RP: Spa Day! Who: Terence & Oliver When: Saturday, April 20th, 2009 (backdated) Where: The spa! What: Luxuriating, of course. Warnings: Language
Oliver stepped out of the infrared sauna and adjusted the towel slung low over his hips.
"Fucking hell I forgot just how fast that heat creeps up on you." The saunas were always a favorite of his and this spa boasted nearly ten different styles. The traditional wet Finnish sauna was his favorite though Oliver enjoyed the brutally hot Russian sauna for the simple fact the opportunity to throw ice cold water on Terence was always available thanks to the plethora of taps and buckets.
"What next? The massage isn't for another hour or so."
***
"I can't say that I know how anyone could possibly forget that," Terence muttered, his thumb comfortably hooked around his towel as he glanced around the place. Ollie was right, of course, they did have some time to kill.
"Oh, definitely the hot tub, but first, I'm going to take a dip in the ice pool so I can shock my system back into gear after that sauna..." Throwing a grin over his shoulder, Terence momentarily rid himself of his towel and promptly jumped into the ice pool, reemerging a moment later with a gasp. "Jesus! Whew, okay-- yeah, I'm awake--"
***
"Yeah you're absolutely mental," Oliver replied, reaching down to snatch the towel off floor before it soaked up too much water. How Terence could stand that water was an absolute mystery as Oliver barely liked to use the cold water in the Russian sauna despite the intense heat prickling at his skin.
With a shake of his head and extending towel to his Seeker, he looked down the hall in the direction of the Turkish style hot tub. At least it was something hot.
***
Shaking the water out of his hair not entirely unlike a dog, he grinned up at Oliver. "You should come in, it's lovely!"
Getting back up out, he happily reclaimed the towel to dry off his face before making his way down the hall with a grin. "How's the family drama going, anyway? Your brother still on the outs with your old man?"
***
Droplets of ice cold water splattered Oliver's skin resulting in a Yelp and a few hearty Scottish swears. Of the few things he absolutely loathed cold water was one of them. Sure, Oliver would put up with it during a match but in situations like this all bets were off.
"Eh, yeah. Logan is refusing to speak to him and vice versa." A crease of annoyance formed between Oliver's brows. "I was too hard on him. I shouldn't have flapped like that." They continued down the main hall, passing two girls in bikinis who looked and Terence and peeled into nervous giggles. "You gonna cover up proper or you just wanna air it all out first?" He grinned to his best friend, glancing back at the two girls who had done the same.
***
"You two are talking, aren't you? Pretty sure you're not the problem here. You got over yourself. Your dad didn't. Though it probably wouldn't hurt if you talked to your father about all this... tried to make him see Logan's perspective."
A small, cocky smile came over his features as he glanced down at himself with an appraising grin, glancing back up at Oliver with a shrug. "I'm sure the fresh air wouldn't hurt." Hanging up his towel, he moved to climb into the tub. "You coming?"
***
A pained sort of noise sounded from Oliver; he had tried to talk to Angus about Logan: insisting that he was actually quite brilliant at acting and was much happier. Of course their legacy would always be Quidditch but couldn't acting have a place as well?
He sighed a long suffering sort of sigh.
"What's your yer bird gonna think that I've seen your bell end more than her?" Still, Oliver disrobed without further complaint and slipped into the hot tub. A high pressure stream of water cascaded down from the middle of the ceiling.. Supposedly it was infused with minerals to penetrate deep in the muscles though Oliver never could tell a difference.
"Fuck's sake I needed this." He sighed, easing his back against an underwater jet.
***
Terence just grinned. "What's to say that you have?" Okay, so maybe Silvie had been fairly busy of late, and in Scotland, too, for that matter-- honestly, it was just a matter of time before she was the one they were making rumors about, her having fallen in love with one of the actors, or something like it... truth be told, the thought made him a little ill, even in the hypothetical.
On the other hand, Oliver was right. They had needed this, and the relaxation would no doubt help their playing. Maybe they could send the rest of the team in for some restorative spa time, as well...
"Speaking of your brother, I decided to start up a gentleman's club-- you know, Quigley, Flint, Pucey, Krum, you, guys like that-- but I haven't been able to decide if we should invite our brothers. So I figured I'd leave it up to you." It was much easier on him that way, Ter turning to throw him a cheeky grin.
***
"Oh I saw that string of texts." Oliver could be very hit or miss in answering texts, as they often we're buried under the sea of never ending messages, emails and calls. Many times he'd read a message and simply forget to reply. "I dunno, what have our little brothers actually done to warrant such a gift?" A sly grin crept on his lips.
Kit and Logan were obviously talented individuals and very accomplished in their own unique ways but they weren't Quidditch players or even in their inner circle. No admitting those two simply due to family ties would open up the option to other male siblings and then they might as well make it a public group. Oliver moved to the waterfall while relaying this concern.
***
Terence couldn't help but bark out a laugh, his head falling back as he slowly nodded. "True enough!"
Joining Oliver beneath the waterfall, he grinned. "Zabini and I have been planning. We'll trade off on hosting locations, no obligations involved in showing up, so whoever can make it, makes it, and then we just kick back." No responsibilities, even if just for one evening. Pucey had put it best, really-- a refuge to get away and drink and smoke where their women would not be in any position to be reproachful.
***
"Zabini?" Oliver frowned slightly, moving forward so the high pressure from the waterfall could beat down on his back. It wasn't that Oliver had a reason to dislike Blaise; if anything the man had always been overly accommodating when he'd sit in on interviews, but the fact he owned the Prophet gave cause for alarm. "You don't think inviting him to something like that with a bunch of," he paused, trying to find the right word. 'Famous' seemed too crass. "Men that sell papers is risky?"
***
Oh, he should have anticipated this, Ter turning to Oliver with a shrug. "Zabini's a good friend and a housemate, and I'm pretty sure he knows that if he were to go behind my back, the Prophet would have a lawsuit on their hands the size of Scotland." A smirk. "Us Slytherins are loyal until we get fucked with. Then it's open season. No one fucks with my friends." And Oliver just so happened to be at the top of that particular list.
***
The warm water stung like thousands of little needles in an oddly satisfying yet painful way. Every time Oliver visited he'd push himself to stay in longer than before.
"I understand that," Still, he couldn't shake the skeptical feeling when it came to the Slytherin editor. Whatever reservations Oliver had died with shrug. "If you think he's trustworthy, then I suppose we could add him." Blaise had been a Quidditch player at Hogwarts, adding him to the group made more sense than their little brothers. Finally the tingling sensation became too much, and Oliver stepped out from under the fountain, kneeling down so that his chest and head floated above the water.
The entrance door opened and one of the girls making eyes at them poked her head in, giggled, and shut the door behind her with a snap.
"You ever notice you can tell who the American tourists are?" He grinned. "For one they always wear their swimsuit and towels."
***
If anything leaked, it would be on Ter to fix it. And Oliver was particularly important in that regard. They were, after all, rather newsworthy. Or, at least, Terence had been newsworthy. "You know, I've been really pretty happy lately, but it's also made me a lot less scandalous. Isn't that fucked up?" No wonder celebrity culture was so toxic.
Glancing up at the intruders, Ter grinned as he looked back at Oliver. "Mmhmm. This country has so many iconic ~sex symbols. You'd think that they were a little less weird about the topic."
***
"Don't you know that you're only as good as you are marketable?" Oliver laughed, but deep down the words stung as much as his skin. Puddlemere was easily the most media-heavy and aggressively marketed team in the British and Irish Leagues. Their days micromanaged, their images carefully crafted, and everything approved before any action taken. The control simultaneously felt as heavy as wet cotton and as comforting as a tightly bound blanket.
A bark of a laugh sounded from Oliver. "You're boring, Ter. Jenni is going to get cross with you." Jenni, their publicist, had a keen nose for keeping her boys in the papers in the way that benefited the team. "Careful or she's going to place you in some ridiculous ad targeted to housewives now that you're domestic."
The door to the hot tub opened once more, instead of the two tourists Oliver's regular masseuse, an older scowling Slavic woman named Danica, nodded curtly to him and held up five fingers to indicate how much longer. Not unlike a dog, Oliver perked up expectantly.
"Finally," he hissed, relieved. "I really need this."
***
Oliver was all too right, of course. Letting his head fall back, he allowed the waterfall to run over his face before sitting back up and shaking his hair out. "Don't even joke about that," he snorted. "Catherine-- Walsh, yeah? the agent?-- she set up a sexyphotoshoot for Silvie and me because we were doing too good a job of staying out of the press." He hadn't even been aware of the fact that that was possible.
Breathing a sigh of genuine relief, he threw Oliver a grin at the similarity of his sentiment. "You and me both, mate. You and me both."
***
Shaking his head like a golden dog, spraying droplets in all directions. "A sexy photoshoot?" Oliver waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I never know of you not taking any opportunities to flaunt your stuff." Terence was always the more extroverted, overly showy of Puddlemere's dynamic duo. Throwing Angelina into to mix and adding alcohol was not unlike throwing lighter fluid onto a bonfire.
Danica's exit signaled the countdown for Oliver. Wishing to stay longer in the warm, swirling waters, he hoisted himself out. "You think we should clue the rest of the team in on this?" Spa day had always very much been Oliver and Terence's 'thing', though it couldn't hurt to add the team to the mix. Relaxing them might even help improve performance. Oliver toweled himself off, looking curiously up at his Seeker.
***
"Oh, please," Terence rolled his eyes. "We all play our parts. Doesn't mean we have to like them." That, more than anything, had been part of what had ultimately brought Terence and Oliver together. Regardless of what it might look like on the outside, they shared an astonishing hatred for the press-- and the accompanying spotlight.
Heaving a great sigh, Ter moved to get up, letting his head fall back before allowing it to resurface. "If we must. But only if you promise me that we can still have the occasional spa day just the two of us. Otherwise, the press is going to start thinking that you're cheating on me."
***
"We certainly can't disappoint the ladies that, erm," The fluffy towel used to dry himself off now tucked snuggly around Oliver's waist. "'shipping'? Yeah, that. The ladies who ship us." If anything the gay rumors boosted those damn magazine sales, which made the marketing department very happy, which in turn made Jenn happy, which made Oliver happy. "But think of the media scandal! Our entire team: one big bugger fest."
Cackling to himself, Oliver walked to the door and waited for Terence.
***
"Shipping," Terence muttered, shaking his head to himself with a chuckle. What the reason had been for the nautical theme, he'd never know. "Think there's any men that get a kick out of those rumors? I mean I just don't get why women would want two attractive sports stars to be unavailable to them." It made no sense.
At his comment, though, he couldn't help but throw his head laugh with a howl of laughter. "God! If only Angie could be part of it! Then people would start speculating about which of us had knocked her up in George's stead."
***
Oliver shrugged his shoulders, pausing to look at the translucent reflection of himself in the infrared sauna room and sighed. Stress and the sun was starting to take a toll on his face judging by the slight crinkle at the edge of his eyes and between the brows. Fucking hell, hopefully something could be done about that.
"Clearly she would have used voodoo magic to combine all our genes into one super baby." Oliver smirked, index finger trying to flatten out a stubborn line. "Do you think I should do some sort of mask? I can't imagine these muggle face masks actually do anything." Though he was partial to the chocolate one.
***
"Obviously," Terence grinned, running his hand through his hair as he considered Oliver's proposal with a soft shrug. "Might as well try, right? No real harm in giving it a shot." Anything that simultaneously involved chocolate and the ability to improve one's looks was more than fine by him.
***
With another shrug, Oliver dropped his hand with a tired jerk. At least there were potions and what not that could undo what gravity did to him.
"Yeah, suppose you're right."
Danica exited the room and motioned at the two of them to follow her. Oliver caught Terence's eye with a grin, nodded, and hurried off to an hour of relaxation.