In which they need to deal with some shit from their neighbours (and kick his ass) so just a warning for a little bit of offensive material I suppose, which obviously aren't my personal views at all (: Please review!
Also, this is so loooong. I'm so sorry.
Things had been tense lately, there was no denying that. Over the past few weeks both of their tempers had been increasingly short, and Voldemort didn't really have any idea how to fix it. It seemed like whatever they did, the other would find a reason to snap, and then they'd both probably sulk for the next few hours before making up, only to repeat the process the following day.
"Shoes, where are my shoes?" Quirrell accidentally shoved Voldemort as he rushed past, late for work.
"I have no idea." Voldemort grouched back, rubbing his shoulder. "Where you last left 'em, probably."
"Ha. Hilarious." Quirrell muttered, rummaging through their hallway closet. "I saw them last night! Why do you have to move everything in this damn house?"
"Because your constant cluttering annoys me like hell! Anyway, I didn't even touch your shoes."
Wang Mu, their one year old daughter, from where she was sitting in her baby high-chair kicked out her little legs. "Shoes. Daddy lost shoes."
"Yes, Daddy has." Quirrell sighed, then made a triumphant noise. "A-ha! Got 'em." He hastily put them on, straightening his tie and grabbing up his briefcase. As he did so, Voldemort glimpsed his wedding ring and smiled to himself as he looked down at his own. Why were they snapping all the time, anyway? They were married. Shouldn't they still be in wedded bliss or something? Even if the event had been a few months ago…
"I'll see you guys later tonight." Quirrell had made his way over and kissed the top of Wang Mu's head, before hurriedly heading for the front door. Voldemort followed him with a frown, tapping his shoulder just as he exited the house.
"Hm?" Quirrell turned around, lingering outside, glancing at his watch as Voldemort leant against the doorframe.
"What about me? Do I not get a kiss or something?"
A smile spread across Quirrell's face and he laughed, raising a hand to his mouth. "Oh God, I'm sorry! I'm awful."
"You are." Voldemort grinned back, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him closer. "You'd think it was only common courtesy to kiss your husband before you go to work, wouldn't you?"
Quirrell's eyes shone, the way Voldemort's presumably did when he heard the word 'husband' and wrapped an arm around his waist to give him a deep kiss. "Maybe you should, y'know, teach me that lesson so I don't ever forget it…" He whispered in Voldemort's ear, before giggling and kissing him again.
Voldemort groaned softly at that, wrapping his arms around his waist and giving him a gentle squeeze. "Mm." He murmured once they'd parted, resting his forehead against Quirrell's. "Yeah, maybe I will." He was just about to lean in and kiss Quirrell one last time before he went, when he heard a voice.
"Excuse me?"
They both glanced up to find the middle-aged neighbour who lived to the left of them by their gate – John? Jim? Something like that - holding his five year old girl's hand. He'd only moved in around a year ago, and never really ventured outside much. It was kind of a shame; Voldemort had liked the old neighbours.
Jim or John or whoever he was had a stony expression and Voldemort tried to think about what he could've done to piss him off. He hoped it wasn't anything too serious; he wasn't in the mood this morning for this guy.
"Yeah?" He called back, "Can we help you?"
"Look." The man was clearly uncomfortable, but he continued regardless. "Could you…could you not do that in public?"
Ok, what? Voldemort wasn't the only one who'd gone rigid – Quirrell had completely frozen up as well. "You'll have to be more specific." Voldemort said as calmly as possible, while he tried to remember where he'd last put his wand. "What exactly is it that we're doing?"
"Listen, I know what you guys are. You've lived here for a while now, and you keep yourselves to yourselves, which is appreciated. I mean, this is a family neighbourhood, you know? I don't need my kid to…to see that kind of behaviour."
"Are you serious?" Voldemort said incredulously. "Are you actually gonna stand in front of my house and say that to us?"
"I'll see you after work." Quirrell muttered quietly, pulling away from Voldemort's hold.
"No, hold on a minute. We don't need to give in and listen to this." Voldemort caught his arm, only to be roughly shaken off.
"Leave it." Quirrell snapped. "What's the point? I'll see you later."
"No! I've heard enough of this crap from when I was a kid, I'm not having it now, and neither are you!" He turned back, glowering. "Excuse me, but you are completely out of line." He addressed his neighbour, barely concealing his fury. "How can you stand outside our own house and give us grief for kissing each other? We're married, for God's sake! And - Quirrell, where the hell are you going?"
"I'm late!" Quirrell retorted, and Voldemort could see how upset his partner was as he rushed past the neighbour without another word and got into his car before driving away. Voldemort clenched his jaw as he stared after him, then turned to face the man, actually deciding to walk down the path now to get a better target.
"So. A family neighbourhood, huh? Have you missed out the fact that my husband and I have a family too?"
"Your adopted daughter, yes." He replied, a little stiffly. "And what a burden that must be on the child, to not have a mother and instead two…well…"
"Two fathers who adore her? I wasn't aware that was a bad thing." His hands were trembling. If only he had his wand on him…He didn't care who saw…
"Listen, I don't want a fight. I just wanted to tell you that for the sake of my daughter, I'd prefer it if you controlled yourself in public places."
"It's my house! I can do whatever the hell I want!" He said furiously, then took a deep breath. "Leave, get out of here. I'd hate for your kid to see you knocked unconscious by a guy who's – God forbid – married to another guy."
The neighbour cleared his throat, then took his daughter's hand again, who blinked up at the two of them fearfully. "Well. Just bear in mind what I –"
"Get the fuck away from my house."
He recoiled, almost pushing his daughter forward as if Voldemort's words had scarred her for life. "How dare you – language in front of my –"
"The things you're saying are far worse than a couple of curses." Voldemort said dangerously. "And if you ever say anything to us like that again I can guarantee you won't be getting away so easily. Now start walking."
The man hesitated for only a second, before promptly hurrying away, Voldemort glaring after the two of them. It was only when he heard crying coming from back inside that he snapped out of it and immediately turned to go back into the house, hurrying over to Wang Mu who was clearly bored of her high-chair.
"Hey, hey." He said, lifting her up. "Sorry about that. I was just saying goodbye to Daddy."
"Down." Was all she said, kicking her little legs. "Papa, down."
"Oh, right, ok." He took her into the living room and placed her down on the floor, sitting down himself. She crawled around for a little while, then made her way back over to him, giggling.
"Daddy found shoes." She said proudly, squealing as he picked her up to place her on his lap.
"Uh-huh, he did." He said, still shaking slightly from all the pent-up anger he felt, stroking her fluffy hair to try and soothe himself.
She blinked up at him and smiled. "Kiss."
He smiled back, kissing the top of her head. When he and Quirrell had first got their daughter, Voldemort had spent the first few months panicking about scaring her because of his face, only opting to hold her when she was asleep. Of course, Wang Mu had been completely oblivious and indifferent to the way he looked. Now he had no such worries.
Her little face suddenly grew solemn and she poked his chest. "Papa sad?"
"Hmm? No, no. I'm fine." He assured her, smiling again. "Why would I be sad, kiddo?"
She shrugged, snuggling against him. "Daddy left."
"He's at work, just like he is pretty much every day. It's no big deal." He lowered his voice, as if he was confessing something. "But yeah, ok. I miss him already. Isn't that dumb?"
Wang Mu shook her head rapidly. "No." She said firmly, then squirmed to go back onto the floor to resume crawling. "Play, Papa."
"Sure." He said, considerably calmer than before as he looked around for his wand. "You wanna get your toys or something?"
"Mm." She murmured, grabbing the edge of the couch and trying to haul her tiny self up onto it.
Voldemort couldn't help but laugh as he moved over to help her up. "There ya go, kid. Oh, you want TV? Yeah?" Fantastic. He was so used to watching all these shitty children shows that he could probably recite every single one that had aired since a year ago.
Wang Mu had snatched up the remote, and was holding it out to him expectantly. "On."
"I'm sorry?"
"On, pleeease."
"That's better. Alright, fine." He held her on his lap again as he leant back into the couch, turning the TV on and finding the right channel. Maybe he could just zone out…Plan some revenge on his stupid fucking neighbour…Speaking of which, he should probably text Quirrell, make sure he was feeling ok after all that.
He shifted slightly, digging around in his pocket to retrieve his phone while some nonsensical programme blared out from the TV, and managed to type something.
Hey, you alright? X
A few moments later he got an abrupt reply.
I'm fine. Can you do me a favour and empty the dishwasher before I get back? I didn't have time this morning.
Voldemort rolled his eyes slightly, not exactly feeling the love, and typed back 'sure' before grumpily putting his phone away. Well, Quirrell was obviously pissed, which really wasn't what they both needed right now. Things had been stressful enough already.
After an hour or so of mindless crap from the television, he suddenly became aware of Wang Mu reaching for something, and jolted awake when he realised she held his wand in her hand. "Hey, hey, hey, no! You don't play with that!" He snatched it off her in a small state of panic in case she hurt herself – you could never be too careful – but evidently he'd been overly abrupt with her because she burst into tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just – this is my wand, Wang, okay? Only your Daddy and I are supposed to use these, not you. C'mon, don't –"
She furiously tried to grab it back from him, still crying. "Play!"
"You can't play with these, they're dangerous. How many times? You could get hurt." He went to put it in his pocket, and that caused her to throw a complete tantrum.
"Play. Want to play!"
"Good for you. You're not getting it." He said firmly over her shrieks. "And if you keep this up you won't be doing anything for the rest of the day."
"Papa!" She futilely tried to reach for it again. "Pleeeeease!"
"No. It's not even that fun, kid, seriously. You have loads of toys to play with. Now settle down, alright?"
She screwed her little face up angrily, then struggled to get out of his arms.
"Now where're you going?"
"Down." She said furiously, "Mean."
"I'm not being mean, Wang Mu. I'm looking after you." He said with a small sigh, "Listen. When you're older you'll get your own wand." He decided to not mention that she wouldn't be able to use it out of school until she was 17. Oh God, all this crying was giving him a headache.
She stopped for a moment, looking at him seriously. "Promise?"
"Yeah, 'course. Now can you stop crying?"
She paused, as if contemplating the idea, then gave a small nod. "Hungry."
"Seriously? You ate, like, not even two hours ago." Realising it would probably be pointless arguing, he sighed and stood up, keeping her in his arms. "Sure, alright. Let's get you something to eat then."
XxX
Quirrell shoved open the front door with his shoulder, both hands occupied with a briefcase and a couple of folders and tiredly kicked it shut behind him. He was about to call out to say he was home when he realised Wang Mu could be asleep, and God knew he didn't want to wake her. In his current mood, the noise alone would probably make him cry from exhaustion.
Setting his items aside, he made his way to the living room to find Voldemort asleep on the couch, the baby monitor next to him. Quirrell allowed himself a moment to just admire him for a bit, then shrugged off his jacket and absent-mindedly draped it over the nearby armchair. He wondered what else had been said between him and their neighbour and hoped things hadn't turned violent. Although, in hindsight, Quirrell didn't think he'd actually mind too much if Voldemort had done something along those lines. The bastard next door deserved it.
He gave Voldemort's forehead a kiss, then made his way to the kitchen to pour himself some water. Except there were no clean glasses. Quirrell scowled to himself, then made his way over to the dishwasher, pulling the lid down. Sure enough, it hadn't been emptied. Fucking hell, did he have to do everything?
"Voldemort!"
He heard his partner practically fall from the couch by the abrupt wake up call, and a few moments later he had entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. "Hey," He mumbled, yawning, "When'd you get home?"
Quirrell gritted his teeth, feeling inexplicably angry and wound up. Even though he was sick of them snapping at each other, there was something inside him that just wanted to vent. And vent he did. "How hard is it? Seriously, how hard is it to just do something that I've asked you to do? You have a fucking wand! It only takes two seconds and you completely ignored my request!"
"What the hell are you going on about?" Voldemort muttered tiredly, "Do I just not get a simple 'hello' from you anymore?"
"Dishwasher!" Was all Quirrell practically yelled in response. "I asked you to empty it for me! And you didn't!"
"What – oh, right. Yeah. Well, I was kinda busy, Quirrell. I can do it now. There's no need to get so worked up about it."
"Don't even bother. Honestly, I ask one thing. Just one –"
"Yeah, well, maybe if you weren't always nagging at me –"
"Nagging at you? It's not nagging if I ask you to do one mundane task like emptying a dishwasher before I get home from work!" Quirrell shot back furiously.
"I AM kinda looking after our daughter 24/7!" Voldemort snapped, "Not that you have to deal with a screaming kid every day, do you? So you have no idea how time-consuming it actually is!"
"That's not fair, Voldemort!" Quirrell could hardly believe Voldemort had just said that to him and for a moment he struggled uselessly, his voice cracking slightly. "You know I have to go to work or we'd be homeless. And…and do you actually think I want to stay in that stupid school for hours every day instead of being home with my family? And I just ask you to do one simple job for me –"
"Be quiet, or you'll wake her up." Voldemort hissed, "The last thing we need is for her to wonder why we're arguing."
"We're not arguing, we're having a discussion." Quirrell muttered, trying not to show how hurt he was.
"Well, are we done with our discussion? Because there's a TV show I want to watch."
"Fine," Quirrell growled, turning away. "I'll empty this myself, then."
"Oh, Wizard God…" Voldemort huffed, moving past him and withdrawing his wand so that the clean plates rose from the machine and landed in their proper places in the cabinets. "Happy?"
"Very." Quirrell replied stiffly. "Thank you." God, how he wanted nothing more than to just hold Voldemort and forget this stupid episode. Or, even better, tackle him on the couch and have some much-needed relief. Maybe the reason they were both so edgy was because they hadn't actually had sex in about a month. "Go and enjoy your show."
"Hmph." Voldemort turned and left him, walking back over to the couch and slumping on it. Quirrell watched him silently for a moment, before hesitantly making his way over to him.
"Voldy?"
"What?" Voldemort grouched, his eyes fixated straight ahead.
"I just –" Quirrell swallowed, staring at the floor. "This sucks."
Voldemort turned his head to look at him and gave him a sudden, grudging smile. "Yeah. I know, Squirrel."
Quirrell sighed in relief as he hurried over and practically flung himself into his husband's arms. "Sorry. I'm sorry for yelling at you like that." He breathed as Voldemort hugged him back equally as hard.
"Me too." Voldemort murmured, running one of his hands through Quirrell's soft hair. "And holy shit, I was a complete dick to you about your job. I didn't mean it, I swear. I know how hard you work and I'm really proud of you for it."
"I was a dick too." Quirrell said miserably. "I…I'm just feeling a bit on angst, I guess."
Voldemort pecked his cheek and murmured "Why?" as he held him tighter.
"Well, c'mon. We haven't been as close lately, at least not as much as we used to be. Y'know, when we just had the time to watch a movie together…Or fuck every week…All we do nowadays is snap at each other."
Voldemort laughed at that. "Ah, Squirrel. I guess we didn't think about all that when we adopted Wang Mu, huh? But I know, I feel the same. We'll just make more of an effort, yeah? Starting right now." He pulled Quirrell in close, giving him a soft kiss, making a pleased noise when Quirrell was the first to open his mouth over Voldemort's to deepen it.
"We haven't kissed like that in ages." Quirrell murmured with a smile once they'd parted. "I've missed it."
"Then we have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?" Voldemort replied as he kissed him again. They slowly made out for a good ten minutes, and then Voldemort's hand was suddenly under Quirrell's shirt, the other gripped in his hair. "Mhm – Quirrell." He managed to pant as he briefly parted from his partner's lips.
"Yeah?"
"Quirrell, Quirrell…my Quirrell…"
"Yeah…"
"You know how we'd fuck every week? Wanna get a head start on that now?"
Quirrell hesitated for a split second, biting his lip. It would be nice – no, it would be brilliant – but… "Dude, I'm…I'm really kinda tired…" He mumbled, unable to look at Voldemort. God, he'd been pining for Voldemort for ages and now he was actually going to deny sex? What the fuck was wrong with him?
Voldemort frowned a little. "Oh. It's just, I mean…so you don't want to top?"
Quirrell looked up sharply to find Voldemort staring back at him with mock innocence. They really hadn't done that in a while and Quirrell suddenly found himself very, very interested. "Are – are you serious?"
"Of course I am, idiot. Why not kick-start the week with you getting some relief? You need it. You deserve it. And hey – right now I really fucking want you." He brushed his thumb across Quirrell's cheekbone as he kissed him again. "So…" He purred, "What do you think?"
"You need to chase after Wang Mu now," Quirrell said back a little hoarsely, "Are you gonna be able to do that tomorrow if I get a little reckless?"
Voldemort chuckled, rubbing his back. "You be as reckless as you fucking want, man. I'll deal with the consequences. And now you've said that…" He added in a growl, beginning to suck Quirrell's neck. "I want."
Quirrell let out a small whine at that, before pushing Voldemort back a bit and kissing him strongly, one arm around his waist. "We should leave the window open so the bastard next door can hear."
"Absolutely. Hey, maybe he'll move out!" They were both panting now through their kisses, which were becoming more and more urgent.
"Yeah! Y'know, he's jealous. He's so jealous. Because I bet his wife hasn't kissed him in years."
"I can't blame her." Voldemort was lying back on the couch now, squirming as Quirrell began to tug off his shirt. "That dick though, that absolute – I mean, how could he – ugh, fuck…"
Quirrell leant down so he could whisper in Voldemort's ear, "What did you do?" before gently biting his earlobe.
Voldemort let out a startled moan, then gave a shake of his head. "Nothing. Not really. I should've…should've done…Quirrell, take off my fucking shirt already, will you?"
Quirrell was about to oblige, when their doorbell suddenly rang and he jolted up in surprise, glancing towards it hesitantly. "Wha –"
"Ignore it." Voldemort groaned, trying to tug him back. "It won't be important. People selling stuff or whatever."
"It's too late for that sort of thing." Quirrell insisted, moving away from a disappointed Voldemort and deciding to just have a quick look, seeing as he was still fully dressed. "I'll be right back."
"Nonono, Quirinus Quirrell, you are not going to answer the door when you've got me this worked up."
"I'll literally be two seconds." Quirrell responded, smirking to himself at how ready to go Voldemort now was because of him, before unlocking the door and opening it to freeze. Because the man from next door was back, only this time with his wife. Shit. "Uh…" He faltered for a moment. "Can I help you?"
The woman offered him a smile and held out her hand. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name's Hilary."
Quirrell looked at her for a moment and didn't shake her hand. "Great. I'm sorry, but we're kind of busy, so…"
"Wait, just one second. Please. We do have a reason for being here." Hilary placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, who stonily remained silent. "I heard what happened this morning, with you and your…"
"Husband."
"Yes. And that's why we've come round here. To apologise."
"You don't need to apologise." Quirrell said to her, glancing at the man. "He insulted us, not you. And if he doesn't even have the guts to say sorry himself, then there's literally no point in you coming over here. So, goodnight."
"Please, can we just come in?"
Voldemort had now stormed up to be by Quirrell's side, his anger clearly winning over any previous lust. "Are you nuts? Get out of here!"
Hilary visibly faltered, clearly realising Voldemort was not one to be messed with. "But, just to –"
"I'm with him on this one." Quirrell said quietly. "I'd really rather you didn't come anywhere near us, never mind inside our home."
"Ok, listen." The man finally spoke up. "We were expecting that. So…so here." He handed Quirrell a small envelope. "I wrote down what I want to say. So…we'll leave now."
Quirrell glowered down at the envelope in his hand. "Well. That was considerate of you."
There was an awkward silence, before the two of them turned and walked back up the path, having said their peace.
Voldemort turned to look at Quirrell with a raised eyebrow. "You wanna read what that creep has to say?"
"No idea…" Quirrell murmured back, already walking back into the living room, leaving Voldemort to close the door and lock it. "I mean, we could, but is there any point? Is it worth it? He can feel as bad as he wants, I still don't like him and I'm never gonna talk to him again."
"Yeah, that's my take on it, too." Voldemort said as he took the envelope from Quirrell's hands. "But we'll hang onto it just in case, huh?"
Quirrell nodded slowly, watching as Voldemort placed the envelope on the table before turning back to him. "So," Voldemort grinned. "Where were we?"
Quirrell grinned too as Voldemort walked back over and wrapped his arms around his waist. "I was gonna make hot and passionate love with my husband." Quirrell purred in Voldemort's ear. "And I wanna get started on that right now, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all." Voldemort raised his eyebrows suggestively, already grabbing Quirrell's hand, brushing over his wedding ring as he did so. As they began to walk up the stairs, he watched Quirrell glance over his shoulder and Voldemort stopped halfway. "You wanna read it, don't you?"
"No."
"You do."
Quirrell glared slightly, then sighed. "Maybe a little. But there really is no point."
"I know, man, I'm curious too. But…yeah."
"We should burn it or something. Just so we're not tempted."
Voldemort frowned at that, and they both looked back at the envelope on the table. "Or…" He said slowly, "We could like…take a little look. See if he really is sorry. And then we can hex his house and shit if he says anything else to us."
"And…" Quirrell continued, equally slowly, "If we don't like what we read, we can have angry sex."
That did it. Voldemort let go of Quirrell's hand and hurried down the rest of the stairs to grab the envelope. "Ok, ok, c'mon, let's go." He said as he snatched it up and returned to the staircase, grabbing Quirrell's hand again and tugging him up to their bedroom.
Quirrell giggled at Voldemort's enthusiasm as he sat down on their bed, before joining him. "Alright. Now remember, he might still say some bigoted shit, so…"
"I know," Voldemort replied as he opened the letter, "We have magic, though. We can get him back."
"It's the kid I feel sorry for." Quirrell muttered as he started trailing his hand up and down Voldemort's strong back underneath his shirt. "Having to grow up listening to all that. How's she gonna turn out? Will she treat people with the same respect as her father?"
Voldemort was already scanning through the contents of the letter, wrinkling his nose. "Oh, hey, get a load of this. He was helping us."
"Huh?" Quirrell frowned, reading over his shoulder. "What the – helping us from our sins? Oh, jeez, is he one of those creeps? Why can't people be free to love whoever the fuck they want without extremists yelling about us being damned for all time?" He dug his nails into Voldemort's back just as a reflex from the rush of anger he felt, then at Voldemort's little yelp of annoyance he instantly stroked it soothingly. "Sorry, sorry, but – for the love of –"
"I know, I know. I've heard it all before at the orphanage." Voldemort scowled at the letter before tearing it up. "Ugh. Well, our curiosity's been satisfied. Serves us right for giving in so easily."
Quirrell sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "Well, I'm pissed off. You?"
"Definitely."
"Right then. Here's what we're gonna do." Quirrell began to tug off Voldemort's t-shirt. "We're gonna have sex, then tomorrow some weird things are gonna happen in next door's house. Doors slamming, creepy noises, the works. He'll move out within…oh, a month or two, I'd say."
Voldemort raised his eyebrows, before lifting his arms so his t-shirt could be pulled off. "How very evil of you," He drawled, "I'm impressed. And a little turned on because of it."
"Only a little? I'd better do some more work then." Quirrell grinned, before grabbing the back of his head and pulling him in for a long, deep kiss.
XxX
Quirrell seemed to have a knack for telling the future, because in the space of three months, after a lot of fun jinxing certain parts of the house next door, Voldemort was more than satisfied when he spotted a 'For Rent' sign outside of it.
He held Wang Mu as he glanced out of the window, having just noticed the sign, and looked down at her. "See that? No one is mean to your daddies. And no one's gonna be mean to you because of us, either. Men can love men. Girls can love girls. People can love both, or sometimes neither of 'em. It
doesn't matter. But sometimes, people don't like that. I dunno why, but there it is. Some people just can't understand."
Wang Mu blinked at him, then stared at the house. "Papa loves Daddy."
"Uh-huh."
"Daddies love me too."
"That is very true. See? Having two daddies or two mommies isn't bad at all, is it?"
"No. Good." Wang Mu nodded, satisfied, and then kicked her little feet. "Down."
"Sure," Voldemort said, before smirking at the 'For Rent' sign again.
Success.