[mp] one that suits [will]

10 december 2003

“She’s so hard to buy for.” Mrs Flume. Honey was complaining, not for the first time that night; she always had a hard time figuring out what to get her mother for Christmas. Usually it didn’t matter anyway because inevitably, her brother would get their mum something better, but Honey was trying. She couldn’t just give her a box of chocolates, either, like she could do for anyone else, or like Will was doing for his mum. Honey had received his owl order a couple days ago, which had given her the brilliant idea of asking him for ideas because out of everyone she could ask, Will had actually met her mum.

That, and she’d been angling for an excuse to go to the little festival in Diagon Alley and she was caught up on all the work that could be done.

She hadn’t intentionally worn the jumper Will had gifted her a couple years ago, hadn’t realized it until they were already half an hour into their shopping. As long as they stayed outside and her coat stayed on, he didn’t have to know. They were doing this as friends, because there were only so many times they could get coffee before it started feeling repetitive.

“I just don’t think a--” she squinted to read the sign one more time before she looked back to Will, sticking mittened hands in her pocket-- “nut-filled advent calendar really says, ‘I’m successful, sorry you’re not shopping for your wee grandchildren’.” She rolled her eyes and nudged him to move toward the next stall, despite how impressive the craftsmanship of some of the (mildly terrifying to look at) nutcrackers might have been.

Honey pointed across the crowd at another stall. “Gingerbread portraits.” She said it with a touch of distaste, both that it wasn’t fitting as a gift for her mother and Honey hadn’t thought of gingerbread portraits first. “Merlin, why don’t I have a stall here?” Because she was too busy already, and needed all her employees at the shop starting tomorrow, when they could start on fulfilling owl orders in earnest.

The next stall was selling cocoa, with an optional alcohol addition, and Honey tilted her head toward that because even if she had no idea what to buy her mother, she knew exactly what to buy herself.

@William Dasher

"Mine too," Will sympathised but not really meaning it. His mum was pretty easy to buy for because she loved Honey's chocolates. Will got her the same thing every year but his mum was still thrilled when she opened in on Christmas morning all the same. He was holding a few shopping bags from various places - a cashmere scarf for his sister, new and fancy illustrating pens for his brother and a bottle of whiskey for his dad. He still needed to get Honey something but he could hardly do it when she was standing right next to him.

As Honey explained the advent calendar, he grimaced. "No one wants a nut-filled advent calendar," he said politely before he snorted with laughter. "She's still on about grandkids?" He smiled as they walked. "Just say Fergie's working on giving her some," he joked.

It was freezing in London that day and Will snuggled back down into his smart navy peacoat and adjusted his scarf to sit a little higher on his neck, pulling down the brim of his flat cap to sit more securely on his head.

"Oooh," Will cooed as he brightened, the same time as Honey looked disgusted. "That's a great idea," he offered brightly. "Though I'm not sure I'd be able to eat my own face," he commented before he flashed her a grin. "Because you don't need one," he nodded. "You're busy and successful and you're going to do gingerbread portraits next Christmas instead and make them infinitely better."

He followed her and was instantly interested by the idea of spiked cocoa. Interested, he stood behind her and frowned thoughtfully at the menu. He didn't know what whipped cream vodka was but he wanted to find out. "I think I'm going to get rum in mine," he declared. "Which one do you want? Or we can share," he offered, hands automatically going for his wallet before he stopped. "Does your mum miss anything from Scotland?" Will asked Honey, wondering if that was a stupid question since her parents had ditched Caledonia for warmer climes. "You could maybe pack up a little hamper or something?" He ventured. "I like those little tea cake things. The ones in the silver and red wrappers."

“Aye.” She was still on about grandkids. Was Will’s mum really any different? But she laughed when he suggested putting her on Fergie’s case instead. “If I told her that she’d probably ask for proof.” Honey made a gagging sound to show her interest in the subject; as much as she told her brother about her own love life--to make him uncomfortable--she heard nothing about his. He was probably trying to lead by example, show her that she didn’t need to share so much information with him but if anything, it only served to make her wonder if he was sleeping with anyone ever. But she didn’t need to get into those details with WIll.

He was as supportive as ever as she lamented not having her own stall at the market, telling her the truth--she was busy and successful--and embellishing it a bit, too--she would do gingerbread portraits next year. Actually, maybe that wasn’t embellishment, or even a bad idea. She filed it away for later, something to work on once the holidays were over.

Cocoa was better than worrying about presents, at least. Honey scanned the menu and her eyes went immediately to the whisky option, but whipped cream vodka seemed like the kind of sickly sweet liquor that only she could love. She wasn’t a huge fan of rum so sharing didn’t sound ideal (never mind she wanted a whole one to herself anyway), so she shrugged one shoulder, glancing back to Will. “The vodka one, but you can try it.” She looked at him for another second before she started rummaging in her bag for her coin purse, enough indication that she could buy her own.

She shrugged again. “I don’t think so.” Her mother was funny that way, not really all too homesick. “Whatever she’s missing she usually gets from my gran and granda. Or one of her siblings.” She had six, and every single one of them thought sending Mrs Flume Scottish things put them at the peak of their gifting game.

But tea cakes: “Yeah, maybe.” Honey smiled at the suggestion, but truthfully Mrs Flume would probably balk at being given anything store bought if Honey could have made it herself. And while she had made tea cakes for the Games, she didn’t make them regularly--the meringue didn’t last long enough to be good for business--but even if she did, her mother would probably think it was just leftover Christmas inventory, not something Honey had made specifically for her. She was right back round to Mrs Flume being impossible to buy for.

Honey ordered and paid for her cocoa, lingering next to Will while he ordered, hands back in her pockets. They moved to the side to wait on their drinks. “I got her perfume last year.” It had been a stretch of an idea but Honey thought it smelled nice and that the thought was there; it hadn’t been cheap, anyway. “But Dad says she hasn’t worn it.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged again.

"Oh no," Will replied with a good-natured laugh and a shake of his head. "Mums, eh?" He smiled gently. He couldn't say he had the same problem as Honey. After his string of failed relationships, his mother had tactfully dropped the subject with gentle prodding from his father. She still had the same sympathetic look on her face at birthdays and Easter. It was one of the reasons why he was skipping the country next week.

Plus, Fergie was a genuinely lovely guy. Will had been meaning to see if he was free for a drink but it had been so long now, it would almost be weird.

Honey had her money out and he flushed, embarrassed. His idea was a bad one and he wasn't surprised that it might offend her mother. Will nodded in silence as he looked around the stalls, not completely sure if there was anything here he wanted to buy. Though he'd always liked those little star shaped paper lanterns with the holes punched in them. And he had spied a cute little coffee cup with the London outline etched on it and he made a mental note to loop around and pick it up.

"Thanks mate," Will said with a smile as he reached out to take his cup, deciding against the whipped cream as he cautiously blew across the surface of it. With his cup halfway to his mouth, he winced. "Ah," he said gently. He could sympathise. Though rather than his mother, it had been for an ex-girlfriend. Will didn't know that buying a scent was like a minefield, just like flowers or jewellery - he couldn't get anything right, either.

"Sounds a bit like mission impossible," he joked as his big dark eyes strayed momentarily, focusing briefly on the passerbys and then the stalls. Will frowned as he sipped at his hot chocolate and swallowed, momentarily surprised by how strong the rum was and turned his head to discreetly cough into his elbow.

"I spotted some local booze," he ventured. Bottles of cherry wine and spiced rum. He didn't think Mrs. Flume was a big drinker and it was probably too warm for mulled wine in the Balearics but he tilted his head as he weighed up the options. "Those are cute," he offered as he pointed to a stall selling miniature Christmas houses. They were all set up to mirror Diagon Alley for this market - little shops, houses, carol singers, a church, all lit up from within. Together, they made what looked like a village.

In all fairness, they were very nice but Will hadn't even put his Christmas tree up yet. In actual fact, he wasn't sure he was going to bother. "I need to buy a wreath, as well," he told Honey in an effort to get her to remind him. He could at least look like he was in a festive mood if he stuck one on the front door. "What about a nice set of champagne flutes?" He offered as he jerked his head towards a stall selling crystalware. "If she doesn't like them, you can have them," he shrugged as he sipped his cocoa.

Will said no to whipped cream, but Honey hadn’t followed suit, had even ordered extra. (Her mittens were the only thing stopping her from sticking a finger in the dollop on top of her drink.) She had a sip and wiped off her upper lip, shrugging as Will offered more sympathy than help. His ah was telling, but it didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.

“Aye.” It really was impossible; that was what she had been getting at. She had another sip of her hot chocolate, vaguely wondering if it was too late to go back for another shot of vodka.

She couldn’t buy her mum alcohol. Her mum was the one who turned her off appreciating alcohol as a gift. It was what someone bought when they didn’t know what else to get (and while she had no other ideas, she wasn’t that desperate yet). At least she had put some thought into that perfume, even if it hadn’t gone over well in the end. Still, Will had gifted Honey wine once upon a time so she didn’t say anything, had another sip of her drink.

Will pointed out another stall and she followed his finger with her gaze. He wasn’t wrong, at least. There was a little model of every Diagon Alley shop, little accessories, what looked like real snow falling over it. Was it a good gift for her mum, though? Not really. She didn’t want to flat out tell him it wasn’t a great idea. “Sure, but--” she gave the little buildings another once over-- “There’s no Honeydukes.” She turned back to Will and rolled her eyes. “Not gonna buy her a mini Flourish and Blotts.” That much should have been obvious, anyway.

But he needed to buy a wreath. Honey latched onto that, about to suggest they do exactly that when he continued offering her suggestions. She nodded, grinning as he suggested she keep the flutes for herself if her mum didn’t like them, as if she could take back a gift she had already given. There were other less-than-ideal aspects of his suggestion. “I don’t know if the Flumes are a champagne-at-home kind of family,” she said with a laugh. She  certainly didn’t have any fancy glassware at home and her parents entertained her and Fergie, mostly. Mum’s sangria was best out of a (very) large wine glass.

“Let’s find a wreath,” she said, nudging him to keep walking after she had another sip of her drink. She didn’t have any at home--wreaths on the windows blocked the sweets she was trying to sell-but she still had plenty of opinions about what a good wreath looked like. Amazingly enough, she didn’t love the first one they came across, a bright pink monstrosity that was slowly emitting gold sparks. She pointed at it anyway. “That one, definitely.”

Get it together, Will. That must be strike three. He thought he knew Honey pretty well but it was like everything she'd ever told him about her family had fallen out of his head. Falling silent, he sipped his hot chocolate as he glanced around absently. Spending time with her as friends wasn't as easy as he'd originally hoped. They were much better at this when they'd been drinking. How judgemental would the stall holder be if he asked for another shot of rum?

He lingeried by the display of little shops, sorely wanting to buy a mini Flourish and Blotts, even as Honey sounded disparaging about it. Will offered her a wan smile - he knew that deep down. No one really owned champagne flutes any more because it wasn't the 19th century.

"Just me, then," he joked. Will had once gone through a fairly chaotic and obsessive desire to learn all about making cocktails. As a result, he had the whole shebang - hiball glasses, martini glasses, gin glasses, tumblers, coupes, a stainless steel shaker and strainer set. To make matters worse, his cocktails were still horrific, even with all the gear and a manual.

Honey pointed to a wreath and Will almost felt his eyes pop out of his head. "It's --" trailing off, his eyes widened. "Pink," he announced, sounding both exasperated and disgusted.  It wasn't a festive colour. He was strictly a red, green and gold kind of man. Silver if he absolutely had to.

Inquisitive, he ducked to poke it with a long index finger. "Why is this the ugliest thing I've ever seen?" He whispered to Honey as the stall holder was busy wrapping up a similar wreath to the one they were looking at and Will didn't have time to fix his face before his grimace showed. "Do you think that'll set itself on fire?" He asked gently, wondering if the little gold sparks might do him a favour and blow itself up.

"I love this," he declared as he picked up a length of fuschia coloured tinsel. On it was a collection of little plastic Santas, set between little chimneys and the occasional little wrapped present. They were miniscule and oddly endearing. "I think that's her favourite colour," he told Honey as he delicately draped the tinsel around her neck with care, as though it was made of diamonds. Grinning again, he adjusted it for her. "Gorgeous," he smiled before he was distracted again.

Will picked through the offerings on the stall, from dried orange slices to gaudy Christmas decorations. The woman who owned this stall definitely had an aesthetic. Without realising, one of his fingers accidentally hooked into the loop of a little decoration and he tilted it, glancing over at Honey to see that she wasn't looking. It was a no brainer. Swiftly, he paid for it. It was silly but it was cute. With a smile at the stallholder, he folded the paper bag and held it out to her. "Happy Christmas."

Pink, he noted. “It sure is,” she agreed with a laugh, enjoying how offended he seemed by it. She leaned in as he whispered to her, and she stayed close as she whispered back: “You don’t like it?” She straightened up and laughed again, watching the wreath spark and continue not catching fire. “Seems not.” There was no way she was leaving this market without buying this wreath for him; she’d stick it to his door with a permanent sticking charm while he was on holiday if she needed to. “I kind of like it,” she said with a shrug, still looking at it and genuinely liking it more the longer she looked at it. It really would look good with the shop--it was pink--but again, she wasn’t about to block the window displays with decorations.

Will picked up a length of pink tinsel; “Ooh.” Pink seemed to be this woman’s favorite color, but it was Honey’s, too. “Nothing wrong with that.” She grinned, kept grinning as he draped the tinsel around her neck, adding a nice pop of color to the grey scarf she was wearing. She pulled her hair out from under it, switching her cocoa from hand to hand to use both; it was difficult to do with mittens but she managed after a few seconds. Gorgeous, he said, and it didn’t count as flirting for her to agree.

It looked like there could actually be something she wanted to buy at this stall--it was a lot of knick knacks and ornaments and assorted things--and she paused as her gaze fell on a few ‘family portrait’ ornaments, apparently customizable with hair color, freckles, whatever, while still being artsy and anonymous enough. (The Flumes were easy, at least; Mr Flume was the only one without some shade of red hair, and only because his had gone white.)

She was distracted from the ornaments by Will; she glanced at the bag and back up to him with a smile. “I didn’t get you anything--” yet, but she took the bag anyway, assuming she could open it now if he wasn’t bothering to wait until Christmas to give it to her. She pulled the unicorn out of the bag and grinned; it was cute and it would have looked nice with that Nessie keychain he had given her, if she hadn’t chucked it out the first chance she got (because she was mad at him), but he didn’t need to know that. “It’s great,” she said, slipping it back into the bag. “I’ll put it up in the store.” She didn’t have a tree upstairs, so that would have to do. “I’m just gonna--” she pointed at the ornaments and let him figure it out for himself that she was buying something.

Honey bought the ornament and the wreath (and the tinsel she was still wearing); she would have to pick everything up later. That was all her shopping done and considering Will had been carrying three or four bags for ages, she assumed he could be done, too. “I’ve got to wait on the ornament,” she said, glancing at him before scanning the market again. She didn’t want to go to the carnival side and the ice sculptures sounded boring. “Do you want to get a drink?” She looked at her hot chocolate, then at his. “These don’t count,” she added, catching his eye again.

"It's not bad," Will whispered to her, his face betraying his words. It was jarring. Aware that he'd be offending a lot of people, he simply didn't think pink was Christmassy. Nor did he think white Christmas trees or people putting feathered ornaments on it was particularly festive. "But it's not exactly good," he replied diplomatically, catching the look in Honey's eye. When told that she'd liked it, he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"It'll look good at the shop," he agreed and he wasn't lying about that but she liked the tinsel and he grinned. "I remember," he said gently, tapping his temple. He remembered a lot of little things about her but none of them seemed important. "It suits you," he said with a smile, he reached out to help her by brushing a lock of her hair over her shoulder that had been caught between a Santa and a chimney. It was an automatic action and one he'd have to wean himself off if they were going to make this friendship work this time around.

Honey took the bag and he blinked in mild alarm. "You don't have to," he said with a lopsided smile with a shake of his head. It was just something small, a token really, but he was glad that she liked it. Will wasn't sure if they were at the point in this that they could exchange gifts. He assumed cards were fine, he'd post one to Scotland sometime that week, but he couldn't help himself. His smile softened at Honey's assurance that she'd hang it somewhere and he believed her.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said distractedly as he took a neat step back. The little ornaments were a cute idea, her mum would like it, but he turned his back to give her some privacy as he looked up at the sky, hands shoved into his pockets. More snow looked possible that afternoon. He stomped his feet to keep warm as he drained the last of his hot chocolate from his cup as Honey came back to his side.

"Yes," he said, perhaps a bit too eagerly, as he tossed his empty cup into a nearby bin. It was Christmas, he was allowed to drink at any hour of the day. He nodded his head in the direction of the pub as he fell into step beside her. "I want to see if they got your freckles right," he smiled, meaning the ornament she was waiting on. "Sorry I wasn't much help," Will said, sounding genuinely apologetic about agreeing to help her with her shopping, only to be more of a hindrance. She got there in the end, though. She always did.

"Who else have you got to buy for?" He asked Honey conversationally as they walked. He still had to buy something for Piper but he didn't mention it. He was still wondering if he could send Nice a card. Would Honey be sending Harlan a gift this year? He suddenly decided he'd rather not know.  Politely, he held the door open for her to enter, brushing aside the ball of mistletoe, tied with a white ribbon that was hanging from the doorframe, as the warm air rushed up to meet him, causing him to whip off his hat.

Honey smiled when Will agreed to a drink, not reading into how quickly he said it. She wasn’t ready to be alone yet; she was in London and she didn’t have complete faith in herself to make good decisions if she were left to her own devices because she was going to be drinking with or without him. (She only briefly considered popping round her brother’s place, which would have been the smartest idea.) She kept smiling as he mentioned her freckles. Going out Honey would normally wear more makeup, cover the freckles up, but she knew Will liked them. She allowed herself that one concession in exchange for (mostly) not flirting with him.

They headed back the direction they came and she took another sip of her hot chocolate. “You were plenty help,” she said, hoping to cut him off before he kept apologizing. They were past all that. “You helped me figure out what not to buy,” she insisted with a smirk. She paused next to a bin to finish off her hot chocolate and touched Will’s elbow when she was ready to start walking again.

“That’s everyone.” She was forgetting that she said she hadn’t bought anything for Will just a few minutes ago, but hopefully he wouldn’t read into that too much because she had literally just bought him something. “Most everyone’s easy, sending Honeydukes favorites.” Their favorites, not hers. “Just doesn’t really work on the Flumes.” They had all had their fill of Honeydukes and now she had to exhibit some originality. Or, mostly; she bought Fergie a variation of the same things every year: sweets from somewhere foreign and a Swiss Army knife. This would be the fifth year in the ‘alphabet’ collection, in which she hoped he was assuming he’d be getting one inscribed with an I to go along with the F, E, R, and G ones he already had-- but she was going with spelling out Ferguson, buying herself a couple more years before she needed a new idea.

Then she’d bought her mum that ornament, and she’d got her dad that record-- “Actually, I might need to get my dad something still,” she said distractedly, still at odds with the record being a good idea or not. She looked at the closest stall as they passed it, as if it would have a good alternative. She shrugged and faced forward again.

The Leaky Cauldron was warmer than she remembered it being when she had first arrived earlier that afternoon, and Honey unwrapped her scarf (and tinsel) after smiling at Will for holding the door. She unbuttoned her coat on their way to the bar, remembering belatedly the jumper she was wearing. They couldn’t be friends if she couldn’t wear a jumper he’d bought her without it being a big deal, she figured, mostly trying to convince herself it wasn’t weird.

She got the barkeeper’s attention and turned back to Will as they waited to order. “You need to buy for anyone else?” Not that she’d have any ideas, other than the obvious Honeydukes options.

"I did?" He asked in mild surprise as he blinked at her, only to laugh soon after. Will placed a hand over his heart as though thoroughly wounded but Honey did have a point - he was a shit gift giver. The thought was there, just the execution was a bit off. She was actually fairly lucky he hadn't bought her many things. "In that case, you're welcome," he said gamely, taking it in his stride.

Will nodded as Honey explained everything was wrapped up (no pun intended.) "I've still got to send some cards to a couple of people," he went on to say. One to his nan in France, some old school friends, clients, colleagues and the like. "I might actually do that tonight. It's not like I have anything else on," he added lightly before he winced. "I can imagine," he told Honey sympathetically. It had always boggled his mind how anyone could tire of chocolate but then, having grown up around sweets all their lives, getting something from the shop seemed a bit...thoughtless.

Honey mentioned her dad and he looked at her quickly. "Changed your mind?" She'd said everyone was sorted previously but all dads were difficult to buy for. Will folded his cap and placed it into the pocket of his coat, which he unzipped and shrugged off, catching sight of Honey's jumper and he laughed again - loud and deep - in genuine amusement.

"Get out of town," he said in amazement as he playfully plucked at her shoulder. Her wearing an old gift he'd given her wasn't weird - he was wearing a cashmere scarf an ex-girlfriend had given him - but he couldn't help but grin all the same. A little spurt of something that felt like excitement, wonder and smugness bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. "It'll match your ornament," he joked as they stood at the bar, neatly folding his coat over the arm he had resting against it. With a grin, he shook his head. "I can't believe you still have that," he commented, pride swelling in his chest and he allowed himself to feel a bit smug.

"A pint of Welsh Green please, mate," Will announced to the bartender, looking back over to the redhead. "I need cards more than anything," he admitted. He wasn't usually a clumsy or forgetful man, but they always seemed to slip his mind. "I saw some cute ones with Diagon Alley on them in the snow," he told Honey, wiggling his fingers to imitate falling snow before he hesitated.

"Er --" he blushed quickly as he cleared his throat. "Just the one," he answered vaguely as he scratched his chin. If they were going to be friends, he didn't want to keep secrets. "Her name's Piper," he finally admitted, wondering why he felt weird saying her name. "We're not dating," he clarified, as if Honey cared.  "But we go way back." How long had it been now? Five, six years? Any normal person would have admitted defeat by now but he sent gifts, every Christmas and birthday, like a lovesick teenager. He was careful to keep the details mysterious. Will remembered how she'd reacted when he spoke about Bérénice and he didn't want her to have to go through it again. Selfishly, neither did he.

"Just something small," Will finally said, flapping his hand in the air to dismiss the entire last three minutes. It was one thing helping someone shop for their parents but then shopping for someone they liked? There must be dozens of lines that would cross. "What do you reckon about sharing a bowl of chips?" He asked as their drinks were delivered and he picked up his pint and took a large gulp.

Will spotted her jumper--she shouldn’t have been too surprised because the jumper was loud--and Honey grinned, shrugging one shoulder. She was still adamant that it wasn’t a big deal, and she was happy to make him happy, and at least she could take her coat the rest of the way off now that there wasn’t going to be some big reveal. “Coincidence, promise,” she said, heading off any assumptions he could make about her wearing something he had bought her.

She paid no notice to the touch to her shoulder--or, only some notice, but she kept her eyes on his face, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed--instead questioning him when he said it would match the ornament she’d just bought. “Will it?” It took her a second of confusion before she realized he meant the ornament he bought, the one she was still holding, and she smiled again: “Oh. It will.” She shrugged one more time. “I love a good jumper.” When was the last time she’d gotten rid of one? Not since the early eighties, surely, and only because she had outgrown it.

He ordered the Welsh Green and Honey ordered the Welsh Green Apple, the cider superior to the ale, and turned back to Will, leaning sideways against the bar as they waited. Honey nodded as he said he needed cards; he had literally just said he was going to send some tonight because he had nothing else on and again, Honey decided not to tell him he was doing something now. “I saw some with Hogsmeade in the snow,” she countered, complete with a wiggle of her fingers.

And he needed just one more gift-- and her name was Piper. Honey raised her eyebrows and he answered her question before she could ask it: they weren’t dating. “How far back?” She asked instead. He had never mentioned her, at least, and they had known each other how long now? Nearly three years? Never mind they hadn’t hashed out their histories and there was plenty Honey hadn’t told him, but that was beside the point.

He was just going to get her something small, and Honey nodded once. “Right.” He was trying not to overdo it, but still remind Piper he cared. Wait-- Piper? Piper Piper? “Do you mean--” He cut her off, asking if she wanted chips. “Aye,” she agreed, waving her hand to stop him from asking anything else to distract her. “Piper Morel?” How many Pipers could there be, really? Meeting a muggle version would require him going out more, and she didn’t think that really fit.

Rather than answer, he offered her a smile. Coincidence sounded right and he wasn't conceited enough to think Honey had worn it for any other reason that it was incredibly cozy. The pub was warm and busy and Honey had ordered a cider and he'd laughed, both at the familiarity and her wiggling fingers. "I'll get those, then," he answered as he sipped at his pint, looking at her quickly.

"My maths is bad," he joked but it was clear on his face as he backtracked, eyes unfocused as he frowned thoughtfully. "It's got to have been at least five years." Will vividly remembered being in his mid-twenties, a time before he'd grown his ill thought out goatee of despair. "Maybe a little bit more," he added casually as he drank. He didn't make a habit of remembering things that had upset him in the past.

Will handed over some coins as he retrieved some cutlery wrapped in napkins from the bartender, pausing to furrow his eyebrows in confusion at Honey's actions. "Just tomato sauce, please," he told the man behind the bar before he blinked. "You know her?" Will asked incredulously before he remembered two things - wizarding London wasn't that big and secondly, Honey might read Piper's magazine.

"You two are friends?" Will asked Honey lightly, tempted to ask her if she could put in a good word for him with Piper before he shot the idea down immediately. Talk about being rude. "Last I heard, she was some sort of editor," he spoke before he continued to drink, enjoying the faint aftertaste of citrus in the beer. Will could just stop by her offices because they worked in the same city, albeit different ends of it, but that might be a bit...creepy.

"She's nice, isn't she?" He asked Honey with a smile. Will and Piper were a lot more similar than Will and Honey but that didn't mean she was any better for him. "Ah, thanks," he said with a bright smile as the chips appeared, wasting no time in sprinkling some salt and popping one into his mouth, nodding to the bowl in an invitation that Honey help herself.

He said it had been at least five years--why did five years feel like it was a recurring thought of late?--and Honey raised one eyebrow. He went on, telling her that maybe it had been longer than that, and she lifted her other eyebrow to match. Five years--or more--was nothing to sneeze about, even with the distractions along the way, because there must have been more to it than he was letting on if the first thing out of his mouth had been to reassure her that they weren’t dating. Honey smirked softly before she had a long sip of her drink.

Will got the chips sorted and Honey had another sip of her drink before he clarified on which Piper. The corner of her mouth pulled up when he asked if she knew her. “Aye.” She didn’t elaborate, figuring his mind would wander, probably worrying how well they knew each other. And there it was: you two are friends? “Aye,” she said again. Friends enough that it wouldn’t be weird or out of the question to have a drink together. She thought about Will and Piper together-- not like that, or maybe a little like that, but mostly that the idea of them actually made some sense.

“You don’t know?” Honey raised an eyebrow again, not believing that Will thought Piper was just some sort of editor. He was probably just trying to ease the blow to Honey, or something like that; she thought he had done the same thing the last time she had asked him about another woman he had been interested in. “Seems like you should know if you’re at Christmas gifting levels.” She smirked, not letting him have that one.

Honey agreed that she was nice. “She is,” Again, she thought they made some sort of sense. Far more than Will and Honey had, anyway (never mind that for a time, Honey thought they had made perfect sense). It had been a while since she had seen Piper, but maybe she should owl her, get together after the holidays, get her side of things because it was always nice to be interested in someone else’s romantic life when she was ignoring her own.

“She wrote about me for her magazine this summer,” she said before popping a chip in her mouth. Piper had written about Charlie too, but that wasn’t related to her own write up, nor was it something she wanted to think about now. But it reminded her of something else and prompted her to add: “A good article this time.” They could joke about that now, right? She had apologized for things by now.

"Not good enough friends, apparently," he joked with a soft smile as he became momentarily mesmerised by his pint and how the winter sunshine reflected off it. Honestly? He didn't really know what Piper was up to - who she was dating, what she was working on, where she lived - they'd stopped writing to each other a long time ago. "I should probably make more of an effort," Will acquiesced. The fact that Honey seemed to know Piper more than he knew Piper was both strange and uncomfortable. It had no right to be, obviously, but he shifted on his stool all the same.

"Oh?" Will asked in mild surprise. "That's exciting," he said gamely as he picked up another chip and blew across the surface of it before dunking it in the ketchup. "How'd you get on?" He asked with a smile. Honey didn't need the publicity, her shop was doing exceptionally well on its own, but he was wondering if he could order an old copy or something. Will didn't have any secrets but he couldn't admit to being jazzed that two of his ex-girlfriends were mates. He wasn't conceited enough to think he'd be the subject of conversation but it niggled him.

"What was it about?" He asked, interested, but paused with a chip halfway to his mouth at Honey's next comment. His initial reaction wasn't horror. Instead, he laughed, loud and deep because it had caught him off guard.

Will didn't apologise for his laughter because it had been funny and besides, that was all in the past. He flashed her a grin before he rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head.  "We've been through a lot, haven't we?" He asked Honey conversationally as he traced intricate and invisible patterns with his finger on the bar. "I didn't think we'd get to this point," he added with a smile. The realisation had hit him in the early hours one morning, months ago - he'd rather have Honey in his life than not. And that was all there was to it.

The interview had been about a lot of things, but it had especially touched on the societal pressure of owning a business as a woman-- she wasn’t about to say that, though. It sounded so stuffy when she put it like that. She had liked the article, of course, and Piper had done a great job; it had been fun to catch up and she really did want to do it again (the catching up). Instead of mentioning any of that, Honey told Will it had been a good article this time. That was easier.

Honey returned his grin and had another swallow of her drink. Her eyebrows went up as she set her glass back on the bar, almost caught off guard that he’d taken their conversation there. They had been through a lot, yes, and most of it was by Honey’s hand, but he was being so casual about it, bringing it up now. (He had caused the most spectacular scene, but she wasn’t about to suggest they were somehow even when it came to putting each other through things).

“What point is that?” She glanced at what he was doing with his finger on the bar before she looked back to his face, catching his smile. “Having chips in a pub before we go home alone?” She offered him a soft smirk and a small shrug before she took another drink. She was honestly curious how long this was sustainable; she had varying levels of success trying to be friends with men she used to sleep with, never mind dated for a spell.

“You don’t have to,” she said around a mouthful of chip. She meant it in the go home alone sense, and she wasn’t suggesting he go home with her, either. “That hen’s been checking you out since we got here.” Honey nodded in direction behind him. She had looked over maybe once or twice, certainly hadn’t been checking him out, but-- “Swap seats with me,” she said, not asking. Honey could have spent their hour having drinks making eyes but she needed to work tonight instead of get distracted, and maybe she would be checking him out if she could see him properly. (And maybe there was a small part of her that wanted to check on his we’re not dating excuse from a few minutes ago.)