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Oliver Bloody Wood (oliverwoodwould) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Oliver Wood was normally a very happy man. And he was happy still, but he was also very cross. As much as he joked about the injury and his lack of being concussed, the Healers were worried he wouldn't be able to start the game on Saturday. Some were contented with letting the poor reserves have a chance on occasion, but Ollie wasn't one of them. He might come off as someone who didn't give a shit about anything, but quidditch he cared about. It was more like the family business than any sport, given that his father played professionally, his mum got her start in sweet making at the stands, his uncle and brother were broommakers, and even Eddie was mad for the game. He worked out like a mad thing, studied the plays of every chaser in the league, ran drills like a bull, and worked longer and harder than most anyone on Puddlemere. It, of course, was a significant factor in his injury, but he refused to let down. Being asked to stay home for the next day's practice killed him. But at least on the positive end he had good friends. Alicia had said she'd send over chocolate ice cream, and Melinda was coming with dinner.

He smiled a little thinking of them talking in her flat, and of the easy joking way they had. Oliver was much more of a romantic than he let on to most people, which of course meant it was easy for him to get hurt. He often kept things at a physical level so that he didn't let himself be vulnerable, but he wasn't very good at it. How many blokes would feel bad about kicking out a one night stand they didn't even like in the first place? He didn't always make good life choices, but Oliver had a good heart. And he saw a good heart in Melinda, which is probably why, despite his thinking about what she might look like naked (nearly all the time when not in practice. And maybe even then), they hadn't done anything other than snog. They had been GOOD snogs, mind, but he felt like she was someone special, or could be special to him. The key was, he thought, not to put her on too much of a pedestal. He'd done that in the past and it had only caused him pain. Getting to know her as a real person made all the difference.

So the sound of her calling and knocking on his door was most welcome once she arrived. Oliver opened up to her, a goofy, boyish grin that wasn't able to hide his happiness. "Hallo, my healing angel," he said, leaning down to give her a kiss on lips-quick, but warm. He helped her with her wares and caught the owled ice cream while he was at it. "Als sent me some ice cream because she knows it heals me best of all. But she rudely decided to send it via owl instead of healing me in person. Luckily I have other gorgeous blondes who don't mind taking up the task." He lead her inside, not for a moment embarrassed by the spartan efficiency flat he kept. While filled with broom closets to hold his babies, it lacked much in the way of charm, or indeed, space. A small couch, a telly that was suspended by what can only be described as chewing gum and hopes and dreams, and a simple mattress in a lofted sleeping area were the majority of the furnishings. He did have a small tea table, and thankfully two chairs, and it was on this table he delivered their pizza before summoning mis-matched china and utensils with which to eat them. On his own he would have taken the food straight from the containers, but as he was entertaining, he figured they could use some luxuries. He pulled out a chair for her and indicated she should sit and relax while they ate.

After pulling himself off a slice and taking a big bite, he sighed in relief and then shook his head. "You're amazing. This is just what I needed. How are you, then? Did I keep you too long in the shop with my demands for eclairs?"