Special Delivery For: pinkelephant42 Title: Don't Hate the Player, Hate the Groupies Author:lady_green_bat Recipient:pinkelephant42 Rating: R Pairing: Katie/Oliver Word Count: +3000 Warnings: Fluff, little bit of tasteful food play (no pun intended), oral Summary: Oliver doesn't know why Katie hates Valentine's Day. . . Author's Notes: Enjoy!
Oliver felt incredibly gratified.
He arched his torso off the double bed, feeling the stretch pull at the base of his spine, back of his thighs, shoulders, wrists; he was warm and wiggled down further amidst crumpled flannel blankets and not-so-crisp Puddlemere United insignia sheets. Oh bloody hell, he could stay in bed all evening. The Keeper brushed one broad hand over softly roped abdominal muscles and grunted, scratching above his belly button with a deep sense of satisfaction.
It had been a long day of strategy implementation and getting the mickey taken out of him by obnoxious team mates—ones that had been with Oliver since the beginning and those who had been around for only a few seasons both—so coming back to his and Katie's flat and an expectant bed was more of an enticement than usual. He had flicked another foil wrapper into a small blue rubbish bin, ready for round two, when the swish and click of the deadbolt and front door had Oliver's head jerking up.
"Oliver?"
. . . Shite.
"You home?"
Fuck fuckity shite shite fuck!
Oliver shoved the cocoa-covered cherry cream chocolate between his sugar-numbed lips and hastily pushed the newly opened heart shaped Valentine's box under his two heavy flax seed pillows. With reflexes a Cornish pixie would have envied, the Keeper was up, thick cream sweater falling back down around his denim-clad hips, and shoving various Love Day paraphernalia as far as he could under the bed where one certain blond haired blue eyed wife wouldn't be able to see and comment on (i.e. nag him into oblivion) over the crinkly red and rose paper, confections and plush Snitches, not to mention the bag full of addressed salacious cards and underwear he had had the presence of mind to throw out before coming home.
"Yeh, yeh Katie-girl!" he called out in an attempt to cover the noise, wondering how the hell she had got back so early from the hospital. Not that February was a particularly busy time for St. Mungo's but weren't the Harpies and Arrows third lines having a tournament for charity this week? Couldn't count on anyone to bash their head in these days. Damn Arrows. Where was the commitment to the game?!
"Oliver? I got pizza!"
"Wha—Oh that's wonderful girl!" Oliver cursed under his breath as a pink cellophane sheet refused to leave his wool sock without a fight. "Put on a warming charm and I'll be out in a minute!"
"And five new releases!" he could hear her walking through the kitchen, dropping bags and getting closer to the bedroom. "Our usual Fright Fest Against Flowers, and Merlin, I need it after today. . ." Taking a moment from his frantic scrambling Oliver stopped and sighed. He had hoped she would have bi-passed this 'tradition' of theirs this year.
Katie Wood nee Bell hated Valentine's Day.
While other husbands would be making expensive dinner reservations or extravagant displays of devotion in the form of jewel-encrusted diadems, Oliver hadn't had to remember even roses in more than ten years. At first this arrangement had been like a piece of Godric's heaven (no Slytherins, Quidditch every day). His lass was an even-tempered logical woman who didn't need or want materialistic expressions of his love or loyalty, didn't go into a vengeful snit if he let the day pass without some declaration of saccharine sweetness (Merlin help George if he forgot again this year), and she usually spent February 14th making fun of all the other poor sots who ran around like kneazles with their heads cut off trying to scrape together something romantic for their own less-than-tolerant wives and girlfriends. It was a fantastic concord. At first.
It wasn't so much as hating the day itself but for what she felt it stood. When Katie had originally seen the chocolates and cards and moving cupids that were delivered in the hundreds by tired owls that first year, she had snorted and teased Oliver mercilessly about how his fans were dying inside now that he was 'off the market', finishing by charming two ridiculous pairs of heart-covered boxers to follow him around their flat. The next year she hadn't been so happy, complaining about the cost and environmental effects of such a large amount of gaudy garbage. It could only get worse after that to the point where Oliver was now trying to imitate a scurrying rat, hiding his hoard of free loot from the person he loved most in the world simply because said woman would rip him a new arse hole if she caught sight of it.
And Katie was a Healer. She could really do it.
Oliver had been too pleased with her predilection in the beginning to ask for details, the whys and the how's. Unfortunately, the problem was that Oliver didn't share Katie's enthusiastic hate, thought the cheap goodies and over-stuffed merchandise was rather cute. It was also a boost to his pride unsurprisingly, and modest Oliver couldn't help but feel appreciated and desirable with all that attention. Not that he had ever on any level thought of cheating on Katie—but it was nice to know that as a Keeper in his upper 30s that women still found him attractive and kids still saw him as a player to follow. Most importantly though, Oliver absolutely loved chocolate. Dark, white, milk, fruit-flavoured, covering nuts or berries, sprinkled with coconut or cinnamon or icing sugar: it was his one vice in a lifetime of Quidditch performance based health conscious living and Oliver had never been able to kick the habit. So while Katie would viciously harp on and on about the destruction of the world due to consumerist tendencies, Oliver would patiently nod, secretly pondering his hidden stash back in his locker. But there had been too much to hide this year and his fucking team mates had riled Oliver up enough about his 'Legions of Groupies' to even consider leaving anything where they could get their grubby mitts on it, so after tossing the real rubbish Oliver had snuck home with some of the more high-end confections. . .and chocolate-covered cherries. . .
Wiping away the drool and pushing back the sleeves of his sweater, Oliver moved out to meet his wife.
"Smells brilliant love," he immediately picked up a banana from the counter, had it peeled in two shakes and started chewing. Hopefully any lingering teeth stains would be washed away.
"Not enough potassium in your diet?" Katie laughed, raising an eyebrow at his wolfish eating habits while stripping off her heavy winter robes. The weather lately had lost the sharp dryness in the wind, the threat of snowfall negligent, but cold rain and damp was a constant. Oliver nodded, big smile, nothing suspicious here.
"So can you believe it?"
". . .Believe what?" Oh crap, what did he miss? Katie sighed and flipped open the pizza box, the savoury scent of lean ground beef and green peppers tingling in his nose.
"The balloons Oliver, didn't you hear me?"
"Oh yeah, right. Balloons." He came closer and lifted up a slice. "Ridiculous."
"Utterly!" she exclaimed, long ponytail falling over her shoulder as her head shook back and forth. "They boxed in the second and third floors for most of the afternoon! Stupid newlyweds. Bloody wankers. There could have been an emergency!"
Oliver nodded, concentrating more on not showing what a combination of chocolate-covered cherries, banana, and ground beef in his mouth tasted like than what Katie was actually saying. Or that she was staring particularly hard at his chin. "Oliver?"
"Hmm?" Maybe I can get a piece of that seventy five percent cocoa blend when she's in the shower.
"What the hell is that on your chin?"
Oliver's big brown eyes blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment before his large hand clapped over his chin. The jig was up and he hadn't even lasted ten minutes.
"It's nothing lass, don't even think about—"
"Is that chocolate? On your face?"
So this was what cornered rabbits felt like.
"Well it was Yancy's stepdaughter's birthday and he brought in some leftover cake—"
Katie's beautiful blue gaze turned icy, her pizza dropping back into the box, but before the ball-shredding could begin—and end with mutual door slamming—Katie's expression fell, her shoulders dropped, and she suddenly looked very tired.
"Why Oliver?" her thin arms folded over her stomach, over her light orange uniform. "We do this every year and nothing sinks in. Why do you keep doing this?"
Oliver swallowed down an outburst that was a long time coming and as far as he could see most assuredly deserved, dropping the seasoned crust and deftly licking his fingers, before reaching for Katie's talented hands from where they seemed so distant cupping her elbows. He loved her, had always loved her even when they played together in Hogwarts, back when he was too much of an awkward bloke to talk to her about anything other than the game and homework. She was hurting and he somehow had to help.
Oliver kissed the plain wedding band circling her left ring finger.
"Why do you keep doing this Katie?"
There was a beat of silence before Katie disentangled their hands and stepped back with another sigh.
Oliver had packed up the pizza, shrinking the remains and placing it in the fridge, then, with resolve, he removed the Valentine evidence from underneath their bed, leaving the chocolate on the vanity but throwing out all the papers and shiny bags they were sent in.
They had to talk and Oliver could admit to himself that he should have faced this situation years ago, should have asked the whys and how's and found a way to rectify this gulf. But Oliver had been afraid to ask. In truth, he didn't want to hear about the fucking prick that broke her heart—they had lost track for a time after the War so she must have been involved with some very lucky bastard between then and when she started training at St. Mungo's—didn't want to hear about how much Katie had loved this nameless figure and how important Valentine's Day had been to her and what this wanker had done to screw up the best thing he had obviously ever had in the form of a relationship with Katie Bell.
Now Oliver wanted to hit something. How dare this bastard make his wife cry!
"I actually don't hate chocolate you know."
Oliver lifted his head from where he sat on their bed, his heavy sweater tossed away and his white shirt sticking lightly to the pads of his chest. Katie stood in the doorway wrapped in her red terrycloth, watching the sexless vanity stacked with red boxes with a sense of resignation. Her hair was slightly damp, tendrils curling around her chin while the mass of it fell straight down her back.
"I know."
She was silent for a moment and Oliver patted the bed beside him, happy when she came over and sat down.
"You know that I spent almost a year in hospital while I was in Hogwarts."
"You were cursed—" Katie nodded quickly, waving off his review. Oliver had wanted to see her desperately but hadn't been able to procure time off from PU much to his disgust. He had been young and stupid and afraid to lose his spot on the roster. She smiled at his pained expression and shook her head.
"I had a lot of time by myself, watched a lot of people come and go in St. Mungo's from my bed and then from the rec rooms." Oliver was glad when Katie was the one to reach over and clasp his hand. "It wasn't the flowers or the treats or the cards that made anyone really happy darling. It was the grandparents who sat with the little girl who broke both her legs trying to fly off her roof. It was the fiancé sleeping on a cot next to her lover's bed while he was recovering from splinching."
"And this is why you hate Valentine's Day?"
Katie elbowed him in the side, not letting go of his hand.
"You're such an idiot," she murmured with a sad little smile. "I'm trying to say that I love you Oliver Wood! That gifts and all that rubbish have never mattered to me. It's the time we spend together that matters, the fact that you come home with me instead of going out to the pub even though I know the boys think I keep you on a short leash."
Actually, the boys thought Katie kept Oliver chained to the bed and the Keeper was never going to help them think any different. He raised his hand to Katie's cheek, rough thumb stroking over her smooth skin, and was suddenly horrified to see her lower lip tremble. "I hate Valentine's Day because. . .because it just reminds me how close I could be to losing you."
Oliver jerked back, feeling as if he'd been slapped by the tears pooling in the corners of his wife's eyes. She was the strong one, the one who witnessed horrific accidents and comforted grieving relatives, the most beautiful, wonderful woman he had ever met—and she was worried about losing him?! . . .So did this mean he was the prick who was breaking her heart?
"You've never mentioned this before."
Katie shrugged and sniffed, robe loosening around her neck.
"I've never wanted to be one of those Quidditch wives, bitching about away games or—or jealous about Broom Bunnies. I thought I was better than that." Katie leaned her pale forehead on Oliver's shoulder for a second then looked up. "But I'm not. I thought. . .I thought focusing my insecurities against a day would make me feel better, but it hasn't. I'm a bossy Healer who's scared her husband would rather get in bed with some underwear throwing bimbo than watch horror films with me."
Oliver enveloped Katie in his strong Keeper arms, resting his chin on her lavender scented locks and hands along the small of her back.
"I'd rather do positively anything with you than hop into bed with anybody else."
"That's bad news for Lee," Katie mumbled. "He thinks you have a great arse."
There was a pregnant pause then both exhaled laughter, mere chuckles at first which turned into big belly laughs ending with Katie shrieking as Oliver rolled her over onto the mattress, nuzzling her cheek while his fingers dug into her ribs in an impromptu tickle. His lips trailed over her jaw lightly, the corners of her pink mouth, and as their touches slowed their faces separated and Oliver looked down into Katie's half-lidded eyes.
"We're going to be better Katie-girl," Oliver straddled her waist, positioned his weight on his knees in order to spread her glorious hair over their pillows. "You are all I've ever wanted and that is never going to change. And you're going to start coming to my games again even if you have to sit in the nosebleed section."
"When I'm not in surgery."
"When you're not in surgery."
Oliver dropped a kiss on Katie's nose and got up, pulling his shirt off in one swift movement while moving to fetch a box off the vanity. "And we're going to start some new traditions, lass." He smiled at Katie's appreciation of his bare torso, other parts getting a boost as her overworked hands went to undo the tie around her waist.
She was all scrubbed and silky smooth, soft and rosy underneath his busy hands; her own fingers were pressing deliciously into the meat of his shoulders and Oliver was thrilled to feel her need coming through with the pressure. His wife wanted him badly, her little pants and moans, the way she held on tight, wanting him closer skin to skin, breathing one another's last breath: Oliver felt like he was eight feet tall.
Oliver lifted a cherry cream from the plastic base and held it close to Katie's lips.
"Have a taste girl," he whispered. "It's so good."
With a smirk the Healer took a juicy bite, muffling a giggle as sugary sweet liquid dribbled down her chin. Oliver growled and made a long lick from the base of her throat to her luscious mouth, smiling into her kiss as Katie arched her hips into his ready and willing erection.
"It is good."
"Mmm," Oliver popped the rest passed his lips. "Not as good as your flavour though."
A red flush covered Katie's cheeks, eyes dilating at his words, their gazes locked as Oliver lowered his mouth to one pebbled nipple. He laved the distended supple flesh first, feeling the sensitive skin tighten under his tongue, his fingers attending to the neglected breast with a steady massage that brought a low groan from Katie's throat, then a sharp gasp as Oliver dropped to suck hard, tugging the round mass of her breast, using his teeth to graze the underside and feeling his wife shuddering beneath him. Oliver kissed her stomach, grinning to feel Katie's hands running through his mop of sun-dappled brown hair, giving a bit of a push. "You are a bossy Healer," he chuckled, reaching down to caress a ticklish calve muscle, startling Katie as he swiftly lifted her leg up over his shoulder. He groaned harshly as her heel instinctively dug into his back. "Eager?"
"Please Oli—Oh!"
Oliver's wife should never have o beg for what he enthusiastically wanted to give her.
His mouth worked Katie's slit, fingers sliding over secrets curls to move lower, slip deeper while his tongued flattened over her sweetest spot. Katie's hips swivelled, hands more insistent on keeping him where she wanted. "More—Oliver! Oh! Oh Merlin."
He could have stilled her hips, pressed his free arm over her abdomen to hold Katie in place and maybe save himself a bruise or two but bloody hell his wife was abandoned under his mouth, and wasn't that the sexiest feeling in the world.
Oliver deftly captured another chocolate, his busy hand stilling on Katie's inner thigh as she shattered on his tongue, her release coating his lips. Oliver slowly rose up, putting her leg back down, crushing the syrupy sweet between his thumb and forefinger before lazily smearing the dripping paste over her breast. He licked his lips, savouring Katie's pleasure, enjoying the heavy sound of her panting and the glint in her baby blues as he brought his sticky chocolate fingers to her mouth.
"Suck me."
Katie took his thumb into her mouth first, holding his hand at the right angle while Oliver made better use of his time at her chest. She bit his palm with a cheeky smile and Oliver grunted, positioning himself and then thrusting smoothly into her slickness, the pleasure he had given her. Oliver took Katie's breast back into his mouth, pressing her nipple up onto his hard palette as Katie responded by sucking two fingers between her lips. Oliver's hips moved faster, the force spreading Katie's thighs further until she jerked and hooked one leg clumsily over his arse. She dropped Oliver's hand on a hiss as his hips surged forward by her jostling, a slick slap of flesh and all their senses buzzing.
Oliver shushed his wife and licked the last bit of chocolate off her reddened chest much to Katie's delight.
"You don't need to go any where yet Katie-lass." He chuckled. "Those movies don't need to go back for another day at least." They shared a laugh and Oliver was gladdened by the peaceful silence that followed. They still had work to do but the Keeper could sense a new ease between them. A burden had somewhat lifted.