Happy Springsmut, best_of_five!

Author: nqdonne
Recipient: best_of_five
Title: WAGs to Riches
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Percy/Oliver, mentions of Charlie/OC
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: How the boy Percy had idly daydreamed about in school had ended up one of the country's top rugby players was something Percy left up to bad karma.
Warning(s): non-magical AU, excessive British pop culture references + one slightly maniacal cat
Word Count: @ 9,000
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this best_of_five! I tried to incorporate things you'd like, and construct a feasible non-magical AU – hopefully I managed it! I couldn't find a way to make Oliver a tennis player, alas, but I hope this hits some of your buttons, nonetheless :D Thanks to T for the squee and poking and to E for the emergency (and encouraging!) beta.


Percy had always imagined he'd end up in banking, like his brother Bill, or at least in politics, like his father. It was a consolation, at least, that his job bore some relevance to his university degree. He'd done his degree in Economics, not one of the... impractical subjects such as English (what on earth did you do with an English degree?), so of course he was glad to put that knowledge to use. But he never imagined he'd end up working for a magazine, let alone one that thought touting the accomplishments of celebrities was the thing to do.

It'd not been like this when he started work there, of course. Two years previous Sterling was a no-nonsense, no-frills financial magazine that ran the occasional soft feature. Now it seemed even his sensible, informative friend was courting the attention of the general public, it's title turned ironic as it debased itself running splashy pieces on Charlotte Church's latest career move (and how it would affect her net-worth, of course) and which member of Girls Aloud brought in the most money. It disgusted Percy, and he wasn't even on the editorial side of things. No, he worked for the advertising department, making sure the magazine continued to manage the high-end adverts that kept them in business, off-setting the paltry sums brought in from news stand sales and subscriptions.

As the magazine started the slow slide into tabloid-chic (it was the two page spread for Paris Hilton's hideous perfume that had incurred his absolute disgust, as had the £500 lunch his boss had taken to secure the account), Percy tried his best to ignore it. He busied himself with his figures and spreadsheets, his eyes sliding over the celebrity names and low-brow franchises whose adverts they now ran (Tescos! They were advertising Tescos!). He passed on the event parties the magazine sponsored, totally uninterested in tossing back watered-down martinis with his co-workers, making small talk with agents, celebrities and the general public who ate up this tripe.

But then, then, came the party he could not pass on, not because the celebrity draw was too big, or because he finally craved the free booze, but because he was made to go. His boss decided to make it mandatory that all staff attend the event, considering it was their Big Piece for the April issue. So this was how Percy found himself wading through the crowd at Covent Garden tube station, trying to get the hell out of the station so he wouldn't be late. Percy hated coming into central London in the evening, when all the tourists descended, yammering at the top of their voices about Mary Poppins and Daniel Radcliffe's willy (Richest teenager in the UK, October issue, page 12) and never managing to figure out how to use their bloody Oyster cards on the touch pad at the exit. It always took an age, and it was at moments like these that Percy despised living in London.

Making his way out and on his way to the chic Soho restaurant where the “Top Forty Celebrities Worth Their Weight in Sterling!” party (oh God, the pun!) was being held, Percy arrived, hid his disdainful expression long enough to give a wave to his boss and then pressed himself against the back wall where he could count down the minutes until he could flee this wretched place.

By 8 p.m. most of the celebrity guests had arrived – there was Charlotte Church and Daniel Radcliffe (the former of whom was trying to chat up the latter, who kept glancing around anxiously looking for Church's fit – and rather protective – rugby player boyfriend), some pop musician Percy had heard his sister listen to when they were younger, David Beckham with wife Victoria along (Percy almost looked around for Rebecca Loos, but then scolded himself for even knowing who that was) and then, no! It was him. He should have known he'd be here, but a part of Percy's mind had pushed the thought aside and reasoned that he was probably too busy... But, no, Oliver Wood looked free as a bird, chatting up some bird, his smile wide and a drink in his hand. How the boy Percy had idly daydreamed about in school had ended up one of the country's top rugby players was something Percy left up to bad karma. Because clearly someone wanted to mess with him, get him back for some awful deed he must have done in childhood.

Shifting awkwardly on his feet as his throat constricted, Percy inched further back against the wall, hoping he wouldn't be spotted. After twenty minutes of watching Oliver flirt with every woman in the room (except for Charlotte, because Gavin would likely knee him in the balls the next time they were on the field together), Percy couldn't take the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach any longer, so he moved over to the bar and asked for the strongest drink they would make him. A moment later he was handed something in a short, stout glass that was a murky orange; he eyed it suspiciously and the bartender gave him an annoyed look and said, “It's a screwdriver.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Percy said, moving back to his spot on the wall to drink it. He took a long pull of the drink and nearly choked. It was like pouring a bucket of rubbing alcohol down his throat.

“Ugh! That is vile,” he said to no one but himself. A warm, big laugh answered him and when he looked to his side, there was Oliver.

“Must mean the bartender likes you,” he said.

Percy blinked owlishly at him, his heart in a panic. “What?”

“He only loads up the ones for the blokes he fancies.”

“What? I, I'm, but, not – how do you know?”

“My drink's almost full-up gin.” He flashed Percy a mischievous grin.

“That, you, I – But he's a bloke! And you're a bloke!” Right, Percy, play the “not gay!” game, he thought to himself.

“So?” Oliver studied him.

“That's just... very unprofessional.”

“A bartender serving drinks?”

“That's not what I – oh, bollocks!” Percy cursed, then cursing inwardly for cursing outwardly. It was very unbecoming. Oliver's grin at his slip up, though, that was, Percy thought, very becoming, indeed.

“Don't get so flustered, Perce. I was only teasing. How have you been? It's been ages. What has it been? Four years?”

“Five.”

“Five, then.” He paused. “You work for Sterling?”

“Yeah, Ad Sales Coordinator.”

“Nice. I've been playing rugby.”

Percy waited for a joke or further elaboration, but he got none.

“Um, yeah, I know.”

Oliver flushed. “Yeah, course you did. I just thought... you were never very into sport, in school.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Right, well, I joined up with the local league right after school, rightly pissed off my parents, since I got top A levels.”

Percy raised an eyebrow in surprise. Oliver barrelled on.

“Got into Edinburgh, I did, but the league offered good pay and a shot at the majors. And can you imagine? Playing for England, I am.”

“That's great, Oliver,” Percy intoned sincerely.

“You'll have to come see me play sometime.”

“Yeah, it's noth - what?”

“Come to a game. I can get you the best seats in the house, right up front where all the WAGs sit, oh, players' wives and girlfriends,” he clarified at Percy's puzzled look, then he blushed furiously. “Not that I'm saying you're like my boyfriend.”

Percy's mouth simply hung agape.

“Listen, I've got to go,” Oliver breezed on, “my agent's signalling. I have to mingle, he says. I'll ring you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Percy nodded dumbly. As Oliver bounced away, Percy had to wonder how many mostly-gin gin and tonics he'd had.

***

A week later, Percy received a small packet by courier addressed to Percy Weasley, Ad Sales Department, Sterling Magazine, but with no recognisable return address. At first he paid it no mind and placed it with the rest of the incoming mail, which he opened at precisely 10 a.m., 2 p.m. and 4 p.m., daily. When 2 p.m. rolled round, Percy retrieved his small stack of mail, courier envelope on top, and started sorting through everything, small letters first, larger packages last. He'd presumed the packet was a promotional item or a paid invoice order, but when he ripped open the top strip, a fancy embossed ticket and a small note fell out. Percy picked up the ticket and examined it. It was a rugby ticket. To tonight's match. From Oliver. The note accompanying it read:

Percy,

If you're free tonight, I'd love it if you could come to the match. Sorry for the short notice, but I had to haggle one away from the WAGs! Also, why is your phone number unlisted?

Oliver

Percy didn't know what to think. He hadn't really thought Oliver was being serious; it was just the idle chitchat one engages in at parties when significantly lubricated with alcohol. But Oliver had said he should come to a match sometime... and here was a ticket. His first reaction was a flutter deep in his belly, his second was to push the ticket and note to the side of his desk and get himself to grips. There would be no allowing himself to get silly over a simple, friendly gesture. Oliver wasn't gay; he played sport, for God's sake. Well, he wasn't going to go, surely not. Percy had no interest in sport, and if he went to the game, Oliver might start to think he was... interested. And that would just be embarrassing, him going to his game and Oliver knowing it was just so he could stare at his fit arse in his shorts.

Oh, God, that arse...

Decision made, Percy got through the rest of his invoices and expense report work and left at six, per usual. He slipped the ticket and note into his briefcase, just so no busybodies took notice of it and asked questions. He got on the tube, but instead of transferring to the District line and going to Earl's Court, he went into Central London to meet Charlie at his brother's favourite pub. He'd called him just after he opened Oliver's ticket - if he was going to pretend to not be free, he might as well actually do something.

When he got there, Charlie was at the bar nursing a pint and watching the BBC 6 o'clock news. A feature on the evening's forthcoming rugby match came on and Percy groaned. Weaving his way through the chatty after-work crowd, Percy joined his brother and ordered himself a glass of water before they moved to the slightly less noisy back corner and sat at a table.

"So, little brother," Charlie began, dropping himself down heavily into his chair, "what prompted your sudden desire to schmooze?" He took a healthy swallow of lager and grinned.

"Don't call me 'little brother,' Charlie," Percy chided, taking his own dainty sip of water.

"But you are my little brother, little brother," he teased.

"I just don't like it, Charles."

"Oy! None of that Charles stuff. And I won't call you little brother, deal?"

"Of course," Percy announced, triumphantly. They hadn't lived together fourteen years without Percy figuring out how to manipulate his brother, and vice versa.

"So why the sudden urge to see me?"

"Just wanted to catch up, is all. It's been..." Percy pulled out his Blackberry and scanned his calendar. "Two months, since Mum's birthday celebration," he announced after a moment.

Rolling his eyes and chuckling, Charlie thumped him lightly on the shoulder. "You're too precise littl... Percy. You need to lighten up a bit." He eyed Percy's water critically. "You should drink more."

Percy straightened in his chair and stuck his nose out proudly. "I'll have you know I had a drink just last week. A screwdriver. With vodka."

"I know what a screwdriver is, Perce. And for what occasion did you indulge in said alcoholic beverage?"

"Issue launch party for Sterling. It was the most vile little venue, with stupid celebrities everywhere, but I was made to go."

"Only you would pooh-pooh a celebrity party with free booze." Charlie shook his head and finished off his drink. "Speaking of... would you like another water? Or something alcoholic? I need a refill." Percy lifted a single eyebrow, so as to say 'what do you think?' and Charlie jumped up, smiling to himself, and headed back to the bar for another beer.

When he returned a minute later, he slammed his fresh glass down on the rickety table, flopped down and launched right into a new line of questioning. "So, what is it, Perce? You shagging someone, thinking of shagging someone, depressed because you're not shagging anyone? You only call when you want to talk about blokes."

"Charlie! I - this isn't - it's..." Percy frowned. "Damn it."

"I know you too well, Percy."

"Well, you are my only gay brother," Percy mused, and Charlie grinned at their shared joke. "And you know I can't talk to anyone at the office."

"And you don't have any friends," Charlie offered, just missing the joking tone Percy was sure he'd been going for.

"Hey!" Percy tried not to feel hurt, since it was the truth, but it stung, nonetheless.

"Sorry, that's a few beers talking," Charlie replied, sheepishly. "So, which is it? Have you been with anyone since Edwin?"

"No," Percy bristled. "You know I can't jump into bed with just anyone, Charlie. I'm afraid I've been very busy, and there simply hasn't been anyone who's been suitable."

"Yes, Percy, but you're twenty-five and you've only had three sexual relationships in the last five years. Methinks your standards are a bit high..."

"They are not too high!" insisted Percy. "My standards are perfectly fine. It's everyone else who is simply insufficient in meeting them."

Charlie dropped his head dramatically onto the table. "I don't know what to do with you."

"So how's the clinic?" Percy hastily changed the subject – enough talking about his love life.

"It's good. Though we're just starting to get into the reject pets from Christmas. When will people learn that getting their kids, spouse, lover - whatever, a puppy isn't going to look so hot in April?"

Charlie had that wounded Mother Theresa look in his eye, and Percy decided to cut him off at the pass. "I am not adopting any more animals, Charlie. So don't even think about it."

"Oh, don't worry, Perce," Charlie laughed, "I know I was lucky to get you to take one. No, Richard's taking most of the overflow, though in some cases I've been able to convince the families to keep them. You'd be amazed what a little professional advice and a small guilt trip will do."

"How is Richard?" Percy asked.

Charlie – who ran a small veterinary clinic – had been dating Richard – who ran a local animal shelter – for six months. It was so meet-cute and hokey, Percy wanted to vomit on occasion. Usually just when his mother was tittering on about it, guilt tripping Percy about his own single state, though.

"Richard's good. He still has that friend, you know..."

Somehow things always cycled back to Percy's dating habits. He liked Charlie better when he was single, when all he talked about was (missing) fucking and not relationships (and how Percy would be happier if he were in one).

"No," Percy ground out insistently. "No blind dates. The last one was bad enough."

"How was I supposed to know he was looking for a new sub!? And you do kind of look like the perfect submissive..."

"I am traumatised, Charlie. He used a whip."

"Sounds good to me." Charlie gave a cheeky grin.

"Fine, then you and Richard can call him up for a threesome. But no thanks."

Charlie didn't say anything in return, though he looked like he was filing away the threesome idea for later. Then he got that look, the one he got when he was about to get particularly annoying and crude during their relationship talks. Percy needed to say something, anything to change the subject.

He wouldn't mention Oliver. He wouldn't mention Oliver.

"So guess who I ran into last week?" Damn it.

"Who?" Charlie looked curious.

Percy took a nervous swig of his water. "Oliver Wood."

Charlie's eyes widened playfully. "THE Oliver Wood? The one who used to get you all hot and bothered at school? Top English rugby player Oliver Wood? Oliver 'I wonder if his last name is at all appropriate' Wood?"

"Shuddup," Percy muttered petulantly.

Charlie threw him his favourite 'lighten up' look and dropped the charade. "Seriously, Perce – where did you see Oliver? How is he?" It seemed he couldn't resist one more joke, and set Percy with a faux-leer. "Is he single?"

"He was at the party, he's fine and how the hell would I know if he's single?!"

"You should have asked! And taken him into the bathroom for a blow job. It's what I would have done. Always wanted to, at school..."

"You – WHAT?!"

Charlie's eyes glinted naughtily. "He was a hot little thing, even at fourteen. But," he gave a sober sigh, "I was his Captain and nearly eighteen and it would have been Very Inappropriate." Percy nodded his emphatic assent and Charlie continued. "But he fueled more than one locker room-based wank fantasy, I must say. I'm sure it was the same for you..."

"It most certainly was not!" Percy huffed indignantly, shifting embarrassingly as his prick hardened ever so slightly at Charlie's words and his mind flashed on a locker room scenario or two.

"Rubbish, Percy. It's all right, I know you won't admit it. But I refuse to believe you didn't have at least one rugby-related wank involving Oliver. He would hardly take you over a stack of books in the library, although I'm sure you had that one, too."

Damn it if Charlie weren't completely right, but Percy refused to rise to his bait, or the knowing leer he was sending him presently.

"Hey, I'll have you know Oliver is perfectly scholarly!" Percy managed, instead. "He got top scores on his A-levels, and got into Edinburgh!"

Charlie took a cocky swig of his beer. "So that's why you called me. You're hot for Oliver Wood, again. And you fancy him something awful if you're defending his academic achievements in casual conversation." He looked like the cat that got the cream and Percy cursed himself for being so easy to read. "So, you two going on a date?"

Percy spluttered at Charlie's accusation and eventually managed a series of denials. "No! He invited me to his game, but I couldn't go, and Oliver's not even gay, Charlie."

Charlie snorted into his drink. "He's definitely gay, Percy. And what do you mean he invited you to his game and you couldn't go? When?"

"Tonight," Percy admitted sheepishly.

"Tonight?! You called me here as an excuse not to go to a rugby match? God, you're stupid, Percy."

"I am NOT stupid! I don't like sport, and there's nothing wrong with wanting to see my brother -"

"As an excuse not to go see a hot, GAY former schoolmate get all dirty and sweaty," Charlie finished for him. "I'm on to you, Percy. You really are stupid – if Oliver invited you to his game, he clearly likes you."

"Yeah, as a friend, an old schoolmate," Percy defended.

"No, as a red-blooded gay man, Percy," Charlie insisted, initiating a fierce starting match, which he eventually won. Percy looked away and his eyes settled on the telly above the bar. After a moment:

"What makes you so sure he's gay?"

"Three years of changing and showering in the same locker room, perhaps? He's definitely on our team, so to speak. And he definitely has a thing for ginger blokes. Or maybe just our family," Charlie laughed, but stopped abruptly at the incensed look Percy now gave him. "Oh, lighten up, Percy – he just used to check me out. And I'm sure he enjoyed having Fred and George on the team after I left. And you for a dorm mate. Perhaps we've conditioned him..."

Percy pursed his lips together and set Charlie with a stern look. "Don't be ridiculous, Charlie. I'll believe it when I see it."

"At this rate, that might be soon. If - if - he wants to see you again, you'd better accept his invitation, little brother. Or I'll send the lonely dom over to yours and he can give you a thorough spanking."

"That's not funny."

"It really is."

They continued to chat idly about Charlie's clinic and Richard and things going on at the magazine before Percy excused himself and went home. The rugby match hadn't even begun.

***

The next morning when Percy arrived at work, another couriered package was waiting for him. This time he opened it straight-away, recognising Oliver's handwriting on the front. He read the note first.

Percy,

I was disappointed not to see you last night. I'm sorry again for the short notice, clearly you must have had other plans. I really would love for you to come to a game so we can spend a bit of time catching up.

Here's another ticket to Friday's game and a VIP pass so you can come down to the locker room, after - it's the easiest place to meet. This ticket's worth a lot of money, Percy, so don't put it to waste! (If that won't get you, nothing will, I reckon.)

See you Friday!

Yours,
Oliver

Yours. Oh dear. Percy's heart pounded in his throat and he pulled the second ticket and pass out of the envelope, inspecting them.

I was disappointed not to see you last night. Oh dear, dear, dear.

Though he could hardly allow himself to believe it, the note smacked of playful affection, perhaps even flirting. If Charlie was right and Oliver was gay (okay, maybe that made some sense, but Percy had seen him flirting with women at that party! And men, if he counted himself... but Oliver was just being nice! Surely...), then maybe this was more than just an invitation to a game.

Maybe he should go.

But the whole thing unsettled him. His only major relationships, outside of his attempt at heterosexuality with Penny, had been easy, safe – average to below-average men with the same range of interests as Percy and the same desire to keep their relationship low-profile. Edwin, his most recent and longest lasting relationship, had been an investment banker friend of Bill's, who enjoyed diligent work just as Percy did and, admittedly, hadn't been much to look at. In fact, neither had any of his boyfriends, which Percy found more than perfect considering his own shortcomings in that department. He was tall and wiry, no muscles to tone or define his stature, and Charlie was always harping on at him about how he needed to go to the gym like a normal gay man. His hair was hopeless, though he tamed the natural, familial curls with hair product (his one and only so-called metrosexual indulgence), plus there were the glasses – who would be interested in a guy in glasses? Percy was, frankly, more than aware and accepting of what he had to offer and, needless to say, Oliver and he were nowhere near playing in the same league, figuratively speaking.

Percy had met enough celebrities over the last year to know that, even if they were gay, they weren't interested in some prickly bloke from the advertising department. They went for editorial, if anything, or the publishers, if they were smart. And even then, they weren't relationships, they were healthy shags, meant to further the careers of both. It would be silly for Percy to get his hopes up that a fit, famous eligible bloke like Oliver would take any real interest in him, beyond maybe a quick shag, at best. And Percy wanted a relationship, not a series of good shags (much to Charlie's continual disappointment).

So he went to the match with little hope beyond having a congenial chat with Oliver after, and maybe putting down his advances, should that truly be his motive. Percy would simply explain that he was only interested in serious relationships right now, and he was flattered, but not interested. Right.

***

All his plans quickly went to pot as he made his way below the huge stadium to the locker room, his VIP pass clutched firmly in hand. As he entered the locker room, passing the dressed-to-the-slutty-nines WAGs as they tittered over their husbands and boyfriends, he was stopped dead by the sight of Oliver, shirtless but still muddy and sweaty from the game, grinning widely at whomever he was talking to, as he ran a towel roughly along the nape of his neck. Every rugby-related fantasy he'd ever had came flooding into his mind, and Percy started to think that, maybe, just a series of frantic fucks wouldn't be so bad, after all. He'd always wanted to let loose and experiment, but none of his boyfriends had had similar proclivities. He could start by letting Oliver take him over a bench, in the shower...

He was snapped out of his lewd thoughts by Oliver, who barked a happy, "Percy!" and made his way toward him. "I'm so glad you came!"

"I, um," Percy stuttered nervously, "um, thanks for inviting me?"

"You're welcome, mate," he grinned widely. "I know you're not much into sport, but I thought maybe..."

"No, it was great! Very... educational. I needed a refresher from school, anyway."

"Ah, yes, you used to come to our House matches. With a book, usually, if I recall."

Percy felt his face heat. "I liked reading."

"No worries, Perce," Oliver reassured him, "I'm only teasing you." They stood awkwardly a moment, Percy blushing and Oliver grinning.

"Listen," Oliver broke the silence, looking himself up and down, as a bit of mud ceremoniously dripped from the end of his shorts onto the floor. "Let me just shower quickly, then I thought we could maybe grab a bite to eat somewhere? I'm starving."

"Um... okay?" Percy answered uncertainly, proud, at least, that his voiced hadn't squeaked as his heart jumped into his throat. If Charlie was right about Oliver, this was practically a date, which suddenly had Percy feeling very, very nervous.

Twenty minutes later, Oliver was showered and dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a slightly wrinkled blue polo shirt, tight enough that Percy could see the musculature of his chest and shoulders, and he had to stop himself from starring as they made their way from the stadium.

Dinner was at a local Thai place Oliver said he liked, where Percy ordered the most mild thing on the menu and Oliver the spiciest, about which they laughed, though Percy secretly took it as an obvious indication that they were Totally Wrong For Each Other Anyway. Percy alternated between his stomach fluttering every time Oliver smiled at him and telling himself to stop being foolish, that he stood no chance with Oliver, and it was ridiculous to get his hopes up.

He had to redouble his efforts to tell the logical part of his brain to stamp out the fantastical side that kept imagining all manner of dirty things they could do together as Oliver insisted on showing him home. They came to the door of Percy's small flat, and Oliver smiled shyly.

"Um, mind if I pop in for a cuppa before I head home?"

Percy flushed, though he hoped Oliver couldn't see in the dim light of the street. "How rude of me! Of course, I should have asked you in for one, anyway." More like Percy had forgotten all his manners in lieu of his prick, which had been insistently popping up the entire taxi ride home.

They made their way up the dark hall steps up to Percy's flat and he nervously manoeuvred the keys into the keyhole and let them in. Before they could get two steps inside, a warm, furry creature was rubbing against their legs, mewling.

"Oh, shoot, he must be hungry," Percy cursed, leaving Oliver to close the door behind them as he rushed into the kitchen to open a tin of cat food. Once he'd set out Archimedes' food, he put the kettle on and joined Oliver in the living room.

"You have a cat?" Oliver chuckled. "Somehow I didn't see you as being a cat person. Even if he is a ginger one."

Percy couldn't suppress a small smile as he sat himself on the couch next to Oliver. "It was all Charlie's doing," he explained. "Archimedes was abandoned at the clinic and no one else would take him. Charlie threatened to out me to mum and dad pre-maturely unless I adopted him. Cheeky sod."

"That sounds like Charlie. And you named your cat Archimedes?"

"Well, what was I supposed to name him?" Percy bristled.

"I don't know, a normal cat name? Like Boots or... Chuck?"

"Chuck?" He had to be kidding.

"Sure, why not," Oliver shrugged, looking perfectly sincere.

"I could not name my cat something as plebeian as Chuck. Really, Oliver!"

Oliver scooted over closer to him and playfully bumped his shoulder against Percy's. Percy shivered.

"It's not a big deal, Percy. I was just being silly. Naming your cat after some poncy old guy is fine by me." He grinned.

"Do you even know who Archimedes is?"

"Nah, I was more a humanities bloke in school. But I'm sure you're about to tell me." Oliver peered at him, playfully. Percy cleared his throat, shifting away from him slightly, but Oliver simply shifted along with him, keeping their thighs touching.

"He was the first mathematical physicist, famous for discovering the principle of buoyancy," Percy began, starting to stumble over the words as Oliver settled a hand on his knee. "Um, his work was... essential in creating -"

He was cut off as Oliver leaned over, brought his other hand to the side of Percy's face and kissed him softly on the lips. As he pulled away, Oliver murmured, licking his lips, "I love it when you talk academic, Percy. Always have."

Percy tensed, unsure what to do or say, and at hearing the loud 'click' of the kettle, jumped up and rushed off into the adjoining kitchen. "I have to get the tea!" he called out as he went, ignoring Oliver as he called after him.

Dear, dear, dear, dear. He kissed him. Oliver had kissed him, he was definitely gay and Percy had liked it. But surely this was a one-off and he just couldn't let himself get swept away and dear God, he wanted to do it again.

He poured the boiling water into two teacups and watched the tea bags float to the top. Before he could push them down with a spoon to get them properly steeping, Oliver appeared at the door, approaching cautiously.

"Percy, if I made a mistake, I'm sorry..."

"No, it's not you, it's me. I've been... silly."

"Silly?" Oliver stepped toward him, his arm out-stretched to comfort him, but before his fingers could graze his shoulder, Percy jerked away.

"I shouldn't have come tonight, or done any of this, really. It was a bad idea." He began to compulsively poke at the tea bags with a spoon and then strained them against the side of the mugs and threw them into the sink.

"Percy, I don't understand," Oliver moved behind him and Percy tensed. "If you're not gay, I'll understand, but I thought -"

"No, I am, but..." he trailed off, dodging Oliver again as he moved over to the refrigerator to get the milk.

"But what, Percy?"

As Percy turned back around, milk in hand, he saw Oliver worrying his lip with his teeth, his entire posture stiff with anxiety. Percy's stomach fluttered as it was wont to do lately, but this time it was with a hint of anguish.

"I've been foolish, is all." Returning to the counter, Percy uncapped the milk and added it to each of the mugs. "You're famous and fit and I'm ordinary and gawky and I was stupid to go tonight and let you think that I was interested in something when, really, I'm not. Not in that."

"Percy, I'm so confused," Oliver pleaded as Percy began to compulsively stir the tea. "I don't know what you're on about. You are not ordinary or gawky and what are you not interested in? Please, explain it to me." He moved closer and finally managed to place a hand on Percy's forearm. Percy dropped his head down, relaxing his grip on the teaspoon and ceasing his obsessive stirring.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," Percy began slowly, keeping his eyes glued to the slowly swirling tea. "I'm just not interested in a quick shag. I – I'm sorry for leading you on." He tried to pull away, but Oliver held fast to Percy's forearm.

"Percy," he said. Percy refused to look up. "Percy." Again, firmer this time. "Look at me, Percy." Slowly, Percy turned his head to look. Oliver's eyes were ablaze and his mouth was set in a firm line. "You think I was just trying to shag you and run? That I'm like that?" Percy balked under Oliver's angry stare and tried one more time to shake free of his grip.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Oliver huffed, surging forward before Percy could escape and mashing their lips together in a messy but earnest kiss.

Percy made a surprised sound in the back of his throat and pulled backwards, his back hitting the edge of the counter. Oliver loosened his grip on Percy's forearm and gently moved the hand upward to rest on his upper arm, whilst placing his other hand on Percy's waist. Stepping further forward into Percy's body space as their lips moved against one another, Oliver slipped his tongue into Percy's lax mouth and he couldn't help but moan. A moment later, Oliver pulled away from Percy's mouth, then leaned forward until their foreheads and noses touched.

"I like you, you idiot," he said. "Not just for a one night stand. For much more than that."

"But you're famous! And fit!" Percy protested.

"Oi, Percy stop that," Oliver smacked him playfully on the arm. "You've known me since we were eleven! And I've had a crush on you since I was fourteen. So none of that. I think you're gorgeous," he said earnestly. It shocked Percy that he actually believed him. Oliver was always so damn sincere about everything, after all.

"You had a crush on me?" Percy asked, eyes wide.

"Hmm," Oliver hummed, ducking his head to nuzzle at Percy's neck. "But you were dating Penelope, so I figured you weren't queer like me. But then I saw you at the party, and I asked around..." He lifted his head back up to look at Percy. "Do you know how fucking happy it made me to know that you might be the same as me? Fuck, Percy, I've been on pins and needles for two weeks, trying to work up the courage to invite you, then hoping you'd come to a game."

Percy was struck speechless. Why had he pretended to be heterosexual? Why? He could have lost his virginity at least four years earlier. Suddenly Oliver laughed.

"You look confused."

"Oh, I'm just kicking myself." Percy had to laugh. "I was mad about you in school. Why do you think I went to all those games?"

"I thought for your brothers."

"I wasn't wanking at the thought of my brothers in those uniforms, trust me."

"Fuck," Oliver swore, his eyes glazing over. "You used to wank over me?"

Percy simply blushed in response.

"That's ridiculously hot, Percy," Oliver murmured, moving his mouth to Percy's ear and whispering huskily. "My favourite fantasy used to be your catching me wanking somewhere in the school, maybe the library, doing your Prefect thing, scolding me. Then helping me finish. What was yours?" He ran his tongue along the shell of his ear then sucked on his earlobe.

Percy threw his head back and groaned, his prick growing hard in his trousers. He shifted against Oliver, enjoying the friction of Oliver's firm thigh against his crotch.

"Locker room," Percy groaned. "In the showers, after a game. You getting on your knees and..." Percy couldn't finish, it was too embarrassing, even if Oliver had now moved on from his ear and was making good work of his neck and collarbone while his right hand massaged at Percy's dick through his trousers.

"Mmmnn, I can fill in the blanks. So, me on my knees..." He pulled away from Percy's neck and got down on his knees in front of Percy. "No shower, but we can make do." Oliver grinned, undoing the top button on Percy's trousers before moving the zip down and pulling the trousers down his hips.

Oliver mouthed hotly against the firm flesh of Percy's cock through his underwear, the damp cotton creating a sweet friction as Oliver's mouth moved over him. It had been ages since he'd been sucked off by someone, a year at least, if not more, considering Edwin had never been particularly keen on the idea. He only gave blow jobs on special occasions, which considering they were only together about eight months, amounted to maybe six blow jobs in the last two years, Percy calculated.
God, he needed this.

It seemed Oliver needed it just as much, and he moaned as he worked his mouth and tongue over Percy, underwear since pushed aside, humming deep in his throat, sending pleasant vibrations down Percy's cock in the process. The counter top dug into his back and his knuckles surely had to be white as he gripped against the faux-marble surface, leveraging himself against Oliver's hot mouth as he tongued over his slit, then circled the tip of cock before moving back down, one hand fondling his balls all the while.

"Oliver, please," Percy pleaded, "I can't... I can't last. You should..."

Oliver drew off him with a slick popping sound. "Should what?"

Percy resisted the urge to snap at him for stopping, considering he was doing exactly as Percy asked. "I don't want to come so soon. Just... I thought we might..." Percy bit his lip and inclined his head in the direction of the bedroom.

Oliver grinned wickedly. "Brilliant. But, Percy – you're twenty-five. I think you can recover."

With that, he grabbed Percy firmly by the hip and returned his straining cock to the wet heat of his mouth, and went about sucking him off at an almost violent pace.

"Oh Jesus fuck, Oliver," Percy couldn't help cursing, inwardly scolding himself (and Charlie for giving him a potty mouth in the first place), but ultimately deciding that if he couldn't let go a bit in the bedroom (or kitchen, even), then what was the point?

A minute later he was warning Oliver to pull off again, as he was going to come, but Oliver stayed put, sending a fresh wave of heat down Percy's spine, which was shortly followed by the most intense orgasm he'd had in years. And they hadn't even got to full-on sex yet. Damn.

Oliver popped back up onto his feet with a frightening amount of enthusiasm, smile wide. "That." He leaned forward and brushed his hand over Percy's jaw affectionately. "Was brilliant."

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" Percy quirked a brow as he tried to, in as dignified a manner as possible, pull up his pants and tuck himself back in.

"Mmmnn, but it was," Oliver hummed, nuzzling at Percy's ear. He could feel Oliver's hard-on pressing into his hip. "I love the expression on a man's face when I suck him off. I find it rather gratifying," he whispered. Percy shuddered.

"Should we... should we, um, head into the bedroom?" Percy inquired, moving his hand down to rub at Oliver's pert arse, hoping it was all right. He'd never been particularly good at seduction.

"Oh, absolutely," Oliver returned, starting to shuffle backwards and lead Percy from the kitchen. At the door, he turned round, keeping hold of Percy's hand behind him, and looked for the most likely location of the bedroom.

"Um, to the left," Percy prompted, thinking as they left the room that their tea was going to horrible waste. And that he really shouldn't have left those tea bags sitting in the sink – they'd stain.

When they finally reached Percy's bedroom, Oliver stopped short at the door and dropped Percy's hand.

"I think this is the cleanest room I have ever seen, Percy," he said with an amused chuckle as he surveyed the small space. "It's like... I don't know. But it makes me really want to dirty it up a bit. Starting with this." Oliver tugged violently at the perfectly-tucked corners of Percy's bedsheets, sending two pillows and his duvet flying onto the floor. Percy made a high pitched noise of distress at the sudden disorder, but quickly forgot about his angst as Oliver's clothes joined the bed things on the floor and he lay down, hard cock jutting against the sheets.

"You can top me if you want," Oliver said matter-of-factly and Percy felt the blood drain from his face and rush southwards.

"What? No, I couldn't, I -"

"Why not?"

"Well, generally I... and I've just..." Percy was at a loss. How did he explain that he'd only been with men who topped and that, while he'd been secretly hoping to find someone who wouldn't mind a little role reversal, he wasn't sure he was ready to be in that position with Oliver. He was afraid he'd come just from looking at Oliver's arse.

"Well, next time then." Oliver couldn't contain a grin when Percy started spluttering at the indication. "Frankly I've been dying for a nice, hard shag, but it's awfully difficult to find anyone who's willing to do it. I seem to attract men who'd rather I play the aggressive sportsman."

"Well..." Percy struggled for the right words. "I am... perfectly amenable to a reciprocal relationship."

Oliver let out a deep, hearty laugh, the kind that had always got Percy's heart beating just that much faster at school. "In other words, I'll fuck you now, you fuck me later?"

Percy groaned. "Yes, please."

"Okay. Where's your lube?"

"Bedside table, bottom left hand side."

"Condoms?"

"Bottom left, behind the lube."

Oliver opened the aforementioned cabinet, pulled out the bottle of Astroglide and leaned forward to dig a bit for the condoms, giving Percy a fabulous show of his arse in the process. A moment later he emerged with a rather sizeable box and a quizzical expression on his face.

"Extra large condoms? I hadn't pegged you for a size queen, Percy."

Percy blushed. "It was Charlie," he grumbled. "Gag gift for Christmas. They're, err, the only ones I have that haven't expired."

"It's okay," Oliver grinned saucily, "these should fit me just fine."

Percy was just glad Oliver hadn't found the ball-gag Charlie had found it so amusing to gift him, as well.

"Well, Perce, are you going to join me, or just stand there with your clothes on blushing like a tomato?"

"I... um, yeah." Percy began to undress as quickly as he could neatly manage, folding each item of clothing as he took it off, with the exception of his underwear because, well, years of teasing in school and three rather critical boyfriends had stripped him of that anal-retentive habit. He finished off by settling his glasses on top of the dresser and then stood before Oliver, glad that he was near-sighted enough to not be able to read his expression.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous, Percy," Oliver said, assessing him. "Always have been – lean and pale, covered in all those freckles. You fucking glow." He beckoned Percy forward with a single crooked finger. "I used to watched you in the showers, when I could get away with it," he murmured as Percy finally reached the bed, after some fumbling, and kneeled and then crawled up to join him. "Funny that you were probably doing the same."

He leaned forward and captured Percy's mouth in a short but passionate kiss before breaking away and coaxing Percy to lie on his stomach beside him. Percy groaned as his cock rubbed against the over-starched bedsheets, then moaned and shimmied his hips backwards into Oliver's hands as they massaged his arse. He heard Oliver move to the side, mattress springs croaking, and flip open the top of the Astroglide with a click. The prep would be tedious as hell, but Percy needed it, especially since Oliver was a bit on a the big side, all joking aside. Nothing unmanageable, but bigger than Edwin had been, at least. Though it was just on par with the dildo Percy kept hidden away in his closet. He blushed as he thought about the toy he'd been mortified about buying, but Charlie had practically made him get it (or at least that's what he told himself).

He jerked into the mattress as he felt something cold and wet touch his hole. Oliver's fingers were tentative at first, but he gained confidence as Percy began to writhe and moan softly, and pretty soon Percy was sufficiently prepared and hard again – just as Oliver had promised.

"See, I told you." Oliver leaned over Percy and kissed the back of his neck softly, affectionately. "Hard in no time." He paused, massaging the tense muscles of Percy's lower back with his lube-slick fingers. "Do you need me to go slow?"

"No," Percy groaned as Oliver worked out a kink at the base of his spine. "I'm no virgin, Oliver." He pulled away from Oliver's exploring fingers and turned over onto his back, hooking his arms under his knees and lifted his lower body. He knew he was exposing his arse in a most debauched and shameless way, but felt a decidedly uncharacteristic thrill at the idea. Usually it was lights off, sheets up, but he didn't mind with Oliver. It simply turned him on even more, knowing that the heat in Oliver's eyes was because of him, that as he worked his hand lazily over his cock, he was thinking about fucking Percy into the mattress. And Percy really hoped he would.

"I know, but..."

"Please, Oliver, just fuck me."

"Fuck, Percy, you have no idea how hot it is hearing that come from you."

"Why don't you show me." Percy tried not to stumble over any of the words and hoped he sounded sufficiently coy. It seemed he must have, as Oliver was over him and then inside him in what seemed like seconds. Percy arched his back and gripped hard against the bedsheets as the sudden, fast breach of Oliver's cock into his body stretched and burned. He hooked his arms around Oliver's back and braced himself against the rough, steady thrusts.

Oliver leaned down and clamped his mouth over Percy's, nearly folding him in two, stretching Percy's legs back until he felt a prickling burn in his hamstrings and thighs. He groaned against the painful stretch, but the tension slowly dissipated as he focused instead on the increased pleasure he got from the sharper angle. Every few strokes Oliver grazed Percy's prostate and with his legs thrown over Oliver's shoulders, Percy found he could lazily nibble and chew at Oliver's jaw and collarbone, enjoying the taste of sweat on his skin.

The sex was raw yet intimate, as Oliver kept his eyes locked with Percy's as they moved together, sweating, panting, swearing intermittently until they both came, a few minutes apart. Both thoroughly spent, they broke apart and lay side by side on the bed, their chests heaving, limbs like jelly. If possible, this orgasm topped his earlier one, something that hadn't seemed possible twenty minutes ago but now made Percy ecstatically happy he hadn't made Oliver stop before.

"This makes me wish I smoked," Oliver piped up beside him.

"Why on earth is that?" Percy asked, incredulously.

"In the movies, they always smoke after they've had a fantastic shag. And that was a fantastic shag. Astronomical, even."

"Yes, well, it's no excuse for taking up a filthy habit like that and – ow!" Percy jerked up, batting at his feet, where Archimedes was perched, starring beady-eyed at him.

"What?" Oliver shifted up onto his forearms.

"Archimedes! He scratched me."

Oliver looked down at the cat, then arched a brow. "Did your cat just watch us have sex? That's... weird, man."

"He's never done this before." Percy leaned down and stroked behind Archimedes ears. "You silly cat, Oliver and I were just – ow! He did it again!"

"I think he's jealous."

"That's ridiculous, cats don't get jeal-ow, ow, ow!" Percy jerked his legs away from Archimedes, scooting back on the bed and closer to Oliver. Oliver leaned over and said in his ear, "Seriously, I don't think your cat likes me."

"If he didn't like you, he'd be scratching you. Archimedes, you idiot, would you go away? Shoo! ... Oh!"

Archimedes had now moved over to Oliver and was rubbing against his calf, purring. Percy experimentally lay down next to Oliver, one leg thrown over his, arm across his chest. The cat seemed to approve, and settled himself on Oliver's other side, curling into a ball in the crook of his hip.

"Percy, I think your cat is encouraging our sexual relationship. This is very weird."

"Well, we should just go with it, I guess. Unless you want him digging his claws in your legs."

"You mean digging his claws in your legs."

"Well, yes. Anyway. I'm knackered... and, um," Percy gulped nervously. "You're welcome to stay the night."

"Of course," Oliver accepted, kissing Percy lightly on the forehead. "And if you hadn't asked, I would have dug my claws into your legs. Or some more sensitive parts of your body," he joked.

Percy swatted playfully at Oliver's chest and pulled himself out of bed, leaving just long enough to turn off the lights and grab the discarded duvet cover without incurring Archimedes' wrath. They settled down under warm down, just enjoying the feel of the each other's bodies. Percy was nearly asleep when Oliver broke the rhythm of their steady breathing, and Archimedes' soft purrs.

"Thank you for tonight, Percy," he spoke into the darkness of the room. "You have no idea how hard it is to find men I can go out with."

"I have trouble believing that," Percy tutted at the ceiling. "You're... you!"

"Yes, I am me. But 'me' is an up-and-coming rugby player who plays for a national team. There are hundreds of men who could just as happily sell their sordid story to the papers as have it off with me, and the press would have a field day. I've been warned by the team's publicists to keep my sexuality very low key. Low key to the point of being non-existent, basically," he sighed heavily. "It's such a relief to find you, Perce, someone I know I can trust. Someone who won't just use me."

Warmth flooded Percy's chest and his stomach did that unfortunate fluttering thing he was starting to realise meant he was hopelessly invested in Oliver. "It's just as hard for us normal blokes to find someone, you know. Someone we can trust, with common interests and values. I... I'm glad I found you, too."

They settled into silence again, but Percy only lasted two minutes before interrupting their attempted sleep again.

"Is it bad that I'm happy Charlie will get off my back now?"

Oliver laughed. "No, that's not bad. I imagine it'll take care of your mum, too?"

"You know my family too well," Percy said dryly.

Oliver laughed before going quiet again and Percy sensed he was gearing up to say something else.

"Listen, I know you don't care for sport..." Oliver began uncertainly, "but you should really start coming to games."

Percy snorted into the darkness.

"Oh, come on, the WAGs could use a bit of a shake-up. And you've got a finer arse than the lot of them. At least yours hasn't been poked, prodded, sucked and injected with things. Though I wouldn't mind doing all of the above within the right context."

Percy couldn't help laughing. He rolled over, using his hands to guide him and found Oliver's soft lips. He administered Oliver with an affectionate but perfunctory kiss and moved back again, burrowing his head against the crook of his shoulder.

"Good night, Oliver," he announced, grinning into the dark.

Charlie was definitely right about Oliver. And, for once, Percy was glad to have listened to his brother.

Finis