WHO: Jeremiah Whitehorn and Miles Lufkin
WHAT: Planning the adventure of a lifetime!
WHERE: Euro Cup pitch!
After all the celebrating and partying was said and done, and the crowds had cleared out to head back home to their real lives now that the cup had ended, Jeremiah snuck back into the pitch. He had spent the last hour lying on his back staring up at the sky. Realistically he should be packing, getting ready to head back home himself, but he couldn’t find the motivation to do so.
He felt like if he packed his bags and left Istanbul behind, this illusion that Wales won the Eurocup would shatter. He couldn’t believe it. He had all the faith in the world in his teammates, but he was also realistic. Wales was hardly the favorites to win. He couldn’t express his relief that they didn’t have to go up against Ireland or England, both of which seemed to have unfairly stacked teams. He was still worried that someone might still come up and inform him that there was a mistake and he had to give his medal back.
He startled hearing the footsteps of someone approaching behind him. Damn, someone was here to kick him out, because they sure as hell weren’t taking his medal. The number of saves he made in the last five weeks was ridiculous, and he deserved it for that alone. He tilted his head back to see if it was someone he could possibly convince to let him stay just a little longer.
“Oh hey,” he grinned spotting a familiar face. “What brings you out at this time of night?”
While Miles did not particularly like losing, he was rather graceful at it. He had that c’est la vie personality; mostly because he refused to let himself get stressed over things he could not change. It rolled off his shoulders like rain droplets! They had put up a good fight, he had played phenomenally, but it was just not France’s time.
Besides, they had beaten England and that was all he needed to take from this tournament.
He had gone in search of his teammate from the Pride, to congratulate him and invite him to join in on what might be the greatest idea he’d ever had. Miles, in his many years, had concocted quite a few brilliant schemes, though some might say they were foolhardy and dangerous. Sometimes, they were one in the same. This idea however, would only enlighten him and he believed that Jeremiah would appreciate the adventure. Since joining the Pride, Miles had taken the other bloke under his wing; sure, Jeremiah was three years older than him, but Miles knew things. He was worldly, especially when it came to women.
Jeremiah didn’t need too much coaching on the quidditch end of things, but the poor bloke had been a mess when it came to talking to the ladies. Miles had been more than happy to help him out, and while it started off as a teasing thing, he had actually started to care about his teammates’ rendezvous and his various attempts to talk to the ladies. Miles, pun completely intended, took great pride in assuring that his teammates were in good, lively standings. He was fiercely protective of Arista, even if they did have their history of epic squabbles. They were the people he spent the most time with, so of course he grew to care about them. The Pride were a loyal, sometimes arrogant bunch, but they had every right to be.
Of course.
He stood over Jeremiah, grinning. Miles stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking from foot to foot, “I have a proposition for you,” he said, getting jittery just at the thought, “How keen are you about heading back home?”
Jeremiah rose a brow watching Miles shift back and forth. He had never seen him fidgety before, which was part concerning, part intriguing. He wasn’t exactly sure where this was heading. He wasn’t really expecting to see Miles until he had gotten back to England. The last time they were on opposing teams, they weren’t even friends, so Jeremiah didn’t really care how Miles would be feeling after losing to him, and he was sure it worked both ways. He wasn’t sure how to act with the game so freshly in their memories.
Although Miles didn’t seem upset, actually he seemed almost giddy. Which would be slightly terrifying if he didn’t know Miles like he did. He did know Miles, right? He shook the thought from his head, because that was ridiculous.
Even if he was some sort of mind reader, as he was just thinking about how he was never leaving this spot, ever. “Well considering that I wasn’t planning to pack my bags until they threw me out of the hotel, not particularly.”
Yes! Precisely the response Miles had been looking for. Who on earth wanted to head back to stuffy old England after spending a glorious month in beautiful Istanbul? There were so many more things to discover, and so much time to explore before the quidditch season started back up again. Miles had taken the past year as his time to become enlightened, refreshed; being under Catriona McCormack’s sharp-nailed thumb had crushed his spirit, and now he was free to breath easy and have the bloody time of his life.
“I am going on an adventure,” he said, crossing his arms. Miles’ eyebrows were high, unable to hide his grin of excitement. “With the three months until we are forced back onto the field, I am planning to trek across this great continent with as minimal supplies as possible.”
He himself knew that there was a great chance he would lose this urge to backpack and hitch hike, and end up in some grand hotel; but really, he could do so much worse than splurge on a nice place to stay. But, the plan was to really making the trip with his wits and charm, and hopefully Jeremiah would be there to help him along.
“And since we are now friends and I do not find you as highly irritating as I once did,” he shrugged; it was true. Jeremiah had come a long way, “I am inviting you to come along.”
Jeremiah arched a brow propping himself up on his elbows intrigued. An adventure was definitely a better option than going directly home. His face fell slightly, as Miles did a terrible job at even bothering to attempt to hide the backhanded compliment.
“Gee, thanks,” he dead panned, getting to his feet. “I don’t find you nearly as pompous as I once did, you know, since we are sharing how we no longer feel.”
He gave Miles a grin as he brushed the grass from his robes. “Sounds awesome. I’m in,” Jeremiah agreed. He probably should have gotten a few more details first, but he really couldn’t think of anything Miles could have said to make him think this was a bad idea. “When do we leave?” he asked because ‘Where are we going’ didn’t seem as important at the moment. Who cared where they were going. They could plan on the way. Except they should probably at least get a map. Maps were useful.
“Also I want to go to Rome,” he added continuing his previous thoughts aloud, forgetting that Miles would be missing the connecting dots. Oh well.
Miles grinned widely, accepting the roundabout insult/compliment with a gracious bow. A travel partner was the best way to go! Miles wasn’t dumb, he knew the trouble he could get into on his own home turf, he most definitely needed someone around that would realize he was gone and missing. Plus, Jeremiah amused him. Miles enjoyed needling him, but he also felt like he was obligated to shake the social ineptness out of the bloke. He would definitely be providing challenges...how brilliant would it be to say that you had a bird in at least five different countries?
“Rome! Of course, we are to go to Rome,” Miles exclaimed with a clap of his hands. He lifted his wrist to get a good look at his watch, “I believe we should head out on the first,” he said with an assured nod. February first, the alliteration simply made for a good starting point. He stuck out his hand, ready to secure the agreement of this adventure, “Partners, oui?”
“The first sounds great.” This was either going to be the best idea ever, or one of them was going to murder the other and leave the body in a foreign country. Still better than going back to England. And Jeremiah felt pretty confident that he could take Miles out if it was really necessary. “Partners.” Jeremiah agreed shaking his hand. He rocked on his heels, excited at the idea of the trip, but the first was still a couple days off. What were they suppose to do until then?
“Er. Let’s go get a drink to celebrate our newly formed plan,” he suggested a bit awkwardly, leaving off the ‘or something’ he really wanted to add to the end. This was how you started a trip out right, or so he had been told.
