|yule_balls_mod (yule_balls_mod) wrote in hp_yule_balls,|
@ 2008-12-29 23:22:00
|Entry tags:||2008, character: oliver wood, character: percy weasley, fic, pairing: percy/oliver|
Fic: Gaucho (Percy/Oliver, NC-17) for lee_west
Disclaimer: Oh, if only they were mine! I'd get a pool and make Harry wear obscenely small trunks, and Percy would be my attorney who I secretly shag...in fact I'd secretly shag all of them. At once. Sweet Merlin, why can't this be real?!?!
Summary: Oliver has run off to be a cowboy in the Argentine. Percy must get him to come back to England. Must!
Warnings: Centaurs, oral, caffeine. You get the picture.
Word Count: ~2700
Author's Notes: lee_west, I can't tell you what a joy it was to write this for you. I admit I was a bit intimidated; but then, who wouldn't be? However, I am proud to say that I did not flinch. I met the challenge head on, and I hope that this makes you smile a little.
"He's gone to seek his fortune in the Argentine."
Percy sat for a moment looking at the bits of marshmallow fluff stuck to Ludo Bagman's van dyke.
"So he's gone mad, then?"
"Completely 'round the twist," Bagman affirmed cheerfully. "But, that does not mean that he can't play for England!"
"You can't seriously be considering him for the vacancy. Aren't there other Keepers available?"
"None as brilliant as him. I need him. England needs him. Cocoa?"
"Indeed," Percy agreed absently. "And no, thank you." He desperately wanted to finish up and get home. He had two weeks of vacation and he intended to make full use of them, first by cleaning every inch of his flat, and then going over all of his shirts to see what needed mending, and then--
"You must go and bring him back."
"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Did you just tell me to go bring him back?"
"That's right, my boy!" Bagman beamed at him. "You're a smart one, you are. All of my previous secretaries have suffered from what I like to call benign inefficiency, but you're something else entirely. Competent, quick on the uptake, organised. You remind me of someone, now who was it..." He placed a finger against his lip thoughtfully.
"Sir, I am supposed to be on vacation. Right now, as a matter of fact. I can't just--"
"I think that getting Wood back is slightly more important than the compulsive spring cleaning of your flat, don't you?" Bagman asked, eyes narrowed.
"Why me?" he asked plainly.
"You were in his class, weren't you? You have the schoolboy camaraderie."
"But I hardly know him," he protested.
"Nonsense!" Bagman replied, refreshing his cocoa with a tap of his wand. "Why, the lads I went to school with, we would do anything for each other. I'd take a curse for every last one of them. Well, except for that prick who stole my pants in third year." Bagman rose and puffed out his chest. "This is your task, young man. You go down there, down to the pampas, and you bring home the prodigal son. The nation will thank you."
Percy felt the fight fizzle out of him. It was perfectly clear that he was not going to win this one.
"Training starts in two weeks! Bring me back a Keeper!"
Percy looked out the window of the tiny Escort hatchback that was, quite literally, escorting him to Oliver Wood's ranch. The ride was terribly bumpy, the road being constructed mainly of rough rock compressed in dirt. The man who picked him up was clearly a native, quite short and with a permanent smile affixed to his face. He kept offering things to Percy, like pieces of breaded steak and boiled eggs.
"Quiere maté?" the man asked, pushing a wooden cup containing a silver straw into his face. "Lo gustará, yo sé," he persisted.
"Er, no, no gracias," Percy replied, shaking his head. He sighed heavily as his rigid attache case banged once more against his knees. "These are not the pampas."
"Eh? Pampas? No son pampas, es chaco. Chaco," the man repeated slowly and a bit loudly, perhaps concerned that Percy was a dim foreigner. This unexpected turning of the tables made Percy laugh inwardly for the first time since he'd left on this bizarre mission. He smiled a bit as he nodded back.
"I'm here to bring you back to play Keeper for England."
"Well hallo, Percy! Cut right to the chase there, don't you? We've been expecting you!" Oliver clapped a hand to Percy's shoulder in a hearty fashion, and grabbed his free hand to drag him inside the small cabin that appeared to be Oliver's home.
"Ah, well, it's just myself here, of course. Then there's Tito and Horacio."
"And who might they be?" Percy asked, busying himself with arranging his cases against an empty wall.
"The centaurs. They're excellent workers when they're not pissed. Like family, really. My vaqueros. Simply born to it."
Percy was surprised. "I'm impressed, Oliver. It takes great skill to even get a centaur to carry on an actual conversation with a person, much less work for one."
Oliver shrugged. "S'nothing." He must have noticed Percy's incredulous expression because he went on. "No really, I'm not being modest or anything. They're different here. These centaurs came over with the Spanish and were treated as gods from the get go, so they like humans a lot more than they do back in the old country."
"The old country now, is it? You're officially an emigré?"
"That's right!" Oliver said brightly, throwing his arms up in the air. "I'm following in the footsteps of the great adventurers of old. I've come to the Argentine, penniless, English, and I'm building my empire from the ground up." He grabbed Percy by the shoulders and said with great enthusiasm, "I've got five head of cattle now. Five! Isn't that thrilling?!" Percy pushed his glasses back up his face after he was practically tossed aside.
"How many is a head?"
"One. A head is one. Maté?"
"Eurgh, no. Thank you. So you only have five cows?" Oliver shook his head.
"No, no. It sounds much more impressive when you say head of cattle."
"Oh." Percy looked at the cup in Oliver's hand. "Is there anything to drink besides that...that?"
"Are you mad? It's delicious! It's all I drink!" Something about the manic look in the other man's eyes told Percy that this might not be such a good thing. "I think there may be some coffee around somewhere. Not as much caffeine, though, I'll warn you! And we don't have any milk."
"How is it that you can be surrounded by cows, yet have no milk?"
"They only do powdered around here, so I've given up on it entirely," Wood explained.
"That has more than coffee, you say?" Percy asked, curious.
"It's fantastic! Really peppy."
Percy considered that perhaps part of Oliver's manner could be chalked up to a never-ending caffeine buzz. It was a theory, at least.
"What else do you do down here aside from chasing cattle?"
"I have a mine!" Oliver leaned in as thought about to impart highly confidential information. "I just bought it last week and haven't had a chance to go out and have a look-see, so I'm thinking perhaps you could come along and give it the once over with me, eh? Tomorrow?"
"You do realize that I am down here for a purpose?"
"Course! Doesn't mean you can't come dig for silver with me. Prospecting, yeah? You can even keep a log if it'll make you feel useful. What do you say?"
"I will come along, but only so that I can do my job. Which is to convince you to come back to England. In fact, I haven't asked yet. Will you?"
Oliver shook his head, laughing.
"No can do, Perce. Sorry to burst your bubble."
"I don't intend to give up."
"Persistency! I would expect nothing less of you."
Sleeping in a funky old woolen blanket was not Percy's idea of comfort. Not that it had been much more comfortable at Oliver's cabin, but at least he'd slept in a cot off of the ground. And not that he'd been sleeping. Ever since he laid down he'd heard a buzzing quite close to his ears. He considered a silencing spell, but then what if the buzzing got closer without him realising it? What if the hideous gnat crawled inside his ear? He'd read terrible things about creatures crawling into people's ears while out in the wild. While it was true that a wizard shouldn't have to resort to pouring wax into his ear to kill an insect, a Scourgify on the eardrum was a very bad idea and could permanently damage his hearing. This wouldn't do.
He sat up and reached for the canteen containing the caña and took a hearty swig. Perhaps a bit of a tipple would help him to nod off more easily.
"Oh good, you're awake." Percy rolled his eyes, which was completely pointless in the dark. "Hang on, I can't see you properly." Oliver pointed his wand at the dying fire and it sprang back to life.
"Ay, mátala, por favor," mumbled Tito, sleepily.
"Puta, la luz!" exclaimed Horacio.
"Something wrong, Horacio? You sound a bit hoarse."
"Sorry, boys," Oliver whispered, taking the fire down to a soft glow. He turned to Percy. "I love it when they call me that. Gaucho." He visibly shivered. "So, drinking at this hour? Why, I'm surprised at you, Percy. Never would have guessed," he grinned.
"Fuck off," Percy replied, grumpily.
"If you're going to curse at me, you must do it in Spanish."
"Must I?" he asked, warily.
"Must," Oliver affirmed.
"Very well, I'll be sure to watch my language. Why are you awake? You look as though you've not been to sleep yet."
"I don't sleep very well," Oliver confessed.
"Drink?" Percy asked, offering the leather-covered canteen.
"Hmm, alright." He sipped quietly for a bit and then began to, of all things, giggle. "When they call me Gaucho, I feel like I'm living up to some grand destiny."
"You're an awfully soft touch for a Quidditch star," Percy observed.
"I'm an awfully soft touch in general," Oliver replied with a wink.
Percy felt the blood rush to his cheeks.
"Yes, well. I'd better be--"
"Oh dear. Now, I always knew you were a bit priggish at school, but if that translates to being a bigoted arsehole, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut your little vacation short."
"I'm not a-- wait, vacation? You think this is a vacation for me? I came here to sit down and talk to you man to man...er...so to speak...about you coming back to play Keeper. If I'm wasting my time, then I'd like to go on the vacation I actually had planned in the first place!"
"Whoa, Percy! I didn't mean to--"
"And I'm not a bigot!"
"Well then. My apologies. I did think it best to warn you, though. Horacio and Tito don't take well to people being overly judgmental, if you know what I mean."
"You mean that they're...um."
"That's right! And anyone who says anything nasty to them hears the entire Spanish lexicon of swear words, believe you me!"
"I'm sure," Percy replied, bewildered, accepting the offer of more caña.
"The first week I was here I made the mistake of walking right into their stable during the evening, and let me tell you something...that was...well, you'd think that something like that might be kind of, I dunno, sexy? It's not." He looked around quickly before adding in a slightly louder voice, "Not that they aren't both bloody gorgeous centaurs."
Percy couldn't help himself. He laughed.
"If you'd told me three days ago that I'd be freezing my cajones off in the Gran Chaco with a madman and two bent centaurs, I would never have believed it."
Oliver's cheerful look faded slightly.
"Do you really think I'm mad?"
Percy paused. He sensed that a lot hinged on the answer he gave. Best to just go with the undecided truth.
"Not as such, no. I think that you drink too much of that stuff and it makes you act like a hyperactive 10 year old. I also think...no, I know that the mine you've shown me is worthless. I'd hate to think that you've come down here to live the life of a fool. You were meant for better things. You're a fantastic Keeper, and I admit to being baffled. Why on earth would you give up such a promising career and come down here to play cowboy?"
"I had to get away. Too much attention. Anthony didn't like it."
"Anthony? Goldstein, do you mean?" Oliver nodded sadly.
"He left. I came here."
"You mean that you ran away to South America and gave everything up because some git broke up with you?" Percy cried in astonishment.
"Well, when you put it like that..."
"Goldstein's Muggleborn, for Merlin's sake, you know how they are about those sorts of things."
"What do you mean?" Oliver asked, curious.
"Well, they're kind of split about the whole, er..."
"Tab A, tab A thing?"
"And you fall, where exactly, Percy? The rest of the blokes used to say you were asexual."
"What?" he said, affronted. "But I dated Clearwater!"
"That's when they were saying it. Didn't help, mate."
"Oh," he replied, deflated. "I suppose they weren't far wrong. We never really--"
"I see," Oliver said, taking another gulp. "And blokes?" he asked, offering the canteen.
"I never really got around to trying it," Percy admitted.
"Would you like to?"
Percy supposed that he shouldn't be surprised by Oliver's forwardness. It was to be expected, really. What did surprise him was that Oliver seemed interested in him at all as a potential bedmate. He was quite handsome, after all. Objectively speaking. Of course. All blue eyes and sandy hair; the muscular, youthful build; creamy complexion tanned golden from the time spent out of doors. Very appealing.
Oliver's lips still tasted of the sugary liquor, wet and plump between Percy's teeth.
"Rico," he breathed.
"You're learning!" Oliver chuckled, before Percy cut his laughter short by slipping his hand down his trousers. "You do get right to the point. I like that. A lot."
"I'm trying to decide where I want to start, and getting a handle on the tools involved always seems a wise course of action."
"Oh, definitely so, yes," Oliver breathed. Percy removed his hand and set to unbuttoning the denims that lay in between hand and cock. He pulled it out and squeezed it tightly, rubbing his thumb over the tip. "That's a little bit tight." Percy relaxed his hand. "Better, thanks."
"Would it be better if I suck you?" Percy realised as he said it just how much he wanted to.
"Fuck. Yeah." Percy went to work with his tongue, licking broad paths up and kissing the tip on each go. "Bloody hell, Percy, fantastic," Oliver mumbled. When Percy began to suck the tip hard with each round, Oliver was incoherent. He came suddenly, erupting onto Percy's lips just as he was pulling away. It spattered onto his cheek, and he curiously opened his mouth to catch the last bit on his tongue. It tasted...weird. But not terrible! And that was saying something.
"Sorry about that," Oliver panted.
"Nothing a handkerchief can't fix."
"Or a tongue." Oliver sat up and began licking it off his face, kissing him sloppily in the process. It was the single most erotic thing that had ever happened to him.
"Oh my god!"
"Tsk. En Español," Oliver commanded.
"Muy bien. Now. Fuck me."
Percy awoke to the sound of hooves. He was wrapped in his blanket, snuggled up against Oliver, very comfortably. He cracked open one sleepy eye to discover both Tito and Horacio staring down at him, grinning.
"Busy night," Tito observed.
"Er..." Percy nudged Oliver in the ribs.
"Very busy, thank you," Oliver replied. "Where the fuck's the maté?"
"Tito and I, we had to listen to you all night. Was disgusting," Horacio explained. "No one should have to hear that. It was..." He turned to Tito. "How do you say?"
"Repulsivo, repugnante, apocaliptico, horr--"
"We get the idea, Tito. Thank you."
"Can we get away from them, please?" Percy whispered.
"If you answer one question honestly, I think I can manage it," Oliver answered, still bundled in his own blanket.
"Would you like to go on, you know, a date or something? Sometime? Maybe?"
"That would be lovely, yes," Percy answered without hesitation.
"Excellent." Oliver paused and furrowed his brow. "One more thing. Do you really think that mine is worthless?"
"Without question. The only silver left is structural. If you tried to mine it the whole thing would come crashing down and kill you."
"Oh. In that case, did you bring that Portkey to England along with you?"
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