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oliver wood ([info]fullwood) wrote in [info]hfrrpg,
@ 2008-01-23 17:37:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
WHO Oliver & Katie
WHAT Cooking & eating & chatting ;D
WHERE Olivers humble little three room appartment, stacked with Quidditch junk collectables?
WHEN Sunday 20 January, evening.
RATING unknown.



Oliver rubbed his hands over his face, which was currently settled at a nice shade of rose petal red. Thanks, Katie. At least he hadn't said it with her face to face or else he'd have probably dug himself a hole to die in. He gave a long sigh and waited for his owl to return, and when he did, he got up, closed the window and walked out of the door. No jacket, no keys, one wand and his wallet. It wasn't a long trip to the store, a good ten to fifteen minute walk, or if he could be bothered, a five minute jog. But today he couldn't be bothered, and considering that Katie needed to get there too he decided to take the slower option so he wouldn't be stood out there like a twat, in the cold, looking like he had been stood up for a date -- to the grocery store.

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and shook his head, re-thinking the words he'd written on paper. He should have kept his hand steady and thought before he replied with a question like that. Of course she hadn't meant cooking in the nude, only weird people did that. Oliver rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself - look at the state he was in. It was only Katie, best-friend, ex-team mate, crush? Eh, he didn't know. People told him he acted differently with her but he never saw it like that. He was just being himself.

Once he arrived, he saw Katie walking towards him from a distance and went inside as soon as she greeted him. The shopping had been hard, mainly because each of them wanted different meals. Oliver didn't want to stand for burgers and chips, nor did he want fish fingers and sweetcorn, or little smiley faced potato things. After a few tin throwing contests and a race down the isles on trolleys (because they were kids at heart, maybe they should have got the smiley faces and chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs) they paid for their stuff and walked back to his apartment.

Oliver let Katie in first, and lugged the small bag of uncooked food into the house. He laid out the ingredients on the table and stared at Katie, hoping she'd know exactly where to start. "I don't own any cook books." he finally admitted with a grin. They were pretty much buggered, right?


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[info]bells
2008-01-26 07:37 pm UTC (link)
“OH MY MERLIN!”
“IS THAT OLIVER WOOD?”
“Who?”
“THAT GUY FROM PUDDLEMERE UNITED!”
“OH MY MERLIN!”

“Someone has fans,” Katie chirped once they got into the store, not able to foresee what was next: a few girls, perhaps three, ran over while screaming their heads off, actually slamming right into her. Ow, that was going to leave a mark. “That was so not cool,” she commented when they left the store, rubbing her hand down her jeans to soothe her sore spot. “I think one of them kicked me!” And so her rambling continued until they were at Oliver’s place, grumbling insults here and there before throwing her coat on a random stool nearby. Finally ceasing her ranting she looked up at him, frowning lightly when realizing he had said something and she hadn’t paid attention. Something like he didn’t have ducks? Oh, no, he didn’t have any cook books.

“Well, you don’t need any cook books,” she finally told him, pulling up her sleeves and then showing her bare hands to him. “You have your hands and your--” incredible sensible mind? Huh. “—well, you got your hands, Oliver! Experiment a little.” They should have bought some kind of TV dinner that you had to heat up and tada, done. But no, Oliver was not only a prick, he was a stubborn prick. And he was going to do all the cleaning, damn it. It was only fair after all of the pushing and pulling she had undergone. Damn those girls had been persistent.

“Do you have a stereo or something? Cooking can’t go without a little music, what else are spoons for?” Spooning, maybe, but it was much nicer to pretend that you were a famous musician rocking out in some place that wasn’t your kitchen. Not that she had the voice for it, nope. Katie had always thought her voice was a bit scratchy, and when she had a minor cold, it was so raspy people thought she had gone under the knife and removed her vocal cords. If that was possible, even. Well, don’t just stand there looking like a fool, Katie, you should go ahead and actually do some cooking.

Maybe they could pull open a bottle of wine and make it cozy after they were done, or the kitchen could explode and they’d be covered in edible stuff and blaming each other of what went wrong. Well, whatever happened, it would be his fault. “C’mon, Ollie, let’s start a fire!”

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