The Bitch is Back (asiswellknown) wrote in weasleys_wood,
The Bitch is Back

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Hellooo... I am Lauren, and I am new to this community. I'm 22, heading into graduate school into the fall, and an avid Percy/Oliver fan (obviously...otherwise I wouldn't have searched for the community and joined).

I thought I would bring you all a gift upon arrival. This is a bit of a fic I'm working on that doesn't have a title yet. I think it's going to be relatively long, but I'm not sure yet.

Anyway, let's get to it.

Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Rating: At the moment, a good PG-13 pushing a light R. However, I tend to get carried away.
Summary: Percy and Oliver become reacquainted after several years out of school.

It was Friday night. Percy had had a horrendous week at work; he was beginning to hate his job, which was saying something, for him. He was beginning to feel like he was the peon, the one on whom all of the undesirable jobs were dumped upon, simply because he was one of the youngest employees. Usually he didn't let it get to him. This week, something had changed, and he didn't know what it was, but he was in a terrible mood.

He left the Ministry seething with rage at the rest of the workers in his department for treating him like an inferior and like a complete imbecile. Percy needed something to take his mind off work. He saw a Muggle pub down the road, and he decided to go in and get something to drink. He never drank, but he had decided that tonight merited something to cheer him up. Percy walked through the door and sat down on one of the cracked leather seats of an old wooden bar stool.

"A beer, please," Percy said to the bartender, who handed him one almost immediately.

He felt out of place. Everyone else at the bar was with someone, or several someones, and they all seemed to be having a good time. Even the man down the bar, who wasn't really with anyone but looked incredibly familiar, was smiling and chatting up the bartender. Who could that be? Percy wondered as he drank the rest of his beer. I don't know anyone who would be in a Muggle pub. He ignored the somewhat familiar face for several minutes, trying to signal the bartender for another drink, but the bartender was too involved in conversation with the familiar man.

Finally, the bartender looked away and saw Percy looking at him with a raised eyebrow. His beer was refilled, and Percy got a good look at the man down the bar. Oliver Wood, he thought immediately. Why would Oliver Wood be in a Muggle pub? Why would Oliver Wood be in a Muggle pub dressed like that? Now that Oliver had turned fully, Percy could see that the other man was wearing jeans so tight that they looked as though they were painted on, with carefully placed holes on the thighs and several on his knees. His shirt was one of his old shirts from school, but it looked like it had shrunk a fair amount since they'd been students. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Oliver. At least he's not looking at me, Percy thought, somewhat relieved.

Percy had always found Oliver more than mildly attractive. They had been the only two Gryffindor boys of their year, and thus had shared a dormitory only between the two of them for their entire seven years of schooling. Percy had seen Oliver at every time of the day, in all states of undress. He had found that Oliver preferred to walk around naked, and, though he had hated to admit it to himself, he didn't mind. Percy had always had to try not to stare slack-jawed at Oliver when he was nude in their dormitory. He never wanted Oliver to know that he found him attractive.

Oliver, after finishing a rather animated conversation with the bartender about rugby, which he was being taught by one of the Muggleborns on the team, looked down the bar and saw a familiar head of bright red hair. What is a Weasley doing here? he wondered. For a moment, he couldn't figure out which Weasley it was, until he realised that only Percy would be by himself. Furthermore, what is Percy Weasley doing here? He decided to saunter over to the other man and find out.

"Percy!" Oliver said, clapping the other man on the shoulder, causing him to cough and choke a bit on the beer he had been swallowing at the moment. "What are you doing in this dive?"

After he'd caught his breath once more, Percy turned and looked at Oliver, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw Oliver's ensemble up close. "I suppose I could ask the same of you," he said, trying desperately to keep his voice even. This was not how he had wanted things to go at all. He was not supposed to be nervous. He was supposed to be the cool, detached Percy Weasley that he had been for so many years.

"Gotta stay out of the wizard pubs," Oliver said in a quieter tone. "United beat the Pride of Portree last week, and we may have injured a player prior to the game. All over the sports pages of the Prophet, so we have to lie low for awhile. Now you answer my question. What are you doing in this dive?"

"Bad week," Percy said, suddenly finding his mug of beer very interesting.

"That's too bad," Oliver said. "Thought you loved your job; you were so excited about it when we graduated."

"I did," Percy said, "and most of the time, I do. However, this week hasn't been the best; I've been treated like an inferior and an imbecile by many of the people in my department, though I've been with the Ministry longer than some of them have been." He made a face. "My desk has become the dumping ground for all of the undesirable paperwork, which has been frustrating." He frowned. "Just bad in general, really."

Oliver cocked his head and looked at Percy. There was something undeniably magnetic about his personality, though everyone had thought it rather stodgy and off-putting when they'd been in school. Oliver, however, had seen it as dedication, something he himself had, but for Quidditch instead of rules and schoolwork. He decided to pursue the conversation.

"You need to de-stress sometimes, Percy," Oliver said knowledgeably. "Do you even know how to?" He expected a negative answer to that question. Percy had come across as perpetually stressed and busy in school, and he didn't seem to know how to fix that problem. Oliver, however, had no problem dealing with his stress. He had found that a nice, hot bath worked quite well, but on the occasion that it didn't, he wanked off and immediately felt better. Perhaps Percy needed to learn how to do that. Maybe I'll have to teach him, Oliver thought, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"No," Percy said in a rare moment of complete honesty. "I've never even tried to de-stress, really. I've always thought that stress motivated me more, which, I suppose, it did." He shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"You're tense," Oliver replied. "I can see it in the way you sit, all rigid and uncomfortable."

Percy shifted uncomfortably.

"See?" Oliver said. "Just like that." He paused, thinking. "Listen," he continued, "being that Quidditch players are excellent at getting rid of stress, how about I help you learn how to relax?" He wondered what had caused him to say something like that. He had found Percy attractive in school, perhaps just because they were cut from the same fabric, the fabric of almost fanatical devotion to their passions. He had found Percy attractive because of the freckles. He wondered if Percy had freckles all over his body, and he had always wanted to find out. Maybe tonight I will, he thought mischievously.

Percy blinked. Oliver Wood wanted to help him learn how to de-stress? He certainly had no problem with that. A deep flush began creeping up his cheeks, matching his hair. "That...that would be nice," he muttered. "I wouldn't want to bother you, though. I don't want you going out of your way for this." He did want Oliver going out of his way, and he did want to bother Oliver. He wanted to spend time with the man he had found attractive since puberty.

"No bother at all," Oliver said cheerily. "You busy tonight?" Oliver hated to admit that he had no plans for a Friday night; usually, on a Friday night, he had several encounters with various people, birds or blokes. He really didn't mind with whom he slept; as long as they were good, that was all that mattered. Lately, he'd been leaning more toward blokes, but he didn't mind. They were better; they knew what was good and what wasn't, and that just because they'd spent one night together didn't mean they were in love or even going to see each other again. Oliver didn't do seconds. It just wasn't his style.

"No," Percy admitted. He was never busy on Friday nights. It was the night when he actually cooked for himself; usually pasta or some kind of fowl, something easy. He spent his nights off reading. He had no friends. "No," he repeated, "I'm not busy."

"Excellent," Oliver said, pulling out some of the fascinating Muggle paper money. Percy followed suit and counted out the money, giving the bartender exact change for his two drinks.

"So..." Percy began nervously, "what does this... de-stressing... entail?"

"Can't really tell you," Oliver said, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Let's go to mine; we can get you de-stressed there." He didn't think that Percy would want anyone over if he hadn't had a chance to perfectly order all of his things and make his flat spotless, so Oliver had offered his. Didn't matter to him, really, what state his flat was in when people came over. He wouldn't be seeing them again, so he didn't care.

Percy nodded. He was nervous, and perhaps rightly so. He was going home with someone whom he had found attractive since school. He hadn't ever been picked up at a bar; he had never been to a bar, for that matter. He'd only dated Penelope in school, but after graduation, they went their separate ways. Percy had thought it was all for the best; he had never really had much interest in the girl. However, he had dated her because he thought it was the right thing to do; boys dated girls. That was just the way it was.

Now he was questioning that. Did boys really just date girls, or could boys date boys as well?

Oliver began walking out of the pub, checking behind him to see if Percy was following. "Oi, Percy, coming?" he called back. Oliver, too, was slightly nervous about this. He didn't know why; he was always confident whenever he brought someone to his flat. He was always self-assured; this never happened to him. Don't worry about it, he told himself. It'll be fine. As he walked, he began thinking of ways to help his former roommate de-stress. Almost immediately, he had a plan.


They reached Oliver's flat in record time. Idle chatter had been the only thing they could come up with, not having seen each other for so long, and not having spent much time with each other, oddly enough, when they had been in school.

"C'mon in," Oliver said, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "It's not much, but it's home." He toed off his shoes and walked barefoot into the kitchen, where he pulled out two glasses from the cupboard. "Anything to drink?" he called.

"Just water, please," Percy said, even more nervous than before. He followed Oliver into the kitchen, looking around. It was nice; much more homey than his own flat. His flat was sterile and uninviting. Never had to invite anyone, though, he thought as he took the glass of water from Oliver. "Thanks," he said before taking a sip. He had a foul aftertaste of beer in his mouth and he wanted to get rid of it. "You have a nice flat," he said honestly, giving Oliver a rare sincere smile.

Oliver smiled. "Thanks," he said. "I like it." He paused. "Go on and take a seat in the living room; make yourself at home," he said. "I'll be in in just a second; I want to get myself a glass of water."

Percy obeyed, leaving the kitchen and sitting on the soft couch in the middle of Oliver's living room. He kept his shoes on, and continued to sit rigidly.

Oliver did pour himself a glass of water, but he only took a few sips, and then removed his shirt. He usually walked around his flat naked, but he thought that he would start slowly, seeing as Percy hadn't seen him naked in years, and it could frighten him off. Don't want to do that, he thought, grinning.

Oliver walked into the living room and stood behind Percy, putting his Quidditch-roughened hands on the other man's shoulders. "You're tense," Oliver said matter-of-factly. "Percy, have you ever had a back massage?" As he asked, his hands began to gently massage the other man's shoulders.

Percy could have sworn that he felt his heart stop for a just a second when Oliver touched him. "No," he said, his tone wavering a bit, "I haven't." But I want you to give me one, he thought urgently.

"Well, then," Oliver said, smirking, "we'll just have to fix that first." Percy's a smart boy, he thought. He should pick up on that.

Yes, Percy had picked up on it. First? he wondered. What could possibly come next?


Oliver massaged Percy's shoulders in silence for a few moments, his hands getting caught up in Percy's shirt more than once. It would be much easier if I just removed this, he thought, reaching around Percy's front and undoing his tie one-handed. It was obvious that he had done it before. The same hand began to unbutton Percy's shirt. Slow down, Wood, he told himself. Don't frighten the poor boy off.

Percy was far from frightened; his breath was becoming shallow and his heart rate was rapidly increasing. If this was de-stressing, he would have to do it more often. He felt Oliver unbuttoning the final few buttons on his shirt, and, without thinking, he shrugged his own shirt from his shoulders. He was immediately uncomfortable. He was not bare-chested in front of anyone. When he showered, he toweled off and dressed immediately. He didn't feel comfortable being undressed; he thought he was scrawny and awkward.

Oliver didn't think so. When Percy shrugged off his shirt, Oliver saw slightly defined muscles in the other man's stomach, and beginnings of biceps. "How does this feel, Perce?" Oliver asked, hoping for a positive response.

"Good," Percy replied, closing his eyes. This was better than good; it was amazing, and he never wanted it to stop.

"Good," Oliver said. "I only want to please you." His word choice was intentional. He was the king of double entendres, especially in situations such as these. He found a particularly nasty knot on Percy's left shoulder; it was about the size and shape of a large portobello mushroom. It was one of the worst Oliver had found when giving massages, which were less frequent than one might think. He wasn't one for foreplay; he preferred to satisfy his desires immediately.

Percy gasped when Oliver began putting pressure on the knot on his shoulder. That hurt quite a bit. He hadn't known a back massage could be so painful. However, moments later, his shoulder was beginning to feel much better, and, as Oliver put a bit more pressure on the knot, he let out an involuntary noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a moan. This was bloody amazing.

Oliver heard the sound, and it went straight to his nether regions. Somehow, he had never thought that he would hear uptight Percy Weasley make that sound from something he, Oliver Wood, was doing. He liked it, and he wanted to keep hearing those noises.

Percy didn't seem to be able to stop making those noises, now that the pain had passed and it simply felt amazing. The noises began to get a bit louder, and he felt himself becoming more relaxed, except for a certain part of his body that was becoming a bit more alert. He could certainly get used to this.

"Percy," Oliver said, "do you know how sexy you can be when you think no one's looking?"

Percy flushed. That certainly was not true. He, Percy I Weasley, was not sexy. He never had been, and he never would be. That just wasn't the way things were. "No," Percy said, shaking his head, "I'm not. You're..." He let out another low moan-sigh type sound as Oliver hit a spot that really needed work. "You're...much more attractive than I am."

"I'm not more attractive," Oliver said, grinning. "It's just that I know I'm attractive. You, on the other hand, don't, which makes you even sexier." It was time for him to do something. This back massage was amazing, even just for Oliver, but it wasn't enough. There needed to be something else, and it needed to happen now.
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