Sweets and Summer [OPEN]

Robin wasn't sure how he had swung this. 

He was a Russian citizen, born and raised. He currently lived in Ireland. His family owned homes in the United States, Spain, Japan. 

And yet here he was. Playing for England. 

Robin understood why they wanted him. 

The festivities leading up to the World Cup were proving as enjoyable as the sport itself. Robin had been camped out since nearly the beginning of the games and had yet to be bored. Friends from both Quidditch and his family had materialized from around the world, providing a never-ending stream of cookouts, parties, and bonfires. Since the trip home by car would have been hellish to make every night, Robin and Avery had agreed that it made more sense for him to stay night and day. 

The campsites had turned to a tentative calm with post-lunch sleepiness, driving those who were still ready for excitement to other, more communal, areas of the grounds. Robin had chosen to wander down through the marketplace as he waited for the Ireland-Scotland game later that night. He hadn't gotten too far before a distinct mop of red hair appeared in the crowd. 

The first instinct was to run. 

Over the last few days Jack Dyllan had made it her mission to ruin Robin's fun by stopping him on the paths, poking her head in at his parties, and even knocking on his tent to 'remind' him of his responsibilities as a teammate. And Robin would have followed through with his strategy of avoidance if he hadn't happened to catch the faces of the two people who stood across from his teammate. 

Robin walked through the marketplace until he came to a rest standing alongside Jack. 

"Now this is a party if I've ever seen one." Robin offered by way of greeting, casually throwing his arm across Jack's shoulders as he looked ahead to give Avery a cheeky smile. 

"I didn't know you two were coming today! I would have popped over earlier," he told the pair conversationally, almost entirely ignoring the woman acting as his arm rest.  

Keiran could feel the tension rolling off of Jack and the unwavering curiosity from the blonde next to him, but he didn't dare ask what was going on. If it was something he needed to hear about, or something that would affect him, he didn't doubt that he would be informed. But Avery didn't get the chance to react, because the very man Jack had been searching for had sauntered up to join them.

"Two years ago, it might well have been," Keiran returned, his tone only partly joking. There was some serious truth laced into his statement, and he almost regretted saying it when he felt the weight of their past two years settle over him. But he quickly forced a smirk and strengthened his stance, crossing his arms over his chest.

Avery gave him a knowing look, but turned back to Robin, an amused but unapologetic look on her face. "I doubt you'll be surprised, love, but we were just talking about you."

It. Was. Touching. Her.

How. Dare. It. Think. That. It. Could. Be. A. Little. B!tch. And. Then. Touch. Her.

She wanted to hurt it.

She wanted to throw it into the ground and leave it there to rot.

She wanted it to stop touching her.

Too bad it was a decent player.

So, she had to settle for the next best thing.

Her arm came up, circled around Robin's neck, and held him there, while her other hand reached up, grabbed his nipple, and twisted.

"YOU HAVE SOME NERVE, IVANOV!"

"AARGH!" 

For a second Robin barely processed what was happening. She was.. twisting his nipple? That was so.. immature.. pathetic.. idiotic.. He should have seen a good move like that coming. 

"F*ck, no!" 

Robin's first response was to pull away, a move that only increased the pain coming from his chest. His next response? 

"No no no NO NO STOP stop it stop it" 

A gentle slapping began to pour down upon Jack, the weak open hands not aiming to hurt the redhead but simply to push her stupid face away from him. But she held on and after a moment or two of precise failing, discomfort began giving way to a distinct pain and more drastic measures were taken. 

"NO!" 

A nice, well-positioned knee to the groin. 

And then he ran, a wild laugh escaping his lips to fill the marketplace.