rollo lives in ramshackle now

fuck that guy specifically

synopsis: rollo gets a better view at how badly crowley treats the reader and decides to do something about it after the reader gets injured(there are some repressed Feelings going on in here but they can be read as platonic or romantic)

a/n: this one isn't as much rollo and reader trying to figure things out between themselves as much as just straight crowley slander lmfao (also rollo and malleus working together?? in MY fic??? it's more likely than you think) i wanted to focus more on rollo's feelings for the reader after he's gotten all settled in that aren't just apprehension or downright hostility, but also bc i simply like putting guys in situations and then making a character study out of it

"Damn it!" you shout, slamming yourself into your chair and crossing your arms as the lights suddenly buzz and flicker out.

Rollo, who was busy waiting for something resembling a hot pocket to heat up in the kitchen's mini oven, looks up at the dark bulbs, then over to you.

"Can't believe we don't even get electricity here," you grumble to yourself, glaring at the table in front of you. Listening to Grim shout something intelligible from upstairs, Rollo pulls his hot pocket out of the oven, frowning a bit as he notices how it barely warmed up while in there as he sets it on a plate.

"Does this sort of this happen often?" he asks you, poking at the failed dinner with a fork.

"Yeah. Sometimes. Our electricity comes directly from the school itself, and it gets cut off at random times because of how long the lines from here to there are," you say, kicking at the legs of your chair.

"Must be some long lines," says Rollo, trying the light switch. Even as he flicks it up and down, the light stays formerly off.

"They're reinforced with magic, but they were also made years and years before we even got here, and they haven't been looked at since. Some of the magic has probably worn off with age or something." Rollo looks a bit concerned at that, but you brush it off; he always looks a bit concerned about something.

"Have you spoken to Headmaster Crowley about this? Certainly there's something he can do about this," Rollo asks you, taking a small bite out of the edge of his lukewarm hot pocket.

"It's gotten to the point where he won't take any more complaints unless someone's dying or overblotting," you grouse, picking at the scratches on the surface of the table. You miss the way that Rollo's eyebrows pinch together slightly, musing over what you've told him. He finishes off the rest of his poor meal and starts to head upstairs to finish the rest of his homework and write a few pages in his journal when you call back out to him.

"Hey, make sure to grab some extra blankets. It gets cold here at night, and I've got no idea when the electricity is gonna start working again," you announce.

Rollo follows your advice and is grateful for the warmth, because as you'd predicted, the temperature tanks as soon as it gets darker outside. Sometime during the night, the electricity comes back and the heating is back on, and Rollo finds himself sweating when he wakes up early in the morning.

Kicking the blankets off, he untangles himself out of the pile that he'd cocooned himself in and heads to the bathroom, pulling a towel and robe with him as he goes. He's still tacky with his own sweat and he grimaces as he pulls his night clothes off, tossing them into the laundry basket as quickly as he can.