thought being loved would make me like myself. I think I need a healthier relationship with love before I add another person into the mix." As soon as he verbalizes the words, he jerks back slightly and smiles to himself. Like he's delighted to discover the words coming from his mouth. As his eyes bounce up to hers, a beam shoots across his face. "Thanks!"
She almost drops the sauce she's holding. "I didn't do anything."
"I guess I needed someone to ask the question so I could answer it for myself. The guys get all weird about my love life cause they feel guilty. Thanks for only being semi-weird."
As he turns back to the strawberries with a grin, she gnaws on her lip, only to realize there's a faintly metallic taste to the skin. Crap, she's gnawed through to blood. Okay, maybe it's time to be honest and transparent.
"It's okay that you don't want me to live with you guys," she blurts out. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't just say that. I don't ever want to—"
"Woah." Reggie holds up a hand, like he's stopping traffic, and her words catch in her throat. "I'm really excited for you to move in."
"... what?"
"I told Alex and Luke that."
"No, you didn't."
Leaning over to the shelf next to him where his phone rests, Reggie taps his elbow on the screen. The phone unlocks at the sight of his face, and he reads the screen with a giggle. "OH! Bad reception in the walk-in. My text didn't send." He huffs a warm breath up at his nose and leans over to hit the send button with his slightly heated nose tip.
Her nerves must show on her face, because the mirth slips from his face and he nods to his phone, a clear invitation. She shouldn't read it... but some part of her needs this.
The Weird Brothers Group Chat:
Alex: Possible rent solution: what if Willie and Julie move in?
It's fine if you're not comfortable with that, Reg
Reggie: FRIENDSHIP HOUSE? i love it! can they move in tonight?
She tugs her gaze from the phone to Reggie. "Oh."
He tilts his head again, eyes wide with innocent confusion. "Why would you think I wouldn't be okay with it?"
"I..."
He spins a strawberry in the light, then chucks it in the bin with the unripe strawberries. "I'm not lonely."
"I know that," she says with all the conviction of someone who literally just learned this a minute before.
"Then why?"
And before she thinks through a good or diplomatic or well-articulated answer, the truth stumbles out. "I don't help you."
"Do I need help?"
But Julie's panic train is running. Alex paces with his feet, and she paces with her words, and all of her worries pour out of her like a flood. "I don't have a role in the band. Everyone else has a role and they help each other and they do stuff for each other, and I don't have that with you. I'm the Luke Wrangler and maybe the Alex Wrangler, but for you—"
Reggie chucks an unripe strawberry at her face.
"What the hell?" she exclaims, trying to wipe the red stickiness off her cheek with her forearm before the dampness can trap more cold in her skin.
"You're not the Luke Wrangler," Reggie scolds.
"Oh." So she has no role then. She's the non-contributing member of—
"You don't need a role. Your only role is to be Julie."
"That's sweet, but—"
Reggie's hands go back to his strawberry sorting, like he's made his point. "No, it's just true. None of us have roles. We're just us. And now we have you, and we just want you to be you."
"Maybe." She stares down at the tray of sauces in front of her, only to realize that it's definitely a blend of all the different white sauces. Crap. As she scrambles to fix the tray, she realizes Reggie is still studying her.
"I've never thanked you."
"For what?"
"The band. Sunset Curve never felt right. There was always something missing. Like an underseasoned soup, but we couldn't figure out what we need to add. Now we've got you, and the band finally tastes right."
It's sweet, but she can't keep the dubious tone out of her voice. "Tastes right?"
Reggie looks at the ceiling, like he's searching for a different phrasing, but then he nods. "Yep. Tastes right." His voice softens. "Did you not know that?"
She opens her mouth to give the dismissive lie, but... "No."
He chucks another unripe strawberry at her, which she only just manages to duck. "Can you just own your awesomeness for once?"
Reluctantly, she rolls her eyes. "I'm the missing flavor."
Another strawberry flies at her. "I said own your awesomeness."
"I'm..."
"Awesome," he coaches.
"I'm awesome," she drawls, reluctantly and sarcastically. But he holds up yet another strawberry, primed for throwing it, and she quickly repeats with more conviction, "I'm awesome!"
He tosses the strawberry into his mouth and winks. "Good. Now move into the house so we don't have to mope when you're not around. That's an order, not a request."
The giant smile on her face hurts, her dry, cold lips cracking from the wide stretch. But right now, she doesn't care. "If you insist."
His face lights up and he bounces eagerly in place. Then his eyes slide down to her arms, and his grin grows impossibly bigger. "I knew we adopted you."
She glances down at the exposed skin, confused. Only to realize that they're covered in very visible goosebumps. So much for her Northeast weather swagger.
Before she can say anything, Reggie takes off his gloves, unzips the coat, and holds it open for her to slide into. When she hesitates, he insists gently, "Can't have our frontwoman freeze."
"Can't have our bassist freeze either."
"Trade off every five minutes?"
"Do you promise to take it back?" He nods and holds out his right hand. "Is this a pinky promise?"
"No, an Unbreakable Vow. Obviously!"
She pulls off her gloves and takes his right hand with hers. And as their fingers temporarily wrap around each other's wrists in a pathetic imitation of a Vow, the last lingering worry finally melts from her mind.
When Julie walks out of the changing room at the end of her shift, Luke is sitting on the back of the couch, the way he always does when he waits for her. Both of his feet bounce against the ground, his whole body leaking more impatient energy than usual.
As soon as he sees her, he beams, jumps to standing, and holds open his arms to her. She rushes into them, letting him swallow her in the warmth of his embrace for a moment.
She's home.
She's so busy letting herself bask in the feelings that it takes her a moment to register that he's leaning over and sniffing the side of her face. Through a bemused laugh, she asks, "Did you just smell me?"
Without a lick of shame in his voice, he chuckles. "Just reminding myself what Amortentia would smell like for me."
The mix of exasperation and fondness that he so often inspires crashes over her, and she shakes her head. "It doesn't literally smell like the person you love."
"Close enough." He grabs her hand and spins her in place so her back rests against his chest. Wrapping an arm around her to tuck her close, he pulls his phone out of his pocket with his other hand and holds it up so they can both see the screen. "Okay, it's time."
"... for me to look at your phone?"
He laughs and shakes his head, his chin tickling the top of her scalp as he opens The Weird Brothers group chat. Brushing a kiss to her temple, he clicks "add contact."
She cranes her neck to look back at him. "But you need a group chat for just the three of you."
"Yeah, we'll make a new one."
"So this is purely symbolic?"
Sidestepping her teasing, he nods and presses a lingering kiss to her cheek. "The intention is forever, but forever isn't just you and me, right? We're all a unit."
"Like the '94 Irish National Quidditch Team?"
A slow smile slides across his face and he turns back to his phone, fingers moving with purpose toward his contact list. But before Luke can find her name, the notification pops up. "Alex Mercer added Julie Molina to the conversation."
A warmth glows in her heart and slowly starts to spread outwards. Like the seed of this family has finally sprouted, and is growing to fill her entire chest. Like home is now part of her, and her part of it. Or maybe, to be less sappy and symbolic, just like she's finally realized she had the wrong interpretation of her place until today.
She flashes a grin up at Luke. "Alex stole your symbolic gesture." But Luke's eyes are still on the phone, a soft glow to his smile as the phone buzzes two more times.
And as she settles more firmly into his arms, takes out her own phone, and opens the group chat, she lets herself bask in the warmth flowing through her from all directions.
She still doesn't really know if "we're gonna win the Cup, even if we don't catch the Snitch" means anything. But right now, it feels like the truest sentence she's ever heard.
Butterbeer Dream Team Group Chat:
Alex: Okay! Time for house rules
Flynn: why am i included in this
Reggie: bc friendship!
Alex: Rule #1:
No shenanigans in communal rooms
Julie: Shenanigans?
Alex: Anything Umbridge would consider inappropriate
Luke: … are you comparing yourself to umbridge?
Alex: RULE #2:
Julie: Shouldn't these be educational decrees?
Alex: We are not on company property. I'm not being paid to give a crap about Harry Potter anymore
Rule #2: the walls are thin
Willie: hot dog that's not a rule
Alex: Please stop having loud conversations about music in the middle of the night. I refuse to be woken up by you two waxing poetic about diminished chords again
I'd honestly prefer overhearing you… Reg, do you have a euphemism for this?
Reggie: ooh trying to throw the quod in the pot
Willie: wtf
Luke: fuck yeah, outstanding quodpot reference
Alex: Strong "no" to every part of that sentence
Flynn: would like to second willie's wtf
Julie: Have you not read Quidditch Through the Ages?
Alex: No, I was busy doing literally anything else
Reggie: reading tales of beedle the bard?
Alex: Babe, I'm so glad you're moving in. Do you see what I'm subjected to?
Willie: u love it :p
but i def didn't need to know the wizarding world has something called quodpot, what the actual fuck
Alex: Rule #3:
Flynn: i reaaaally don't have to be here for this
Reggie: flynn u could move into the instrument room!
Flynn: there isn't enough money IN THE WORLD
Reggie: but we need a gryffindor in the house! trying to complete the set
Alex: We don't have a Slytherin either
Julie: According to Emily, we do. :P
Luke: JULES i thought you loved me. why would you say that? :'(
willie doesn't care, so he can be the designated slytherin
Alex: My boyfriend is NOT A Slytherin, how dare you!
Luke: Hey, that kinda anti-slytherin prejudice is not welcome in the group chat
Julie: Yeah, stop making fun of Luke's house. [snake emoji]
Luke: JULES
Julie: 3 Sorry, it's too funny!
I know you're a [badger emoji]
Willie: raccoon?
Julie: Haha, it's a badger!
Luke: I BLEED YELLOW AND BLACK
Willie: oof should probs go to a doctor for that, good luck bro
Flynn: can I PLEASE unsubscribe from this gchat?
Reggie: u can't unsubscribe from friendship flynn
this friendship is forever
Alex: But the "drinking unicorn blood" kind of forever
Luke: the friendship is forever, but by being part of this friend group, you will live a half-life
Julie: A cursed life.
Reggie: from the moment the blood of friendship touches ur lips
Willie: …
seriously, wtf are these books about?
There will be more fics in the Wizarding World of Food Service verse coming soon!
References:
• "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)" by Duke Ellington and His Orchestra (Fuego exclusively listens to jazz, I do make the rules)
• "Potter Puppet Pals: The Mysterious Ticking Noise" by Neil Cicierega