Archive of Our Own

She felt happy.

Percy stared at the three words, feeling anything but. He sipped his lukewarm tea, mood souring even further. It was like he forgot how to write. Staring at these three stupid words brought up other emotions that he could happily translate to words, but his stupid, lovesick, idiotic editor needed him to add more “depth” and “emotion” to his romantic subplot.

Percy himself wanted to do away with the entire romance. It was unnecessary, adding nothing to Bea’s journey. It only hindered her efforts to save herself and her town. His editor insisted, saying that romance in fantasy novels was all the rage, and if he wanted any success in publishing, his protagonist had to fall in love.

Percy believed himself to be an excellent writer. For him, the words came easy. Describing the pride Bea felt when she uncovered the chief’s secret was easy to write; the scene took less than an hour. When Bea felt anger at her friend’s betrayal, Percy’s fingers never left his keyboard, done in less than half an hour. And the frustration, oh the frustration, she constantly felt with her family. It’s like the words wrote themselves. Percy didn’t even have to think.

The thing that got him stuck was the emotion of love. Happy? Percy could write happy. He was quite proud of the chapter that embodied the happiness Bea felt after the raid. Passion? That he could do as well, if the steamy scene in the shed was any indication.

But love? That nervous feeling in a person’s chest when a person looks at them, or that overwhelming sense of needing to be with a person. Nothing. Percy never felt that before with anyone. And he was perfectly content with that. He didn’t need to trip over himself or blush at everything when another person was around. But apparently Bea needed to.

The clear, concise way he showed her emotion was not “realistic enough”. Nothing about love on TV or in romance books was realistic. His own failed attempt at a relationship taught him that. Yes, his parents had the love story of a lifetime. His older brother, Bill, found the love of his life, and his younger brother, Ron, was head over heels for his best friend, but it wasn’t always that easy.

Which is why Percy dreaded the monthly dinners his mother insisted on having. He got up, noticing the time. He put on his Sunday best, making sure his hair was properly slicked back. He readied himself for the grilling he would get as he hailed a cab.

His mother would talk to him about his love life, asking when he was going to settle down with a nice girl and when are you going to give me grandchildren, Percy? I'm getting old. The twins would make jokes at his expense about how no girl would find him interesting enough to talk to, let alone date.

When Percy knocked on the door, Charlie opened it. Percy couldn’t help the small smile that overtook his face. Charlie was the only other person who understood how Percy felt. That was because he was aromantic, which Percy was sure he was not, but still. It felt nice to not be the only one who didn’t moon over people constantly.

“Perce!” Charlie cheered, bringing Percy into a small side hug, quickly letting go. His brother understood him, knowing he wasn’t one for overt affection.

“Hello, Charlie,” Percy answered, pulling off his coat.

“You’re last to arrive, which was probably best. The twins already got yelled at by mum.”

Percy shook his head. The twins could not go a single dinner without stirring up a ruckus. It was exhausting being in their vicinity. It’s like they feed off of your energy enough to annoy you and then feed off your annoyance. Percy never went a dinner without wanting to throttle them.

“Percy!” The room exploded when he went inside. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the twins cheered loudly, lapping up his embarrassment. His mother quickly pulled him into a hug, one that Percy sank into. No matter how much these dinners might exhaust his patience, there was nothing like receiving a hug from his mother. If his father or brother tried hugging him like that, he would snap their arms. He didn’t want to leave his mother’s warmth, but the twins and Ron would tease him if he stayed any longer than necessary.

He pulled away, but his mother grabbed him by the shoulders. “It’s so good to see you, Percy, dear.”

Percy gave her a proper smile. “It’s nice to see you, too, mum.”

“No girl?” she teased. Percy did actually roll his eyes this time, ignoring the twins' coos. Percy would love to tell her that he wasn’t actually interested in girls, but alas, that would open a whole other can of worms with his brothers. He suspected Bill and Charlie already knew, older brother intuition and all, but the twins and Ron? He didn’t feel like dealing with that just yet. Ginny would be more understanding, which is why Percy liked her best out of his younger siblings. He took his place next to her, giving their father across from him a strained smile.

Their relationship hasn’t been the best ever since he took on a job with the Malfoys. In Percy’s defense, they had loads of benefits and a fairly decent paycheck. His father wanted nothing to do with it, saying that the Malfoys were a proud, greedy, and conniving family out to get him.

He wasn’t wrong. The Malfoy family were assholes, and a day never went by when Percy didn’t want to punch them. So when the conversation unfortunately went back to them and Percy’s job, he internally winced.

“So?” his father asked. “How’s work?”

Percy’s jaw tightened as his fork skidded across the plate. Everyone’s conversations paused, eyes on them. Percy swallowed tightly. “Good.”

“Just good?”

“So, Percy, how's the new apartment?” Bill asked loudly, a poor and unsubtle attempt to steer the conversation into safer waters.

“I’m able to afford it, thanks to my job,” Percy answered icily.

“That’s good,” his father said, taking a bite of his chicken. He smiled, though everyone could detect the tension between his eyebrows. “I’m glad.”

Percy couldn’t handle the suffocating tension between them, longing for the days when his father was happy with what he was doing, asking for more information, completely fascinated by even the smallest things. “They’re terrible people, though.”

His father looked up.

“Don’t appreciate their employees. We’re the reason their company is even afloat.” Percy leaned forward, his father following. “They gave a promotion to Goyle of all people. The idiot doesn’t know his head from his ass.”

His father boomed out a laugh, and Percy’s mouth flickered up. “That’s too bad, son. There are always other things you can do.”

“I know, but I need the money.”

“I can always lend you the money.” Percy bit his tongue. This was the root of the conflict. The fact that his father thought he had money to give. His father wanted to give, wanted to support his children in any way he could. But he couldn’t. He could barely keep himself out of bankruptcy.

As if his father could read his mind, he said, “I’m serious.” He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “My great uncle died,” he declared, grinning.

“He does know that death usually isn’t a good thing, right, George?” Fred whispered.

“I would hope so, Fred.”

“Why’re you smiling about that, dad?” Ginny slowly asked.

“It’s a sad ordeal, I know. May he rest in peace,” his father said, dipping his head. “But he did leave me, his only living heir, a house.”

The table broke out into excited whispers.

“So what? We have an extra house?” Charlie asked.

“I talked to a real estate agent. They say the house could go for over 800,000.”

Percy’s jaw dropped, his face mirrored all over the table.

“Bloody hell!" Ron yelled.

“Language, Ron,”

“Sorry, mum.”

“I was thinking that maybe, Percy, you can head on over there and check out the house; clean it up a bit?” his father suggested.

“Where is the house?”

“The country,” his father answered nervously.

The protests on Percy’s lips were drowned out by his siblings. “You have to go, Percy,” Ginny exclaimed. “You complain about work every time I call. This could be your getaway.”

“You can get out of city life. Get some dirt under your nails,” Charlie said.

“It’ll do you some good,” Bill added.

“And maybe get that stick out of your ass,” Fred snickered.

“You have enough vacation days saved up for a few weeks,” his father added.

Percy’s eyes searched for his mother’s. She had an encouraging smile on his face. Percy sighed, shoulders dropping. “Fine.”

Percy crossed his arms, grumbling as the scenery passed him by. The rolling hills and green trees brought back unwanted feelings of nostalgia. Percy hated living in the countryside.

He was fifteen when they had to sell their house and move to the city for his father’s work. Percy was so excited to get out of there. He hated being the only kid his age for miles. There was nothing to do out in the country. The only way to find anything remotely interesting was to go into town, which he barely got to do. His parents were always caught up with the younger kids, and his older brothers always left without him.

He remembered the distinct feeling of renewal when he waved goodbye to their house, finally heading into something bigger. The city, despite all its downsides, was where Percy belonged, where he thrived. He crawled his way out of the small town and was working toward that major promotion at work.

These feelings were how he came up with Bea, the ambitious girl from a small town ready to take on the world. It’s how he coped with staying in the country for so long. When his brother Charlie got a hold of his rough manuscript, he forced him to try and get it edited and published.

“We’re pulling up,” the driver called as he turned onto a narrower road.

Percy’s jaw dropped as the driver got closer. “Jesus.”

“Holy hell,” the driver exclaimed, turning to him with wide eyes. “You’re living here?”

“Temporary. We’re selling,” Percy said, still dazed at the house, trying to take in every detail of its vast exterior. It was one of the older houses. House wasn’t even the right word. It was a manor. A bigass, frankly obscene, absolutely beautiful manor.

Percy paid the man, eyes still on the house, taking in the way the shrubbery added pops of green to the sea of almond gray. He climbed up the steps to the actual walkway, a green grassy path to the front of the looming door. The pillars were smooth marble, adding a touch of Greek architecture to the Victorian style of the house.

Percy inserted the key into the large, brown, wooden door. It swung open, leaving Percy gasping at the interior. If he thought the exterior was a lot, the interior was massive. A large staircase led up, splitting into two directions, leaving a mezzanine at the top. A large chandelier twinkled over Percy as he walked into the house.

He climbed up the stairs, choosing to go right. The halls seem to go on forever, a far cry from the cramped one bedroom  he was used to. The entire house could have hosted the entire Weasley family and all their close friends.

Percy chose the room closest to the staircase, hanging his bag on the chair and propping his suitcase near the cream-colored walls. Percy let out a sigh, still in awe. His entire apartment could fit into this room.

Percy lay down in the surprisingly comfy sheets, burrowing into the warmth. He felt restless, and the house gave him a sense of dread. If he were to die here, no one would find him for days, maybe even weeks. He pushed these thoughts out of his head. He came here for a reason. Inspect the house for a while, and then get it ready and on the market to sell.

Determined, he hopped out of bed and rustled through his bag for a notepad and pencil. He briskly walked out of the room, deciding to explore the outside area first. The inside was too much to start with.

It turned out the sprawling lawn did not all belong to Percy. A boundary separated him from the other side. The sight of the overgrown moss itched a part of Percy that said he had to get it cleaned. He found a pair of clippers in the offensively large shed made out of clear glass and set himself to work.

He got through cutting down a few branches and stuffing them in the garbage bags before he was interrupted.

“Didn’t think anyone was going to clean that side,” a voice said with a slight Scottish twinge. Percy looked up.

It almost felt like someone squeezed Percy’s airways, only letting out enough for him to not die right there and then. The first thing he noticed about the man were his shoulders. The tight white shirt he wore stretched over them, the seams straining. Percy swallowed, looking up into bright hazel eyes squinting against the sun.

“The old twit never did. Always gave me hell when I brought it up,” he continued, supposedly oblivious to Percy’s internal panic. He never knew a person could pull such a reaction from him.

Finding his voice, Percy straightened up, praying there wasn’t any dirt on his shirt, and replied, “The old twit was my grand uncle.”

The man flushed red, much to Percy’s amusement. “You didn’t let me finish. He was-he’s-” 

A smile twitched on Percy’s lips before he schooled his features. “Don’t worry. I didn’t know him. We were actually celebrating his death when we got the news.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Bit morbid, don’t ya think?”

Percy shrugged. “Got us this big of a house, didn’t it?”

The man’s eyes lit up even brighter. “You’re moving in?”

Percy shook his head. “Merely selling. I don’t think I can stand to stay in the country longer than I need to.”

“You’re a city snob?” he asked, smirking.

Percy scoffed. “Hardly. I grew up in the country.”

“Country bumpkin got bored of his small life and tries to make it big in the city,” he teased.

Percy moved his tongue against his teeth, slightly defensive. “I made it big, just fine.”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to be offensive. I’m sorry if it came out rude.”

Percy let his guard down. “No, it’s fine. Just a bit on edge. The house is really big, kind of overwhelming.” Percy felt like he was oversharing, but the man’s comforting smile did something to his insides and made him want to spill every secret he ever had. “I grew up surrounded by people in a cramped house. It’s a huge change.”

The man smiled, soft and sweet. “If you need anything, I’m just across the fence; give me a holler, darling. I’ll be happy to assist.”

Percy felt himself blush from head to toe, face probably matching his hair. “I’ll do that, but who am I hollering for?”

The man extended a hand. “Oliver. Oliver Wood.”

“Percy Weasley,” he responded, gripping his hand. He had an extremely strong grip, hands warm and surprisingly soft.

“I’ll see you around, darling,” Oliver called as he walked away.

Percy didn’t know what came over him at that moment, but he had a strong urge to write. The thoughts and emotions in his head needed to get out. He was glad no one was around because he wasn’t too proud of the mad dash he made to the house, clippers and garbage bag forgotten. He skipped up the stairs two at a time, hurdling into his room.

He quickly grabbed his laptop from his bag, loading up his story. He found the first scene he struggled on. Everything before this point in the story was easy to write, but then came the time for Bea to meet the supposed love of her life, and Percy had no idea how that felt.

But the feelings he got from Oliver could be used for Bea. Percy certainly wasn’t in love with the man and wasn’t going to fall in love with him any time soon, but every cheesy romance he read started with this thing. The sweaty palms, racing heart, and caught breath. Percy completely transformed the scene, adding more depth and emotion than he knew he was capable of.

The sun had set by the time he finished. Bea suddenly went from being just nervous to someone with complicated emotions flooding her head, to the point where she couldn’t make out a single one, much like Percy in this moment.

Percy finally shut his laptop, finally content with the scene, and he was sure his editor would be, too. Exhausted, he dragged himself out of bed for something to eat before he knocked out on the bed.

Percy scolded himself as he rushed down the stairs of the huge house. He overslept. He was supposed to be in town, buying groceries so he could make himself something that wasn’t fast food.

Percy rushed out of the house, pulling on his coat. He managed to get down the stairs before running into a very solid presence. The first thing that Percy registered, even before the fact that he was on the ground, was the amount of glistening skin.

Oliver shone with sweat, dripping down his neck, past his broad shoulder, and down his sculpted abs, disappearing into the dip of his V muscles. Percy swallowed; words caught in his throat.

“Oh shit. I am so sorry, darling. Here,” Oliver apologized, extending it out. Percy stared stupidly at it. Oliver raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I don’t bite, unless that’s something you're into.” Percy flushed red as Oliver grinned.

Percy gripped his hand, which was sweaty and warm, strangely comforting. Oliver hauled him up, grinning. “Can't have you falling for me so quickly.”

“Shut up,” Percy mumbled, heat flaring on his cheeks.

Oliver laughed. “Where are you headed?”

“Into town. Big house, but no food.”

Oliver’s face lit up. “Hey, why don’t I go get freshened up, and then I can buy you breakfast, or, well, lunch?"

“I don’t-”

“As an apology for almost bruising your pretty face.”

The heat on his face intensified. “Yeah, no, okay. That sounds good.” He cursed at his stutter. How the hell did Oliver manage to pull such a strong and pathetic reaction out of him? Maybe it was because he was sweaty and shirtless. Percy pointedly did not look down, meeting Oliver’s pretty hazel eyes instead. That did not help.

“Give me five minutes,” Oliver called, running down to his house.

Percy suddenly looked down at the clothes he was wearing. He didn’t look the best for his… hang out? Is that what he’s calling it? with Oliver. He wasn’t even wearing a nice button-down, just a white hoodie and jeans, of all things. Percy groaned. Did he have enough time to run up and get changed? Why did he even care?

Before he could make a split second decision, Oliver came rushing out, looking like the model he was in a fitted sweater and black jeans. Percy felt lightheaded.

“Already. Let’s go,” he said, jogging up to join Percy.

“Yeah.” Percy started heading toward the path, but Oliver stopped him with a strong hand on the shoulder.

“You can’t possibly want to walk there. It’s a long one. Come on.”

Percy followed Oliver the opposite way, eyes widening when they reached their mode of transportation. “Absolutely not,” Percy said, watching as Oliver moved to straddle the motorcycle. “I am not getting on that death trap.”

“Oh, come on,” Oliver said, beckoning him over. Percy, against his better judgment, listened. “I’ll protect you. And here, you can have the helmet.”

“What about you? Where’s your helmet?”

“I only have one. I don’t usually ride with people.”

Percy couldn’t help the pleased rush that went through him, knowing he was the only one Oliver wanted to ride with. He took the helmet, placing it on his head and swinging his leg over the bike. “Go slow.”

Oliver chuckled, starting up the bike. The engine’s roar made Percy jump, plastering himself against Oliver’s back. “Hold on!" Oliver yelled over the engine, revving it before he sped up. Percy held on tightly, enough so that he could feel Oliver’s abdomen muscle moving underneath his hands. If Percy held on a bit tighter than necessary, that was his business.

The scenery flashed by, a blur of green and brown; the only thing Percy could focus on was the warmth between the two of them. Percy could bask in it forever. Oliver slowed when they reached town, completely stopping in front of a quaint little café called Three Broomsticks.

“What’s it mean?” Percy asked when they got off the bike, staring up at the brick building. It was cozy-looking, almost like a winter cabin.

“No idea,” Oliver answered. “Whenever someone asks, Madam Rosmoerta just laughs real loudly.” He held open the door for Percy, who cursed the small gesture for bringing such a warm, fuzzy feeling in him.

They settled into a booth in the back. A cheerful, blonde waitress greeted them, red lips stretched in a grin. “Heya, Oliver. Who's your friend?” Her eyes twinkled with a knowing look that Percy couldn’t decipher.

Oliver’s cheeks reddened, much to Percy’s surprise. “Rosmerta, this is Percy. He moved into the old twit’s house.”

“I’m merely getting it ready to sell,” Percy corrected. He couldn’t forget the reason he was here.

“It’s a pretty nice house. I’ll give him that. Anywho, what can I get you?”

“I’ll get an Earl Gray and a pimento sandwich,” Oliver said.

“I’ll take a Greek salad,” Percy answered. “With Yorkshire tea.”

Madam Rosmerta nodded, already walking away to assist the old couple that just walked in. “Yorkshire?” Oliver commented.

“As dark as bitter as my soul, according to my brothers.”

“I don’t think you're bitter. Bit wrung tight, but that’s cute.”

Heat licked up his neck as Percy ducked his head. “I’m not cute.”

Oliver only winked at him. “Brothers? Plural. How many do you have?”

“There are six of us, along with our younger sister.”

“Jesus, your parents must have-”

Percy groaned. “Don’t. I’ve heard it so many times. I don’t want to think about my parents shagging.”

Oliver chuckled. “I was going to say they must have had their hands full. You think of your parents shagging often?”

Percy mock-glared at him. “Shut up.”

Oliver held his hands up in defense, teasing a smile playing on his lips. Percy grinned properly, in a way he had never before. They laughed throughout their conversation, Percy barely registering when their food came. His main focus was Oliver; the food secondary, despite being delicious. It would have been perfect if not for-

“I hate olives,” Percy said, picking them out of his salad. Normally he would shut up and just eat them; there was no need to make a large fuss, but there was a nagging part in the back of his mind.

“Can I get them? I love olives,” Oliver said. Percy shoveled them onto his plate, small smile on his face. “What?”

Percy shook his head. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

Oliver leaned forward. “No, tell me.”

“It was this stupid thing my family came up with. They call it the Olive Theory. My mom hates olives, but my dad loves them. My brother Bill hates them, but his wife loves them.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. Percy internally swore. It’s like he completely lost his filter. Percy tried to amend his statement. “And my brother, Fred, hates olives, but his twin, George, loves them.”

“Do you believe in that?”

“No, it’s complete rubbish.”

“I mean the idea of someone being your other half.”

Percy scoffed. That idea was always bizarre to him. There was no way there was a person out there who was absolutely perfect for him. No one was going to tolerate his quiet nature and bookish tendencies, put up with his endless rants, and his need for everything to be orderly. They weren’t going to like the fact that Percy was willing to do anything to achieve his goals.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“I believe there are people you work well with and people you don’t.”

“And me?” Oliver asked, almost looking uncertain.

“I think we work well,” Percy answered. He didn’t know much about Oliver, but he knew if he got to know him, Percy could find the truth in that statement.

Plus, the pleased smile on Oliver’s face was worth any lie.

The itch in Percy’s brain came back with full force after their date. Instead of exploring the house or trying to get it on the market, Percy started writing the next troublesome scene. His editor said that the first time Bea and the love of her life hung out, it fell flat.

Now, Percy’s hands flew over the keyboards, injecting more emotion into the writing than he even knew he had. His change had them hiding out in a burrow, sharing secrets when they thought they were going to die.

The words poured out almost as easily as the frustration he felt with his family. The twins were constantly texting him, bugging him with questions, and his mum asking him when they could come visit. Call him selfish, but he wanted to enjoy this house and its neighbor a bit more before opening it up to his family.

Which is why, when Oliver asked if he wanted to hang out the next evening, Percy jumped at the chance. He found himself wrapped up in a blanket in Oliver’s living room, watching Avengers: Endgame.

“But I don’t get it. If 2014 Thanos gets killed, then how did he wipe them out in the first place? It’s a paradox. The grandfather paradox,” Percy said, squinting at the movie as Captain America fought Thanos with the hammer.

“It’s an alternate timeline. What happened doesn’t affect this timeline,” Oliver attempted to explain.

“But in that alternate timeline, which means in the original, they never got the others back."

“You’re thinking too much into it. Most people just come for the explosions and Chris Evans.”

Percy nodded to himself. “But-”

Oliver leaned over and placed a hand over Percy’s mouth. “Turn your brain off.” Oliver’s other hand rested on Percy’s hip for a split second before digging into his side.

An unwarranted laugh escaped Percy’s mouth as Oliver’s other hand joined in. “Say you won’t think anymore,” Oliver said, laughing with him.

“I’ll stop thinking. Jesus Ollie!”

Oliver pulled away, broad grin on his face. “What’d you just call me?”

“Nothing,” Percy stuttered, smile still on his face and heat on his cheeks.

“No, no. You called me Ollie.”

“Did I?”

A light pink blush dusted Oliver’s cheek as he sat back down on his side of the sofa. “Don’t worry. I like it.” He gave Percy a smile that made his insides squirm. Percy looked away, sure that his cheeks were as red as his hair.

They settled into the couch, Oliver’s arm stretched over Percy’s shoulders, watching as bright portals opened up and heroes began to gather.

“Why is Thanos just standing there?”

A pillow hit his face.

“Shut up, darling.”

Percy spent the next few days hanging out with Oliver instead of preparing the house for sale. It wasn’t like him to blow off work, but Percy couldn’t bring himself to do anything if it meant he could hang out with Oliver.

Today, he was slowly starting to regret it as he stared into Oliver’s surprised eyes from across the kitchen counter. “What do you mean you never rode a bike?” he cried, like it was the most offensive thing someone could say to him.

Percy shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “My parents never got around to teaching me, and I didn’t want to learn, not after Charlie’s accident.”

“But-but riding bikes in the summer was like my whole childhood,” Oliver sputtered.

“It’s not that big a deal, Ollie.”

"Yes, it is,” Oliver insisted. “Meet me outside in ten minutes.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to teach you how to ride a bike.”

Which is how Percy found himself clutching onto the handlebars of a worn-out bike for dear life as Oliver held his hips. “Just pedal.”

“Do not let go!”

“I’m not going to.”

“Seriously, Ollie, if you let go, I will never forgive you.”

“Just pedal, darling.”

Percy started pedaling, the bike lurching forward. Oliver ran behind him, holding onto his hips, keeping balance. If Percy wasn’t so terrified, he would be scandalized. The bike straightened out as Percy continued pedaling down the road. “I’m doing it,” he cheered, letting himself feel this unbridled joy.

He had wanted to learn how to ride before with the twins, but his parents never really paid mind. His older brothers thought he already knew what they were teaching the twins, Ron, and Ginny. Percy never said anything out of embarrassment.

But with Oliver, it’s like that part of his brain—the one that overthought every move, the one that needed him to be perfect at everything he did—just took a vacation to the States. It was sipping pina coladas with his stress and need to work on Miami Beach or whatever the hell people do in America.

The parts of his brain that weren’t off gambling in Las Vegas registered the fact that there were no hands on his hips anymore. Percy whirled around to see Oliver several meters away, cheering. “You’re doing it, Perce.”

“You let go!” he yelled, hands wobbling. The bike swerved left, and suddenly he was on the ground, the bike on top of him. Thank god he put on the knee and elbow pads, no matter how stupid they made him look.

Oliver jogged over to him, look of concern etched on his face. “You alright, darling?”

“You promised you wouldn’t let go.” Percy definitely did not huff.

Oliver’s face glowed with amusement as he helped Percy up. “But you were doing it.”

“Whatever.”

That night, Percy reopened his laptop, rewriting a couple more scenes in his book. He sent the first few revised chapters to his editor, who loved it. He called him a couple days ago, raving about how this could be the next big hit. Percy felt very pleased with himself.

His phone lit up with a message. He was about to ignore it, thinking it was from his family, when he saw the contact name. A smile bloomed on his face as he opened up Oliver’s message.

as a apology for getting you onto the bike

lets go on a picnic

Percy titled his head at the odd request.

A picnic?

yeah 

itll be fun

plus i owe you for your horrendous accident on the bike

It looks like you only hang out with me as an apology for bodily harm.

First the running thing, and now the bike.

so is that a yes 😏

Yes, it is

🥳

Shut up.

😘

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the lush meadow. A checkered blanket spread out under the shade of an old oak tree, with delicious sandwiches, fruits, and a basket of wine laid out across it.

“When you said picnic, you really meant picnic,” Percy commented as Oliver poured two glasses of wine.

Oliver handed him a glass. “Well, of course. Only the cheesiest for you, darling.”

Percy grinned, ignoring the turning in his stomach.

Percy awoke that morning to an email from his work, telling him that he was in the running for a promotion to be CFO, a position he's been working extremely hard for. That email finally shook him to his senses. He put the house on the market in the next hour.

Oliver held out his glass. “To cheesy picnics and lasting memories.”

Percy clinked his glass against Oliver’s, the resounding click only fueling the guilt in his stomach.

Oliver took a sip before putting down his glass and reaching over to hold Percy’s hands. Percy looked down at their joined hands in surprise. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah,” Percy whispered, subconsciously leaning closer.

“I like you, Percy. A lot. I know it’s only been a few days, but I want to see where this can go with you.”

Percy swallowed. He never thought he would hear those words or that he would be able to feel such a strong reaction to them. Every part of his tactical brain was telling him no. This was not a part of his plan. He was supposed to go back to the city and accept the CFO position. But it was tired after coming home from vacation, letting the part that craved Oliver’s affection, that loved feeling comfortable, win out. Percy leaned forward and connected their lips. Oliver made a sound of surprise but kissed him back with enthusiasm.

Oliver’s lips were soft, and he tasted like wine. Percy wound his arms around his broad shoulders as Oliver slid a hand into Percy’s slicked-back hair as the other gripped his waist. Percy pulled away, Oliver’s lips chasing him.

Percy opened his eyes, meeting Oliver’s hazel ones, full of emotion, Percy couldn’t decipher and for once in his life, he didn’t try to. Before he could kiss Oliver again, a drop of water landed on his face.

“Oh, shit,” Oliver said as rain began to drizzle down. They rushed to pack up the picnic, laughing all the way through. Oliver grabbed Percy’s hand as they ran back to the house, their laughs echoing throughout the forest.

They crashed into Oliver’s living room, tripping over themselves. Percy’s cheeks hurt from grinning so much. Oliver ignored their wetness, instead pushing Percy up against a wall and kissing him like a starving man.

Percy couldn't deny the fact that he liked it as his back hit the wall and he let out a strangled moan. He could feel Oliver’s smirk against his mouth. Oliver slid his hands down his side, past his waist and hips, and to the backs of his thighs. Percy gasped as he hoisted him up, wrapping his legs around Oliver’s waist. He has wondered since the day they met what these strong arms could do.

“Shit, Ollie,” Percy cursed.

Oliver pulled back, staring at Percy. “Did you just curse?”

Percy rolled his eyes, bringing their lips together again. He clutched tightly at Oliver’s neck as he lifted him off the wall and carried him toward the direction of the bedroom.

“Ollie,” Percy whined, as said man plastered himself against his back, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Percy groaned, turning the stove off before turning to attach their lips together. “You’re insatiable.” Oliver only smirked in response, molding their bodies together so Percy could feel the length of their bodies pressed together.

The past few days have been nothing short of amazing, even if the ever-building knot of guilt tightened around Percy. Oliver turned out to be an even more amazing boyfriend, making Percy breakfast in bed the day after and showering him with flowers for the next few days. It somehow made Percy feel on top of the work and also the lowest, foulest piece of shit on the face of the planet.

He was going to have to tell Oliver soon. Percy wasn't going to be staying for long. The buyers were going to come around next week, and as far as Oliver knew, he hadn’t put the house on the market yet.

Percy cursed himself for being so selfish, taking everything Oliver was giving him, knowing he was going to have to break it sooner or later.

And it turned out to be sooner rather than later. Percy picked up the sound of rambunctious laughter, pulling away from Oliver to look out the windows. His mother and father led his pack of siblings up the pathway leading to the house. “No.” Percy swore, rushing to the door.

“I didn’t know your family was coming over,” Oliver said, following Percy.

“You and me both.” Percy straightened up, flattening his hair, schooling his features, and opening the door. “Hello. I was not expecting you guys.”

“Oh, Percy!” his mother cried, pulling him into a tight hug, much to his embarrassment. “We figured we would come here for our monthly dinner instead.”

“And we wanted to take a look at the house before the buyers,” his father added, patting his shoulder. His siblings, minus Charlie and Bill, had already taken over the living room and began running upstairs.

“You found buyers?” Oliver asked, an underlying tone to his voice that made Percy want to shrivel up and die.

“Oh, hello, dear. You must be Oliver,” his mum said, and much to his mortification, she pulled Oliver into a hug. Oliver awkwardly hugged back, eyes wide, as his mother squished him. Percy would have laughed if he weren’t panicking.

“Percy’s mentioned me?” he asked.

“Yeah. Said you were the nice neighbor that helped him fix up the house.”

“Neighbor?” Oliver said, eyes flickering over to Percy.

Before he could answer, Ginny yelled from the top of the stairs. “Mom! Dad! You have to check out this house.” His dad pulled his mum up the stairs.

“Did you tell your family about us?”

“No,” Percy admitted. “This is very new, and I’m not exactly out to them yet.” Percy rubbed the back of his neck.

“Are you ashamed about being gay?”

“No!” Percy cried. “No. I just don’t think I need to tell them and take the teasing unless it’s something serious.”

Oliver tilted his head. “You don't think this is serious?”

“Ollie-”

“I really like you, Percy. A lot more than I should. You don’t feel the same.”

“I do,” Percy insisted. Words could not describe what Percy feels about Oliver.

“You don’t. You already have a buyer. You’re going to sell the house and move back to the city, leaving me.”

“That’s not fair,” Percy said. “These few weeks with you were incredible, but I can’t just leave my life in the city for something that I’m not sure is going to last.” Percy clenched his jaw. unable to look at the shine in Oliver’s eyes from the unshed tears. “You can’t expect me to give everything up. You wouldn’t do the same, would you?"

Oliver nodded. “You’re right. Maybe this is too new for us to make any big decisions. I’m going to go.” Percy moved aside, letting Oliver put his coat on. “I just want you to know. These last few weeks meant the world to me. I’ll miss you, darling.” Percy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out loud as he watched Oliver leave.

“Percy,” he heard his mother call. Percy wiped his eyes, sucking in a breath to compose himself before turning around to meet her concerned eyes. “Are you alright? Where’s Oliver?”

“He’s gone.” Percy said. It hurt for him to talk, but he swallowed harshly. “I’ll give you a proper tour of the house, yeah?”

Percy left the rest of the selling process at the hands of his father, unable to bear staying in the country any longer. The only thing that made it bearable wanted nothing to do with him. Percy went straight back to his grueling 9 to 5, putting in extra hours in an effort to forget about the past few weeks. He ignored all calls from his editor, not willing to open his story. It felt too personal now. Percy opened himself up, and reading his feelings in the form of Bea made him sick.

His self-hatred-induced pity party hasn’t gone unnoticed. Ginny’s been texting him almost every day, asking for updates. The twins popped in a few days to make sure, and he quotes, ‘he didn’t hang himself from the sheer boredom and assholery of the Malfoys.’ Even Ron’s taken notice, and he was as thick as it got.

So it shouldn’t really have surprised him when his mum appeared at his door one Sunday morning, her famous apple crumble in hand. He let her in with a resigned sigh, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince her to leave. “Hey, mum.”

She patted his cheek on her way in. Percy took her coat and placed it on one of the hooks as she padded into the house. “Percy, dear. We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” he mumbled, as he took a seat across from his mother, apple crumble between them. His mum opened the bag, sliding over a slice for Percy. He eagerly dug in, glad to eat something other than cup noodles. He hadn’t had the energy to go out and buy anything from the grocery store.

“How are you, Percy?”

“I’m fine,” Percy mumbled through a mouthful of crumble. His mum was the only other person with whom he felt comfortable enough to let go and just enjoy.

“Percy,” his mum said in that way that made him look up. She moved the crumble away from him. Percy almost whined, but he had more dignity than that. She grabbed Percy’s hands and made him look at her. “Are you okay?”

Percy felt his eyes sting as he looked at his mother. As if she could sense his feelings, she pulled him into a hug. “Shhh. It’s okay.” He clung to her, refusing to let the tears fall. They stayed like that for a while, Percy basking in his mum’s warmth.

“Is this because of that boy? Oliver? Do you miss him?”

Percy pulled away, staring at her with wide eyes. “No,” he denied. “It’s not like that.”

“Percy,” his mum said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s okay.”

Percy sighed. “How’d you know?”

His mum chuckled. “I’m your mother. I know everything.” Percy nodded, staying quiet. “Do you love him?” she asked.

Percy shrugged. “I don’t know. I barely know him.”

His mum smiled. “Love has a weird way of sneaking up on us, especially when we least expect it.”

“I can’t just leave my job and move to be with him.”

“Are you happy at your job?”

Percy really thought about it. The Malfoys continued to hang that promotion over his neck, forcing him to work harder but still not awarding it to him. No matter the extra hours he put in and the extra work he’s done.

“Look Percy.” His mum held his head in her hands. “You can’t run from the man you love, no matter how much you want to. You’re only going to make yourself miserable.”

And for the first time in his life, Percy made a split-second decision, pulling out his phone to buy train tickets as his mother held him in her arms.

Percy was starting to regret his decision as the familiar hills rolled by. What was he even thinking? Oliver might not be willing to try with him, especially after he broke his heart. The look on his face was etched in Percy’s brain. He was unable to forget the tearful eyes and sad, resigned smile, like he knew Percy was going to leave.

But Percy wanted to. He finally understood what Bea was supposed to be feeling and what emotion his editor wanted from him. He finally felt it, and he was too addicted to let it go. Maybe this was stupid and was going to end up terribly. This was the first time he made a spontaneous decision without calculating the consequences, but Oliver made it worth it. The mornings they woke up together, the nights when they fell asleep on the couch, the sweet kisses, the hot and heavy ones. Percy wanted all of it.

“We’re here,” the cab driver announced. “Why you left this big ass house I have no clue, but you’re smart to come back.”

“Let’s hope so,” Percy responded, handing the man his fare.

Percy straightened up as the man drove away. He quickly rushed up the steps to the lawn two at a time and collided head first with another solid body. He crashed to the ground, a solid presence bearing itself over him.

“Percy?” a familiar voice said from above him. Percy opened his eyes to see Oliver’s concerned face hovering over him. “What are you doing here?” he asked, helping Percy up.

“I have to tell you something,” Percy said. Oliver did his little head tilt, the one he did when he was confused.

“I have to tell you something, too. I was going to call you, but-”

Percy covered Oliver’s mouth with his hand. “Let me speak.” When Oliver nodded, Percy dropped his hand, taking a deep breath. “I really like you, and I’m sorry for saying that what we had was not serious, because it was. I never felt—no—what I felt—no—what you made” Percy paused, trying to gather his words. This is why he didn’t do spontaneity. “I never felt what I felt with you with anyone else, if that makes sense.”

Oliver smiled softly. "Yeah, it does.”

“You make me feel.” His voice cracked. “I like what I feel when I’m with you, and I really like you, so please forgive me and we can start over?"

“No,” Oliver said. Percy’s face must have done something because Oliver quickly amended his statement. “I don’t want to forget. I want to move on because, Percy, I really like you, too. I more than really like you. I think I can love you if you let me.”

Percy smiled. “I think I can love you, too.”

And as she looked into his eyes, she smiled, finally understanding that she was home.

Percy sighed, falling back in his chair, finally done with revisions. He’ll email his editor the finished copy later, but now he grinned, pride swelling in him. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him. Oliver pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

“I’m proud of me, too.”

“And can I say, I think Danny is a dashing character. I’m honored that you based him off me.”

Percy turned around in Oliver’s arms. “He’s not based on you.”

"Oh, come on, broad shoulders, cropped hair, hazel eyes. Literally me.”

“I created him for Bea before I met you.”

“And isn’t Bea just a stand-in for you?" Oliver teased, sudden glee coloring his voice.

Percy groaned. “No.”

“You literally wrote our story in your book before it happened.”

“No-”

Oliver laughed. “This is hilarious. You say you don’t believe in fate. This is proof of fate.”

Percy gave up trying to convince Oliver otherwise. Percy didn’t believe in fate, but maybe a subconscious part of him was writing the perfect guy for him since the very beginning, and maybe fate brought them together, or destiny or predestination.

Whatever it was, as Percy watched Oliver laugh, he was eternally grateful for it.