Percy/Oliver
'Oy! Perc!' Just like the night before, Oliver's voice cut loud and clear through the bustling of the gathering. A voice trained for shouting orders down the pitch; he was impossible to ignore, just as Percy was impossible to miss with his red hair shockingly bright against the dull matted browns and false blondes.
Waving Percy over from across the yard, Oliver was taking a rest in a lawn chair, his crutch laying in the grass beside him. They were full up on people and even more on pancakes so Oliver could afford a rest without the masses going hungry. Which worked perfectly timing wise because after Percy's reluctant admittance Oliver was quite curious to ask him more about his orientation. If he could even get Percy talking on the subject again.
What struck Oliver as odd above all else was how he hadn't noticed and because he was self-centered, what that meant about himself