|Still, where did the lighter fluid come from? (emiime) wrote in percy_ficathon,|
@ 2008-07-10 10:27:00
|Entry tags:||fic, percy/oliver, pg, slash|
A gift for nimrod9!
Title: A Break in Routine
Word Count: 1309
Disclaimer: The characters within are the creation of JK Rowling and are not used for personal gain.
Summary: Percy Weasley is generally quite pleased with his routine.
Notes: All apologies for the shortness and the lack of smut. I’ve never written much Percy before and although I had great ideas, it was hard to get them out. I hope you like it.
Percy Weasley was generally quite pleased with his life. Every weekday he woke up and had a bowl of healthy cereal -one cup of milk, exactly- and a glass of orange juice. From half past eight till one, he sat at his desk at the Ministry, sorting through official correspondence. From one until two, giving five minutes each way for travel, he sat at his small table in the outdoor courtyard to eat lunch. A bagel, cut into quarters, orange juice and a blueberry muffin. He liked to see the sun shining down through the enormous glassed dome onto the grass below. And, of course, it was the exact half way point between his office and his regular bagel shop. From two until five, it was back to official correspondence and then home by floo. Weekends were not much to mention.
Percy Weasley was generally quite pleased with his home. It was a two story flat on the West side of London, only a twelve and a half minute walk to the Ministry, in the rain, eleven and a half if it was sunny. The kitchen was simple but functional, the library well stocked, and the bedroom, well, Percy had long ago decided that a bedroom was simply a place to store clothes and sleep and had therefore left it alone. The best feature to his home, as Percy would often note to his few visitors, was the large picture window in the library. From it he could see the city stretched below and the sky bright blue above. Not only that, he would point out, but it was sure to increase the resale value, should he ever decide to sell.
Percy Weasley was generally quite pleased with the way his life was going. He had thought for sure that his professional life would be a shambles after the war but with the assistance of his family and Harry, he had been accepted back into a new, improved Ministry with open arms. In fact, having been one of the few people remaining, who hadn’t turned out to be evil, was quite an opportunity. It only took Percy seventeen months to be promoted from Assistant to the Minister of International Magical Cooperation to Minister of Magical Transportation. His family had been quite proud and had even thrown him a party (with a hideous pink cake that Percy had tried his best to smile while eating). His routine was set and his life in order. Absolutely nothing needed to change.
At first he thought it was a fly, the annoying shadow that seemed to flit over his newspaper, but no amount of shooing would keep it away. In fact, the more he waved his hand in the air, the larger the speck got, until it covered the entirety of “Welsh Wizards Today.”
“Perce!” Percy peered up from his lunch but saw no one looking in his direction. “Percy!”
Anyone at the Ministry who knew him would know that he wasn’t to be disturbed on his lunch. Already, Percy was quite perturbed.
The voice was closer this time, or seemed to be. It radiated overhead, filling the glass dome but despite the ever-looming shadow its actual source was still nowhere to be seen. Percy picked up a section of bagel and turned the second page of his paper. He was quickly engrossed in an article detailing the most recent Gringott’s report, that is until the sun was blocked it out entirely, making it most unreadable. Looking straight up this time, he was startled to see a figure sitting firmly atop a broomstick, hovering only a few feet in the air above him.
“Let me guess, a bagel, cut by four, orange juice and a blueberry muffin,” the figure laughed. “I should have guessed you wouldn’t change much.”
Confused, Percy stared down at his perfectly described lunch, frowning and looking back up only when the voice had truly registered. “Wood?”
“One and only, Perce,” Oliver replied, coasting down to the ground, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Before Percy could even blink, Oliver’s broomstick was propped up against the table and the man himself was seated in the next chair over. “It’s been ages, Perce. What? Five years?”
“I generally eat lunch alone,” he stated firmly, taking a sip from his juice as if to emphasize the point. “It’s my routine.” He tried his best to ignore the way his heart seemed to be beating double-time in his chest and his breath seemed too hard to catch. It had indeed been five years. The last time he had seen Oliver Wood had been the first anniversary memorial. It hadn’t really been a great time to catch up. Not that there had been much to catch up on anyhow. I mean, what exactly was it that Percy would say? That Oliver had been wonderful wank fodder for years four through seven? “I…” he stuttered. “I like my routine.”
“No kidding,” Oliver grinned cheekily, swiping Percy’s muffin off of the table. “I could set a watch by how often you took a piss back in school. Not surprised to find you working here.” He slowly peeled back the wrapping from the bottom of the muffin; a movement which Percy was quite sure wasn’t supposed to look that graceful. Not that he was looking, of course. At least, not any more than any normal person would. “I suppose you also live in a tidy little house with Penny Clearwater and your two-point-five kids?”
“Actually,” Percy straightened up in his seat, trying to guard the rest of his lunch with his elbow, “I am single and I’m a homosexual.” It was as close to gay pride as he could come.
“Fuck’off!” Oliver shouted, just loud enough for the profanity to echo through the large courtyard, earning them several stares. Percy hated when people stared. “You aren’t bent!” The Scottish accent, which up until this point had just barely been noticeable in Oliver’s speech, now came on thick. He seemed intent on making as much noise as humanly possible and Percy dropped his own voice in response.
“I am not bent, I’m homosexual,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “And I don’t see how any of it is particularly your business. Everyone knows here and no one cares. Besides, what are you even doing here? The Ministry is private property.”
“Ahhh, you’re so cute when you’re pissed’off,” Oliver laughed, brushing the inevitable muffin crumbs off of his trousers and onto the floor. “I’ll have you know, I’m the new Professional Liaison to the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
Percy’s jaw dropped. Oliver Wood, working at the Ministry?! Everyday. In his building. In his courtyard. It would never…
The look on Percy’s face just caused Oliver to laugh. “Ah Perce, it’s not that bad. Don’t worry; I won’t change your routine.” Grabbing his broom from its resting spot, Oliver leaned over Percy’s table, planting a firm kiss on his unsuspecting lips. The first thought that came to Percy mind was that someone was touching him. This wasn’t so odd of a sensation. He received plenty of hugs and slaps on the back at family dinners. The second thought, however, was that this was far from a familial hug. Oliver’s lips were warm and wet and ohsogood. Too good, Percy reasoned (or attempted to reason). Too shocked to move, the redhead could only sit with his mouth still agape, as Oliver hopped back on his broom. “Well, I won’t change it too much,” he laughed, as he flew back off into the courtyard.
Percy Weasley was missing half of his lunch, had horribly smudged glasses, reddened lips and, though he would never admit it, had managed to drool on his newspaper. His routine was in a shambles. And Percy Weasley was generally, if secretly, quite pleased.