Percy Weasley (sentimentalist) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-12-13 23:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | oliver wood, percy weasley |
WHO: Cute, hunky Oliver Wood and super dorkified, v. ginge Percy Weasley
WHEN: The summer of 4th Year
WHERE: The beach
SUMMARY: Percy and Oliver get to spend some quality non-Hogwarts time together.
WARNINGS: Truth or dare with tiny boys? Awkward hormones? Feels? COWBOYS?
“We’re going out to the beach!” Oliver called out, but he didn’t bother waiting for a reply. His parents knew where he’d be if they needed him. He never wandered far. He grabbed Percy’s arm and tugged him towards the front door. He’d invited Percy to spend the day with him, and that had turned into the night, too. At some point, Oliver had come up with a brilliant idea: steal a bottle of his father’s whisky. He’d have to put it back before his father noticed, but that was a problem for future-Oliver. (Years later, his father would admit that he knew all along.) The air had a chill to it, and he shivered. They’d grabbed a blanket, at least, but he wished he’d thought to bring more. “I like coming out here at night,” he told Percy as he was spreading the blanket out, like it wasn’t obvious. “It’s quiet. Um. Oh, I have another idea.” He grinned. “Truth or dare?” Oliver’s ideas were like waves you either chose to ride or let wash over you. Percy Weasley had learned this long ago, living in a school dorm with the Quidditch star. He, however, found these stolen moments where he was not merely one voice in the midst of a throng or the thread of someone else’s wit so inherently enjoyable. When the blanket was spread upon the sand, he’d already lain on his back and stared hard up at the night sky, wondering over all of those jewel-like planets slung out across the sky. His eyes settled on Perseus. A grin. He wouldn’t back down from a challenge. “Dare.” When Oliver had suggested the game, he hadn’t yet thought of any questions to ask, so he felt a little panicked for a moment. The pressure he felt on a Quidditch pitch had nothing on this - on trying to navigate friendships and people. Quidditch was safe because even when it was unpredictable, there were still known quantities. There were so many more variables with people. Like this one: he hadn’t expected Percy to pick dare. Oliver took a sip from the bottle of whisky, figuring he’d need it as much as Percy might, if he wanted it. “Okay.” He squinted a little, forehead creased in thought. “I dare you to…” This was probably better played with more people, or somewhere they could do more dares. “Run down to the water, get in, at least up to your waist or it doesn’t count, and come back.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Without any clothes.” Percy’s eyes went round and wide behind his spectacles and he turned his head to look at Oliver, all while trying to keep the most relaxed posture possible. Of course they’d dressed around one another for years. But Oliver was in Quidditch and Percy, well. And they were alone. And the stakes were suddenly very high. “And you won’t look, will you?” Oliver fought the urge to roll his eyes, and instead just leveled his gaze at Percy. “It’s dark, Perce. I’m not going to be able to see a bloody thing.” Not that he thought Percy had any reason to hide, but that wasn’t the point. It bothered him a little he was worried, anyway. They lived together most of the year; did he really have any reason to be shy? “I’ll do it too, if that helps at all.” “Cross your heart?” He rose, was glad for the dark because his hands were shaking, and kicked off his shoes. “Let’s do it together,” he said. “I dare you to it too.” He unbuckled his belt and shrugged out of his jumper, turning away from Oliver. “That’s not how this game works,” Oliver answered, but he stood up as well, because he definitely wasn’t going to back down now. “This just means,” he tossed his shirt and jumper onto the blanket, “that it’s my turn to ask another question next, because you wasted yours on daring me to join you.” He grinned at Percy in the dark, toeing his shoes and socks off before focusing on his trousers. “And you’ve given me a lot of time to think about what I’ll ask.” But in Oliver’s little moment for a monologue, Percy had divested himself of his trousers and before his friend had smiled at him, he was already running into the water. He splashed his way in, pressing on until he found himself chest deep. There, he turned back to the shore and called out to Oliver. “Oi, Wood! What was that?” For a few seconds, Oliver just stared at Percy, mouth open wide. He’d expected to have to drag him, or coax him a little more. He hadn’t expected Percy to beat him there. It was impressive, honestly, even if he hadn’t seen it happen. “I said I’m not going so easy on you next time!” he answered as he took off in a sprint, following the sound of Percy’s voice. When he got there, he smacked his hand against the water and splashed Percy as hard as he could. “That’s for not waiting.” Momentarily blinded by the water washing up against his glasses, Percy pulled them off and perched them on the top of his head. He smiled, finally, wading a step closer to Oliver. “I had to get in the water before you saw anything.” “Saw anything?” Oliver repeated, puzzled. It still hadn’t occurred to him that either of them might have something to hide, or be embarrassed by anything. He’d been around enough other boys to not be bothered - not that they spent a lot of time looking, or anything like that. “Like what? A tail?” He snorted. “Not a tail, I couldn’t hide that in the dorm!” But Percy wasn’t quite used to things like locker rooms. He was shy about his body and couldn’t help but be blessedly glad for a sickle moon and dark, inky water. “Don’t worry about it,” he told Oliver. And punctuated it with a splash. “Well -” Oliver was cut off by water hitting his face, and he spluttered. “Oh, thanks a lot.” But he was laughing, and not actually cross at all. “I just don’t know what else you’d not want me to see, that’s why… a tail was the best I could come up with.” No one had ever said he was the brightest student in the room - except when it came to Quidditch. He shivered. Percy was close enough that he could reach out for him again, tugging him gently towards the shore. “C’mon, we better get out before we shrivel up and freeze to death.” “Um. I’m pretty sure I’m already non-existent.” Percy was shivering, too. He allowed himself to be pulled toward the shore, and as the night air hit his wet skin, the shivering started in greater force. He made for the shore, a little quiet in the moonlight as he wrapped a towel around his waist and shrugged into his button down shirt for warmth before he cast a warming charm around him. Instinctively, he did the same for Oliver. “Oh, whatever,” Oliver waved a hand, like he might brush away Percy’s comment, because it was silly and they were both in the same boat. It wasn’t until they were on the shore that Oliver started to think he’d been stupid to even suggest it at all. His teeth chattered, even under a warming spell, because it was going to take a little time to adjust. “Thanks.” He pulled his clothes on and sat down on the blanket again, tucking his legs up to his chest. “We’re not doing that again.” “Brave Oliver Wood, undone by the North Sea! It has a bit of poetry to it,” Percy quipped through teeth chattering a bit more gently. He pushed his spectacles high on his freckled nose. “So. We did it.” A grin. “Ugh.” Oliver shoved Percy’s shoulder gently. “Don’t tell anyone that it got the best of me.” He was rather proud of them, though. He didn’t go for a dip on good days, let alone at night. He was really proud of Percy in particular. “Okay, I think you earned a go. But truth this time. I need a second to recover before another dare.” He smiled. “Why did you invite me?” “Because you’re my friend.” It was a simple answer, but it was the truth. “Because I like you. I mean -” Oliver frowned a little. He didn’t like Percy, not like that, or at least he didn’t think he did, but he did enjoy the other boy’s company, and he really enjoyed seeing Percy get all flustered about something he cared about. And he liked that Percy didn’t look at him like he was mad when he got worked up about Quidditch. “I dunno. Just wanted to.” Quickly nodding, Percy rested his chin against his knees. “I don’t get invited to much, so thanks. This is aces. Of course I like you too.” “Well, people are assholes. I’m not, of course. But loads of others. Most of our class.” It wasn’t right that people weren’t nice to Percy or didn’t include him. There was nothing wrong with him. Not like those Slytherin kids. Oliver scooted a little closer. “Truth, or are you up for another dare?” “Technically, I think it should be your turn,” he said and learned briefly against Oliver. “But since we didn’t establish the rules, I’ll bite. Truth.” “Pfft, I hate rules.” That wasn’t true at all, but it was a night for rebellion. They could throw out the rules for just one night. “Okay.” Oliver hadn’t actually gotten around to thinking about anything he could ask. “If you could take us somewhere right now, anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Other people might’ve asked if Percy had a fancy for anyone, just to embarrass him, but Oliver wasn’t like that. He hadn’t suggested the game to hurt Percy. Percy thought about it for a moment - with places like Rome, Cairo or Paris at the tips of their hypothetical fingers - and he considered how it could be interesting to explore these grand old cities with Oliver. But the truth was, of course, that he was quite happy in his little slice of Brighton beach. He was allowed to be himself, he was respected and moreover, wanted. That’s all the pieces he needed. “Hmmmm,” he said. Because he had to play the part. “Hmm. So many options.” A pause. “I’d be right here, right now.” “Really?” Oliver was surprised. He’d expected something far away, something with history, museums. He didn’t think Percy would lie, but he hadn’t expected that. He turned to face Percy full-on. “Why?” “Why isn’t a part of the game, Oliver.” He smiled crookedly and leaned in. “Truth or dare?” “Aw, come on.” Oliver sighed dramatically. He knew Percy was just as stubborn as he was, so there was no real point in fighting. “Fine, but I won’t forget.” He leaned in a little too, eyes narrowed. “Dare.” “Doesn’t matter if you forget, Oliver. It isn’t part of the game,” Percy replied with an arched brow, laughing slightly. He didn’t want to give himself up that easily. “I dare you to sing a song from Broadway right now, at the very top of your lungs.” Oliver blinked, staring at Percy for a few seconds. “Broadway,” he repeated. It took him a few more seconds before he backed away and stood up. “Okay. That’s easy.” Was it, though? Oliver brushed his hands over his trousers before he remembered that they were still damp and that it wouldn’t help cleaning them off at all. What song was he going to sing? Oliver was used to being in the spotlight, but there was a reason he was on the Quidditch team instead of the choir. It was just the two of them here, though. This should be easier than on a stage in front of all of Hogwarts, right? Just in case, he reached down to pick up the bottle he’d left on the blanket between them and he took a swig. For luck. “Okay, imagine that I have back-up singers. It’s better with back-up,” he told Percy. It took him a second to get warmed up -- beginning Mark’s solo at we raise our glass, you bet your ass -- but by the time he got to starving for attention, hating convension, hating pretension, he was feeling much less self-conscious. He’d even begun dancing around Percy, trying to draw him into it. “To being an us for once, instead of a them!” That part was fully shouted at the top of his voice, no more inhibitions holding him back. Percy was beaming. First, he wasn’t exactly sure that Oliver would know Muggle Broadway. Second, he was actually good. He jumped up and began to applaud enthusiastically. Suddenly, he forgot this was a game of Truth or Dare. What he was more interested in was (as usual) learning more about Oliver. “Blimey, Oliver, you’re really good! And La Vie Boheme. I love that song! I’ve definitely listened to Rent more than once. I didn’t know that you did too.” “Um.” Oliver’s cheeks were so warm that he was sure that Percy could see them even though it was dark. Most people didn’t know he’d listened. Most people thought all he had in his brain was Quidditch. They weren’t really wrong, but there was a lot more to him than anyone bothered to find out. “Yeah.” Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know why it embarrassed him like this, especially when Percy seemed genuinely pleased by it. “It’s one of my favourites. Bit cliche of me, I think, but... ” He shrugged. “It’s good.” Percy grinned from ear-to-ear and leaned forward, giving Oliver’s shoulder a graze with his knuckles. “It’s so good. Definitely not cliche.” “Okay.” Oliver rolled his eyes, but he was smiling and he pushed Percy gently in return. “Whatever you say.” He still thought that Percy was full of it, but it felt good to hear nevertheless. Even if he was bullshitting Oliver to make him feel better. Whatever it was, it still made Oliver want to get that reaction from Percy every time he did something. He shook his head, trying to shake those thoughts off. “Your turn.” “So we’re still playing?” Truth or dare was long. He took a moment and sat back down in the sand, burying his feet to get at the last bit of warmth left by the sun. It was there and he leaned back, resting his weight on his palms. “Truth.” “Ummm.” Oliver shuffled his feet in the sand before sitting down beside Percy - maybe a little closer than before, though not because he was doing it on purpose. “We don’t have to,” he said quickly, “keep playing. If you don’t want to.” Percy’s choice was momentarily forgotten in the awkwardness of not knowing what to say or do next. He didn’t want Percy to feel like he had to -- although, that was the entire point of the game, wasn’t it? Make people do things they wouldn’t normally? He turned to look at Percy. “We could just talk or something. I dunno.” “Okay, well.” He took the bottle from between them and let the liquid within fall to his lips briefly before he continued speaking. “That’s kind of like a game of truth in and of itself, isn’t it?” And as his friend, there was much of Oliver that Percy could speak to, but this trip gave colour to so many of his questions. “I really like old Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals.” “Really?” Oliver sounded surprised, though he felt sort of stupid for it. Percy’s reaction to his performance of Rent should have opened that door in his mind already, but instead, he was stuck on how Percy would have even known about them at all, and why he was just finding out. “What’s your favourite?” After a moment, he grinned. “There, there’s your truth. I’m glad you said truth anyway, because I was running out of ideas that didn’t involve daring you to kiss me or something, like people always do with this game. So what’s your favourite musical?” The idea of kissing Oliver - it wasn’t a bad idea, it was just a new one - wrought a thorough shade of red that made Percy’s freckles stand up and he ruffled his hair for a moment, letting the wind do the job of calming his cheeks for him. He nodded sagely. “Right now I really like Oklahoma! because it’s funny and there’s cowboys.” “There’s cowboys,” Oliver echoed with a laugh. He imagined Percy wearing one of those hats and some boots and riding a horse. He couldn’t see it without laughing at it, Percy with his usually perfectly combed hair under a wide-brimmed hat. “I’d make a good cowboy,” he decided. “We’d … we’d fight outlaws together. No one would get past us.” Then, he looked a little sheepish, “I’ve never heard Oklahoma before. Maybe… you could play it for me sometime?” “You’d make a good anything,” Percy said quickly. He paused for a moment, watching the black waves lap the shore. Then, he turned back to Oliver with a smile. “There’s a record store in town. They’ll have listening rooms.” Oliver shook his head. “There’s only one thing I’ll be good at,” he insisted, “and that’s a Quidditch player.” It might have sounded like he was being too hard on himself, but Oliver didn’t see it that way. He was good at Quidditch, so he thought it was best if he put all of his energy into that one thing, that way he would guarantee success. “We should go, though,” he added, hoping to deflect any of Percy’s compliments, if he intended to throw any more Oliver’s way. He reached for the bottle, his hand brushing against Percy’s in the process. “You can take me.” “After breakfast?” he asked, letting the warmth from Oliver’s touch fill him. He might have pulled away in another environment. But here in the dark with only the ocean? He let the warmth linger. “We’ll go into town.” |