Who: Percy + Wilson What: Ice cream, mini-putt When: 4/9 Where: Around town Rating: Low. Fluff. Maybe their really weird senses of humor should have a warning though. Status: Complete
Percy had a problem. Normally when he had problems, he saw them as something he needed to deal with -- by either a) actually dealing with it or b) trying to convince himself it wasn’t a problem and then ignoring it.
His current problem could not be solved with either A or B.
Life, as he knew it, was over.
“I can’t choose,” he told his boyfriend as they stared down at the flavors of custard on display. Indecision did not suit Percy Weasley. He really didn’t know how random attempts at being cute were going for him, either.
“Get a scoop of each,” Wilson offered cheerfully. He ordered butter rum, in a cone, if only for the novelty of it. Wilson had always been a problem solver, and he liked that Percy seemed happier with him.
Really, they both did. Wilson actually had taken to whistling when he walked down the halls of the hospital. Which was odd for him.
Percy didn’t whistle -- not outside of his own apartment walls, anyway -- but he had improved in mood enough lately to be somewhat social, and that really had to count for something, hadn’t it?
“That’s gluttony,” he pointed out, and pushed his glasses a little higher up on his nose. In the end, did wind up with raspberry and chocolate though, because apparently those were two of his favorite things. That were foods, anyway.
“It’s indulgent. It’s only gluttony if you do it often.” Wilson had also gotten sprinkles, and he smirked to himself. There was something decadent about the little sugar sprinkles, especially when it was during the day and he was still wearing his tie.
Sprinkles are the devil, Wilson. They’re just little bits of sugar that ruin the texture of everything else you’re eating. Know that.
“One tends to lead to the other,” Percy shrugged, but it was clear he was being the devil’s advocate just for the sake of having something to say, since he seemed exceptionally pleased about everything when an employee handed him his cone.
Wilson smirked as he nibbled happily, looking for all the world like a much younger version of himself. Squeezing Percy’s hand, he moved to sit down, nibbling and waggling his eyebrows at his boyfriend.
“Only if you let it. I won’t let you become some ice cream mad glutton. Promise.”
“My hero,” Percy said, tone wry, before licking at his own ice cream a bit like the cat who got the cream. He’d recently found all the sass reserves ever, and seemed to have no problem letting loose with it basically whenever he felt like. Probably, it had something to do with regular sex.
“I am pretty dashing, aren’t I?” Wilson grinned, idly playing footsie under the table. Per usual, Wilson was secretly witty, always had been, and continued to snark a bit in his own quiet way. “So, what else are you going to do this evening?”
“You are,” Percy agreed, and it was an earnest response this time, because he actually believed it to be so. The redhead peeked under the table before scooting forward enough where their knees bumped together.
“Didn’t have any other plans,” he admitted, and forgot to tack on an innuendo.
“We should do something. Like a date.” Wilson smiled, leaning forward to steal a bite of Percy’s ice cream.
Maybe it was a little silly for him to do so, but Percy blushed at the suggestion anyway. He resisted the urge to purposefully get ice cream on Wilson’s nose -- just barely. “Oh?” he asked, “What do you think we should do?” They didn’t do date-type things often, and Percy had to admit not knowing much about what people did for those things. Movies? Dinner? ... Were there other things?
“I don’t know. We could go have sex in a law library. We could go miniature golfing.” Wilson tried to think of things, but then he was making noises at the raspberry custard. “Oh, getting that next time, holy crap.”
Percy was not a stranger to Wilson’s little episodes of foodgasm at this point, yet every time he had one, it left Percy’s stomach fluttering oddly. It was hard to get around his own obvious attraction -- to stay still and only smile instead of dragging James somewhere private where he might be able to get him to make more of those little noises. “It is good,” he agreed mildly, because he wasn’t sure what else to say on the matter that might not be wholly incriminating.
“What would you like to do on our date?” Wilson leaned back, offering Percy some of his butter rum.
Declining the butter rum due to a disinterest in sprinkles, Percy shook his head and then leaned back a little as well. Sort of. His posture never really went completely lax. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “Nothing in a law library.” Exhibitionism was one thing, but it’d be a little bit like having sex in a church for the redhead. Just -- nope. “I’ve never been mini-golfing, though.”
“We should do that, then.” That had really been Wilson’s idea; he’d never thought that Percy would really go for sex in a law library. And Wilson wouldn’t have known where to ejaculate in a library anyway. Doing that on books would be like sacrilege. “There’s one open late near here.” If Wilson ever used his planning for evil, he could take over the world. Fortunately for everyone, he used it for flirting.
Shame, because a nerdy doctor with a fairly liberal angle ruling the world might be a bit of a relief to some.
Percy crunched on the cone part of his ice cream for a bit before offering it to Wilson again (since he seemed to like it so well). “Seems good,” he said, wondering if his boyfriend was just a wealth of knowledge on the city, or if he just really liked minigolf. At least since it was later in the evening they could avoid more of the... young people. Percy wasn’t sure he could handle being obviously worse at something than a ten-year-old.
Wilson sighed as he nibbled a bit more raspberry. “It’s really just an excuse to cuddle and pretend that we’re sporty.” He didn’t like golf at all, mini or otherwise, but he kept a mental tally of entertainment venues around that he thought he might want to go to. He also used his phone constantly to look up things. He was a sneaky romantic.
“There’ll be fewer youths around at this time of night, too. Just sappy old people, like me.” He grinned to himself, having used an antiquated word to make Percy giggle.
It did make Percy giggle. That seemed to be something that really only Wilson managed to be able to do -- everyone else got polite smiles from Percy and little more. But there it was, a tiny little laugh that he hid behind a hand.
“I don’t think mini-putt is anyone’s excuse of being sporty,” he pointed out, but didn’t seem to mind that at all -- it wasn’t exactly like he was the sporty type. “Is there an age limit?” he asked then, teasingly. “Will they not let me in? You’ll be forced to associate with people your own age.” A tragedy, really.
“You have to be younger than twelve or older than thirty-six.” Wilson sounded grave, and he shook his head. “We’ll lie and say you just turned twelve last week. I’m your pervy uncle.” Wilson liked his giggle, and he chuckled in response. “Hey, mini-golf is very sporty. It involves walking and glaring at balls.”
Percy could only roll his eyes at the pervy uncle comment before stealing the rest of his ice cream back in order to finish it off himself - he licked his fingers rather delicately once he’d done just that.
“That’s sporty?” He asked, smiling innocently. “And here I thought that was something I could do at home.”
Wilson’s eyes went wide at Percy licking his fingers. “I - I’m sorry, what are we talking about?”
Percy blinked, eyes bright, but obviously a bit confused. “Er-- being sporty?” It was clear that sometimes he had no idea that the things he did could be considered even remotely attractive.
“Right.” Wilson leaned back and loosened his tie, cheeks a bit pink from arousal. “Sorry. Should we get going?” Before he ended up needing a while before he could stand up, that is.
It was possible that these two just shouldn’t be allowed in public, sometimes. Not together, anyway. Percy blinked again, looked at his boyfriend warily, and then nodded. “Right.” he agreed. “I’m just going to wash my hands---oh.” There it was. That’s what the face was for. Lesser men might take advantage.
Wilson couldn’t help but grin, biting his lower lip. “I’m terrible, aren’t I? Thinking awful things about you in an ice cream shop.” He shook his head. “I’m a special sort of pervy uncle.”
Percy gave an expression that was a strange mix between amusement and embarrassment. Sometimes, it was just hard to know which jokes he shouldn’t find funny. Maybe his sense of humor was more wicked and awful than he’d known. “Just so long as I can still look you in the eye on holidays?”
At least they shared the same sense of humor. “I don’t know, Christmases might get awkward.” Standing up, Wilson reached out for Percy’s hand, rubbing the knuckles affectionately. “But I’ll suffer through. You see the things I do for you?”
Percy stood as well, taking James’ hand and giving another tiny giggle. Awful. They were both awful. He liked it. “I’m sure,” he said, as they made their way to the exit, “that’s what all the pervy uncles say.”
“We have a union,” Wilson nodded, squeezing Percy’s hand. “You’d better be careful. Great representation. Dental, too. Someday you should join.” He couldn’t help but wink at him as they walked out, no more than he could help tugging him close and snogging him as they stood outside Percy’s car.
“There’s got to be a clause in that contract that deals with uncles dating other uncles though,” Percy pointed out, because of course he would like to imagine the imaginary rulebook for Pervert Uncles United. Luckily, he didn’t dwell on it too long -- kissing trumped most other things, after all. James and Percy excelled at kissing in parking lots; it was just a thing they did.
“Oh, if there’s a large age difference, I’m sure that makes a loophole.” Wilson grinned, nipping Percy’s lower lip gently. “I’m sleeping with this genius lawyer, I pick up some things. Cell diffusion.” He smiled wryly, but it soon grew fond the longer he looked at Percy. Even blind people could see that Wilson was stupid about him.
Mm, loopholes. Wilson might as well have been offering to take the boy to bed if he kept it up. “Not sure osmosis works that way,” Percy said, leaning ever closer to steal another kiss or twenty. “But I guess you are the doctor here.”
“Can I make an argument for sexual diffusion?” Wilson smirked, running a finger over the outside shell of Percy’s ear. “I’m sure you can find some sort of sneaky clause to make it okay for we uncles to hang out, right?”
Leaning into the touch, Percy gave a little snort of laughter. “I’ll request the paperwork,” he agreed, kissing Wilson’s palm before backing away a little to fish his keys out of his pocket to unlock his car. “Rest assured, I’ll find a way for us to be pervy together always.” Because that was love, or something. And then he opened the passenger’s side door for his boyfriend because perverts could also be gentlemen.
“I love you too,” Wilson beamed. Because what Percy had said was completely a declaration, a statement of intent, and Wilson knew it. They were both long haul sorts, not the kind of person to do anything on a whim. Even Wilson’s infidelities with his previous wives had not been on impulse.
“So. Are we off to the mini-golf? Where I’m from, we called it putt putt.” He grinned, reaching out to gently knead the back of Percy’s neck.
Well, at least it’d been obvious. Although occasionally subtle, there were some things that Percy rather liked being upfront about. Wilson was definitely one of those things. Not driving over fifteen miles over the speed limit at any given time was another, but that was neither here nor there.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Off to be sporty and glare at balls.” Seatbelts and stuff? Check.
“Huh, glaring at balls. Are we sporty urologists now?” Wilson waggled his eyebrows. Oh, doctor humor.
Seatbelt was latched, and Wilson’s tie was just a tiny bit loosened. “Shall we?”
Well. At least their humor was intelligently stupid, anyway. Percy only shook his head as he pulled out into the traffic cool as a freaking cucumber or whatever.
He always felt a little weird when he was dressed down in comparison to Wilson -- Percy had had time to change after work, and while still respectable in chinos and a button down t-shirt, he was lacking a tie. Maybe they could just keep working that uncle angle.
“Up the street here?” He asked, because he didn’t know. But could only assume the sign involving a pirate with a golf club was a decent clue in.
Nodding, Wilson just took his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt a few more. “Yes. It’s apparently pirate themed, for reasons that I’m sure have little to do with actual piracy and more with us being closeish to Disney.” Wilson liked Disney well enough, but pirates were just kind of boring to him. He wasn’t really a naval history kind of guy.
“Ah,” said Percy, as he parked and then took a moment to just watch his boyfriend undo his shirt some. He was glad he wasn’t driving anymore, because even those few buttons were distracting. Maybe he should make a set of Car Rules.
“I forget about Disney, sometimes,” the redhead admitted with a shrug. He hadn’t been in well over a decade, and found he didn’t really miss it much. Not much of a fan of pirates either, Percy did have to admit there were some merits to staring at Johnny Depp. “I’m sure pirates loved mini-putt, though.”
“I haven’t been in a while myself. I was always more of a Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride kind of guy anyway.” At least that was based on a book. He had his childhood copy on his bookshelf, the leather edges of the cover worn with use. “Oh, pirates do like the putt putt. Holes in one are tantamount to buried treasure. ... I’m reaching. That made no sense.” Wilson laughed to himself.
“You gave it the old college try, dear.” Percy said, attempting to sound sympathetic, but really just failing. The pat he gave Wilson’s shoulder probably wasn’t any more helpful, either. “Ready?”
“Let’s do this. Let’s very slowly and gingerly hit golf balls.” Wilson tried to sound like an action hero, but couldn’t help smiling at himself. After walking up to the counter, he picked out a putter and selected a ball for himself. Blue, naturally.
Naturally. Percy might have chose green, but couldn’t see the logic in why they even made that color when it was a game that was played on grass. So instead he settled for red and then they grabbed tiny little golf clubs that basically made them look giants before heading out to what was called the Course. Percy had never seen anything so gaudy. “Oh my,” he said, tone mild. “Watch out, world.”
“Clearly this is where the pirates stored the jewels that clashed with their hats,” Wilson mumbled. He wrinkled his nose and cocked his head. “Oh, look. A pirate themed windmill. I was unaware the Dutch were into naval theft. They seem so well-behaved.” He set his ball down, but then turned to Percy. “After you.”
Percy let out a guffaw at that, unable to help himself at all; his boyfriend was hilarious. He went pink over his own outburst but decided against saying anything about it at all and instead made a show of taking his turn first.
Despite its tackiness and lack of actual naval authenticity, mini-putt, it turned out, was actually something that took at least the talent of aim. Mostly, there was a lot of glaring.
Wilson ended up somewhat a prodigy at said mini-golf. He would later blame his excellent hand-eye coordination on the fact that he helped with a great many surgeries, but still, he felt sort of badly about the whole thing. “I should probably let you win, you know.” It wouldn’t do to have an unhappy boyfriend.
Hand-eye coordination? What was that? Percy clearly had no clue, since he missed actually hitting the ball more often than he should have. It was all sort of embarrassing; but at least there were only a few sappy old people to see his plight.
“Yes, I’d feel much better if you helped me cheat at miniature pirate golf,” Percy said even as he actually hit a ball only to have it bounce off of a giant sized plastic parrot and come rolling right back in his direction.
“To be fair, you did just beat the crap out of that parrot. My hero,” Wilson grinned, leaning over to snog Percy. Let the elderly be scandalized. Wilson didn’t care. His boyfriend had just clobbered a prey animal in his honor.
Or something.
“I deserve a knighting, at the very least,” Percy said, and didn’t much mind scandalizing the old people, either. All it really meant was that they weren’t in the Uncle Union anyway.
When he pulled away, it with with a tiny smile. “Just take your turn. Don’t cheat.”
Wilson took his turn, wincing when the ball ended up fairly close to the hole. “Sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be. This is a real talent to have, James. You should be proud.” Percy said, and then went about the trouble of making a show of biting his lip and wiggling a little before trying his shot again. So what if it did the exact same parrot trick as before?
“Yes. I’m pretty sure this will help me get a raise. Or something equally fabulous. Oooh, maybe I could win a talent contest. Or I could go pro. Get endorsements.” Wilson stopped speaking, eventually, and just stared. He sighed happily.
There was probably a Tiger Woods joke to make here, but Percy just couldn’t make himself do it. It seemed a little too awful. So that was where his humor ended. Good to know. He glanced up, noting the stare and the sigh and rose his eyebrows. “Hm?”
Wilson shook his head, smiling stupidly. “Hmm? Nothing, nothing, just ogling you.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you,” demurred Percy and grabbed his stupid red golf ball in one hand, and Wilson’s in the other before they headed off to let Wilson win some more.