Cormac McLaggen is probably plotting your demise (mclager) wrote in novsila_rpg, @ 2014-12-29 00:53:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | cormac mclaggen, oliver wood |
Who: Oliver and Cormac
What: Agreeing to take this to the grave
When: December 28, early afternoon
Status: Complete!
Cormac was actually in a pretty good mood all things considered. Even if he had to come down to the building where his agent was today. Oh well, it could have been worse than just having to go over a few things. Not like his contract was up any time soon, since Warrington had giving him the three year extension not that long ago. All in the name of trying to keep himself and Ryan on the same team for a bit longer. They might not have gotten along all that well off the pitch at times, but at least they were able to work stupidly well up in the air together. So, at least there was that.
After a relatively short meeting Cormac started his way out running down the list of things he needed to get done before he headed home for the evening when the exit he usually used was blocked off for maintenance. He sighed a bit and decided to take a shortcut through one of the halls when he literally ran into someone. Mac didn’t move back all that much, but he grunted rather loudly. Oh goodie. Wood. Just who he needed to bump into today. They had the whole feckin’ hall and they just had to bump into each other. Mac made another little grunt as he started back on his way...but then found he couldn’t move very far. “The fuck....” he finally said as he tried to take a few steps...but was unable to. “Oh you’ve got to be fuckin’ with me....” he said looking up to see a damnable mistletoe above his head.
--------
Much like Mac, Oliver was in a great mood. Excluding the whole attack of the lights thing that got him and Summer a bit too close for anyone’s comfort, things were looking good. He had been on a roll the past few games, setting records and holding off the offense. He had a smile on his face now more than ever because of Summer, and he had been getting along swimmingly with his team. Even though he was still waiting to know if he would be getting into the stupid calendar was not an issue. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing bad about it now. He had been riding that high throughout the whole meeting with his agent as he signed a new contract with a brand for gloves. He didn’t really like the last company he was pitched, but this one had a nice grip and were light.
He had been on his way back to the office’s main area to pick up some paperwork for his manager when someone ran into him. Much like the body in front of him, there was very little movement backwards, but it had to be one of the few bodies capable of actually making him budge. So much for the good mood. Oliver looked up at Mac and was about to step to the side when he heard Mac’s cursing. He did not need to look up, he just had to watch the other man’s face to know what had happened. Oliver was positive he had escaped it this year. Oh, but of course, that would only mean he would be stuck in the worst place of all. Under it with Cormac. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered and crossed his arms angrily. “No.”
-----
There was only one person on this planet that Cormac could think of that would be worse to be stuck under the mistletoe with, and that was fucking Hastings. But Oliver came a very close second in that regards at the moment. As if to demonstrate his lack of willingness to kiss Oliver, Cormac took a few steps away from the other man, as many as the perimeter around them would allow. Which, wasn’t much, but it still made a point. He looked over at the other man and just shook his head.
“Fine with me. ‘m not plannin’ on doin’ anything else with me life from this point on.” he said grumpily, clearly, fully resolved to sit here and starve to death instead of just man up and kiss Oliver. Nope. Never. Ever. He’d rather make out with a feckin’ sheep. At that moment, he was fully set on holding back a comment of ‘besides, you couldn’t handle it anyway.’, since he’d really rather not start a brawl in such close quarters. Not that he couldn’t handle wood, but besides, he didn’t want the stupid weed above them to get any ideas. Instead he crossed his massive arms over his chest and slightly turned his back to the other man.
----
Perhaps there is a small grace for Mac that he would never match up to the dislike for Flint. No one ever could. All the same, it was not Flint standing here in this situation. It was Mac. And as the other man back peddled slightly, he mirrored it, unashamed to wanting space between them. This was not going to happen. He’d literally die before he gave even the lightest peck to his forehead, never mind a kiss to the mouth. As Mac commented about not having anything to do for the rest of his life, Oliver thought of his dogs. Fuck. They need someone to take care of them.
But. No. someone else could easily walk down this hall as well. Anyone. Even if it was Carver or someone else. His nostrils flared in aggravation as Mac turned away slightly He really just wanted to knock him in the back of the head, even if that wasn’t fair. So instead, he leaned back a little and chewed the inside of his lip. He didn’t know how long they had stood there before Oliver cleared his throat. He needed to get home. “Any chance you brought your journal with you,” he muttered. Als would probably show up and at least have someone come along to help out and free him.
-----
There was no doubt about it, he was getting more and more annoyed at the situation as time pressed on. If he ever found out who released these stupid things into the world, he would kick their ass. Assuming that someone, or time, hadn’t already taken care of that for him. He wasn’t actually sure if these were charmed or natural weeds. Herbology had never been his strong subject. Either way, he was a annoyed and the sound of Oliver's voice was grating on him just making him more annoyed at the situation. Logically, he knew that was unfair, but he was kind of refusing to be logical at the moment. Though, he did resist a bit of an eyeroll before patting down his pockets a bit....
“Shit.” he said when he realized that all he had on him was a yet to be opened pack of cigarettes, his wallet and house keys. Well, at least he could have one if things got too bad. Probably drive the ponce a little mad if he did. So...maybe that was an upside. Maybe. “No. I left it at home.” he turned slightly and scowled. “‘m guessin’ you dinna have yours either?” Great. Just great. Someone would have to come looking for them eventually right?
-----
He thought he had made it clear this year. Oliver had dodged them the entire season the mistletoes had been growing about. But it seemed that this year was like every other, and he would get stuck. At least last time it was with a bird, and not… Mac. And out of all the males, too. He was not so uncomfortable in himself that kissing a guy would be wrong in his mind. It may not not have been what he was into, and it would do nothing for him. But it wouldn’t be weird. Then again, even if Mac were a lass, he was certain that kissing him would be weird. Beyond that, Mac was dating his best mate. And he did not like that more than anything. Well, the fact that he was dating Alicia, yes, but also the fact that chances are the only way to get free before they died of starvation was… make him cheat on her.
This. Sucked.
If Mac lit up, Oliver would not have minded, much to his companion’s discontent. Smoke didn’t bother him that much, as his father smoked quite a bit. Still, hearing that Mac did not have a journal made him exhale heavily out of his nose. He may need one of those cigarettes soon. “No, left it in the conference room,” he replied. His journal was where he was headed. And if Oliver had one, did Mac think he was so thick as to not have used it already? He looked up at the ceiling. he did not want to point out that they really had one option that was reasonable. And as much as Mac may have sounded honest in saying that he had nothing to do, Oliver was quite sure that wasn’t entirely true.
-----
Some people may not believe it, but Cormac did try not to be judgmental about blokes kissing blokes and what not. Actually, truth be told, Carver had a rather large impact on that, however, that didn’t stop him from being uncomfortable at the thought of it. He was just from a rather conservative family, and old habits tended to die hard with him. But he tried, it just simply meant that it wasn’t for him and he just left it at that. What bothered him the most was the idea of having to get himself out of this and cheating on Alicia. Something he would never, ever, ever, ever do. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. She meant too damn much to him to really screw that up. Which is partly why he was more than content to stand there and starve to death first. No one could ever accuse him of not being loyal to the ones he cared about. Well, they could, but Mac would at least have cause to beat the shit out of them if they kept trying.
At that response, Mac cursed under his breath and started to wonder if this was going to actually have to be a thing. But part of him just really did not want to be the one to bring it up. He could hold out longer than Wood. He could. But should he? That was the question and to his credit, he actually was thinking about maybe, possibly, perhaps just maybe suggesting something. Naturally, what he’d like to do was reach up and break the thing into bits, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t work. “‘m guessin’ lightin’ it on fire isn’t going ta work.” he said trying to think of any other possible way to get out of this. “‘m goin’ ta pretend none of this happened.” he muttered quietly to himself.
---------
He may not like Mac, but Oliver would never want to put him in a position to fail. It was against the man’s nature to do that, no matter who it was. And with the man being so linked to Alicia (for better or worse) that meant Oliver was more prone to wanting some level of success for the man. Even if he also would not be sad if he randomly got knocked out mid-game more often. Not badly injured…. just slightly. But that was not important here. What was important sat above their head and held him all-too close to what people could call his rival. And he was not as stubborn as the man pretended to be at times. He had reasons to go home.
“Assuming, not,” he replied shortly. This was stupid. He really wanted to just kill all things mistletoe shaped for the rest of his life. What caught him off guard was catching the mutter coming from Mac. He sighed once more out of his nose and ran his hand through his hair, then over his beard. A part of him knew that this really was nothing more than inflamed egos at work. Anyone else other than Flint, and this would not be weird. Strat? Carver? Blake? Hell, even Miles would not make this as hard to accept as Mac. “It never happened,” he muttered himself. He refuses to make eye contact with Mac, but his eyes did flicker to look down at him and then back to the weed.
------
Even with Conrad, Mac’s best friend, this would be hard to accept. It just so happened that it was that much harder to accept that this was going to have to happen with...Oliver. Feckin’. Wood. When Mac heard Oliver mutter that he ran his palm over his face and tried to think of one last ditch effort to blow the stupid weed up into a million pieces. But sadly, nothing came to mind and he secretly vowed to always carry some sort of cherry bomb on him at all times in December from now on. Cormac slowly turned towards the other man and forced himself to look at him, otherwise he’d just stand there for the rest of the day. “Go to the grave with this.” he said more as a promise than some sort of threat.
He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, feeling slightly like he was going to vomit, but got it under control. It was a damn kiss. It’d be fine. It wasn’t like this was some sort of horrible trick and there was no one else around to see this happening to further the humiliation of having to do it in the first place. “Counta three?” he said figuring that might make it easier. Or hoping anyway.
-----
At Mac’s comment, Oliver finally stopped averting his eyes. No, at least they could agree on this: death to all mistletoe from hereon out. And there was some twisted enjoyment in knowing that, if nothing else, this was just as awkward for Mac. Maybe more awkward. The little things. But Oliver nodded and once more ran his hand over his beard and mouth. “To the grave,” he repeated in a low tone. He was not going to tell anyone. Ever. There was nothing Mac had to worry about in that sense at least.
Count of three? Was this really that type of thing? Sadly, it was. Because that was the only way Oliver would a agree. Like hell would he make the move first. At the same time was, if nothing else, a fair way to meet in the middle on this. Neither wanted to kiss. Neither wanted to stay there and rot. Neither would enjoy it. No one would know. “Yeah,” he agreed. He cleared his throat again. His hand balled into a fist and relaxed a few times as he really tried to not… think about it. But he kept his eyes on Mac waiting for the counting to start. Perhaps the only time they would ever be on the same page, because the counting started and on three, he closed his eyes and had no desire to see Mac that close ever. Ever.
It was short and it was… well… Oliver could not move away fast enough after the feeling of lips and…
Facial hair. Good heavens, that was the most uncomfortable and unpleasurable sensation he had felt in a while, and it caused a shiver up his spine in every bad way possible. But to Mac’s credit, Oliver was impressed that he not just went through with it, but did stick to the three. Once a comfortable distance, the man was relieved to have felt the ability to step backwards and farther away.
------
The sheer amount of mental prep that it took Mac to get ready for this was more than any game he’d ever prepared for. More than going to his first tryout with the Belfast Bulls. More than asking Als to be his girlfriend. None of that compared to how he had to mentally ready himself to move in, bend down so that he could reach the other man’s lips easier and pressed his own lips against Olivers.
It wasn’t all that long, thank the Good Lord, but it was just long enough for Cormac to really register that this was one of the singularly most uncomfortable things in his life. And there were a great many uncomfortable things in his life. The sex talk with his father for example. There’d been hand puppets...and Cormac was leaving it at that. As soon as they broke apart from that brief moment Cormac likewise took a few steps away and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He placed one in his mouth and offered Oliver up one as he lit up. Had to get that feeling of man-lips off of him with something else. Anything else. And that was the closest thing at the moment.
“To the grave.” he said repeating his promise before having to just...walk away from this before he did something he regretted like punching Oliver on principal or some other bull shit.
----
Oliver did not hesitate to accept the cigarette and light it himself. He was not one to smoke, not that he never had before, but this was no time to discuss cigars, and Mac was completely correct. he wanted something else to focus on than the feeling of kissing a man. He never had an issue with others doing it, but Merlin it was not for him. And he never wanted to even think about it again. He took a deep breath before repeating, “Too the grave.” When he watched Cormac walk away he took a few long drags of the cigarette before looking down at it and knowing it was going to kill his run later, but it was worth it. Before long, it was finished and Oliver, too, left the hallway. he was never walking through there again.