Chapter Text
Marcus stopped antagonizing Oliver once practice started up. He didn’t have the time or the energy to pour into crafting new methods of annoying his sexy roommate-enemy. Because of this, the pair of them fell into a comfortable, though cool, rhythm. They ate dinner together at opposite ends of the kitchen table, generally with Oliver’s sh*tty jazz playing quietly in the background. Oliver would go to bed early, and Marcus would stay up for a few hours, usually watching tv or flipping through cheap magazines from the corner shop down the block. They didn’t interact at practice and they didn’t hang out outside of the flat unless they absolutely had to. Marcus much preferred their original dynamic. He was starting to grow antsy.
One Friday night, after their first week of practice, Adrian invited Marcus to a party. Marcus, desperate for a change of scenery, accepted immediately. He’d met Adrian at his place before and then they side-alonged to the location, which was one of the last places Marcus had expected to pop up at.
“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” Marcus asked, staring at the joke shop before him. It was well after closing time, and the streets of Diagon were empty aside from a few pub patrons or shop owners heading home for the night. The giant ginger head waving a top hat stared ominously down at them, frozen and lifeless. It was quite unsettling after hours. He tore his eyes away from it. “Why the f*ck are we here?”
“George lives above the shop. The twins are having a party,” Adrian explained.
“You brought me to a Weasley party?” Marcus asked, looking at the younger man as though he were crazy. “I reckon I’m the last person they want at their place.”
Adrian waved dismissively. “Nah, they don’t care. They know we’re close. Plus Albie’ll be there. He put in a good word for you.”
“Albie’s here?”
Adrian nodded. “He’s here with Charlie. The twins are celebrating their ten year anniversary of the joke shop. They’re throwing a whole gala thing.”
“A gala for a joke shop?” Marcus asked, furrowing his brow.
“They’ll take any excuse to celebrate,” Pucey said with a shrug. “Let’s go, I need a drink after this week.”
Marcus grunted in agreement and followed Adrian. They made their way around the back of the shop and through a door that was tucked away from the busy high street. Adrian led them up a set of steep, narrow stairs and then finally reached the door to the flat. Adrian didn’t even knock. He just threw the door open and walked inside.
“Party’s here!” he hollered as he stepped in, and Marcus followed awkwardly behind him. A group of people cheered excitedly at the sound of Adrian’s voice from somewhere further inside The lights were dimmed and the music was loud as Adrian pulled him down the hall to the kitchen, which was full of people. He recognized a few faces. The twins were there, of course, and Albie and Charlie. Albie’s sister, Ruby, was there as well. Even Percy was there, standing as far from the group as possible and observing as they all laughed and talked animatedly. It had been a very long time since Marcus had last felt so… ill equipped. His only interactions with the majority of the attendees had been cold at best and downright hostile at worst. Nobody looked surprised to see him, though. At least, aside from Percy, who seemed to have braced himself at Marcus’s entrance.
“You can relax, Poncey. I’m not going to hex you or anything,” said Marcus, raising a brow at the very tense man.
Percy rolled his eyes. “Actually, I was just leaving. I’ve got some things to wrap up for work.” And with that, he he turned to leave, head ducked as he attempted to Irish exit.
“See you later, Percy!” Marcus called out loudly, gathering the attention of the rest of the group. “Lovely seeing you!”
At his declaration, Percy was swarmed by Weasley and Co. His face turned red and he shot Marcus a nasty glare as he tried to fight off his friends and family begging him to stay or bidding him goodnight. Marcus snigg*red to himself and accepted a very full cup of something brown and suspicious from Adrian.
“What is this?” he asked, eyeing the concoction warily and holding it very far from his nose.
Adrian shrugged. “Lee made it.”
Lee, who Marcus recognized as the infamous Quidditch commentator from his time at school, sidled up next to Adrian with a cup of his own. “It’s whisky and stuff. It’s my grandfather’s recipe.”
Marcus took a sip. It burned terribly going down, making him shiver with discomfort. “It’s f*cking terrible.”
“Mm. My grandfather had terrible taste,” Lee mused, taking a very hesitant sip from his own drink. He gritted his teeth after swallowing. “But, he knew how to get you drunk fast.”
Drunk fast was exactly what Marcus needed in that moment. So, he took a large gulp, choking back a gag. A loud burst of laughter cut through the air from the opposite end of the room. He turned to Adrian, frowning at him. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because these people are nice and you’ll have fun,” Adrian said.
“We are very nice and fun,” Lee supplied helpfully. Marcus raised a skeptical brow at him.
“You need to have some fun, Mars. When’s the last time you did something fun?” Fun was starting to sound like a made up word. He opened his mouth to respond, but Adrian cut him off. “Terrorizing Wood doesn’t count.” Marcus closed his mouth.
“Wood? As in Oliver?” Lee asked, furrowing his brow. Adrian nodded on his behalf. “You’re terrorizing him?”
“I’m not terrorizing him,” said Marcus, rolling his eyes, but Lee was not paying attention.
“Hey, Fred! Flint’s terrorizing Wood!” he called across the kitchen, waving one of the many redheads in the room over. Said redhead, apparently Fred (though it was hard to tell as three of them had virtually the same face), beamed excitedly and made a beeline for Marcus.
“After all this time?” Fred asked excitedly. Marcus furrowed his brow. “I mean, back in school, Oliver wouldn’t shut up about you. I would’ve respected it had it not resulted in him taking his frustrations out on me.”
Marcus preened. Oliver used to talk about him? “I was much worse back then,” he said. “Really, I’m just teasing him now. He’s so easy to work up.”
Adrian frowned. “Not really. He’s typically very level-headed. It scares me sometimes, to be honest.”
Fred scoffed. “He absolutely is not!”
Albie squeezed his way into the group to join the conversation. “This is a dangerous group. What are we talking about over here?”
“How Freddie and Mars send Oliver spiraling,” said Lee. Marcus side-eyed him, unsure of how he felt about the use of his nickname.
“He’s normally so calm and collected, right?” Adrian asked Albie, who nodded.
“That’s a load of sh*t. He was always about three seconds from throttling me during practice,” Fred said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Because you were so obviously in love with his girlfriend,” Albie said. “It’s a wonder he wasn’t worse to you.”
Fred smirked. “Yeah, well, we all know how that one worked out.” He glanced over to Ruby and gave her a cheeky wink. She blushed profusely, earning her an eye roll from her brother. She was sitting on the countertop, chatting with Charlie and two other girls, Angelina Johnson and Farrah Burke. He remembered Angelina from Quidditch. At the time, he’d hated her on premise. But as an adult, he could say she was objectively a very good player, and he found her quite scary. He remembered Farrah because Colm had been convinced she was queer. Marcus had yet to confirm that theory, though her nose piercing and very specific manicure led him to believe Colm had been correct.
Marcus ground his teeth together. He had to stop thinking about Colm. He chugged his eye watering concoction, coughing and spluttering as he drained the cup. Albie raised a brow at him.
“Damn, Flint. Are you that displeased with our company?” he asked, giving Marcus a lopsided grin.
Feeling emboldened by the liquor and Albie’s intoxicatingly charming aura, Marcus smirked back at him. “I haven’t decided yet.” He pressed the empty cup against Lee’s chest, who took it from him to refill. “Why don’t you show me a good time, Podmore, and we’ll see how I’m feeling at the end of the night?”
Albie barked a laugh. “I’ll show you a good time, alright. JOHNSON!” She snapped her head to Albie, her braids swinging around and whipping George, an innocent bystander. “Get the cardboard!” Angelina saluted him and disappeared from the kitchen. Marcus furrowed his brow at Albie, who winked at him. It was Marcus’s turn to blush. He glanced away, accidentally locking eyes with Charlie, who seemed to be sizing him up.
“So it’s gonna turn into one of those nights,” Lee said with a cheshire grin, handing Marcus his now-full cup back.
Next to him, Adrian groaned. “I can’t afford one of those nights. Last time, I got stuck in the floo on my way home. Some shop owner found me half in his fireplace in the morning.”
“Perhaps you could avoid that problem by not drinking gin straight from the bottle with a straw,” Ruby suggested wisely. Marcus grimaced at Adrian, who shrugged sheepishly.
“Or,” said Fred, “you could just be better at handling your liquor.”
“Maybe I’ll just spend the night on the couch,” Adrian muttered, apparently unsatisfied with either of their suggestions.
***
Later in the night, the group was good and drunk, all seated on the floor in a circle around the cardboard Albie had called for earlier on. It started off as a blank, unassuming piece of a box, but was now covered in scribbled names and barely coherent demands. They all took turns flipping a coin onto the cardboard. Marcus had never been good at drinking games. He preferred to just drink. But this hadn’t been so bad. He just flipped his coin and did whatever everyone told him to do. For his first turn, his coin landed on Angelina’s name, so she had to drink. She complained sarcastically while downing half of her cup. Then next time around, it landed on a dare. So, he found himself kneeling over Ruby, who was laid out on her back on the ground as Adrian poured whiskey into her belly button. She shivered as the liquid hit her skin.
“This rule sucks. I don’t understand why you had to specify me,” Ruby grumbled at Lee.
“You have the best belly button for doing shots out of,” he said as though it were obvious.
She huffed. “Make sure you get it all, Flint. I’d rather not be sticky all night.”
“That’s not what you were saying-” Fred started to say, but he was cut off with a sharp jab to the gut from Albie. He grunted in pain, hunching over.
“Get this over with, Flint. I don’t love what’s happening here,” Albie said, frowning down at Ruby, who was waiting patiently with her t-shirt rolled up and her jeans unbuttoned and folded down.
“Me neither,” said Fred, his voice strained as he rubbed his stomach.
Marcus rolled his eyes. “You two can calm down. I’m not interested.”
Fred bristled, sitting up straight and puffing his chest. “Why not?”
“Because I’m f*cking gay,” Marcus sneered. “Relax Weasley, I’m not trying to neg your girlfriend.”
Ruby burst into laughter, sending the whisky spilling all over her stomach. Fred scowled at Marcus, who responded by sucking the remaining liquor out of his girlfriend’s belly button and lapping up the rest that had run across her skin, all the way to the hem of her shirt and down to the waistline of her jeans. She yelped in surprise, still laughing heartily. When Marcus righted himself again, he licked some residual liquor from his lip and gave Fred what he hoped was an infuriating smirk.
Fred glared back at him. “Strike that rule from the cardboard, Lee!” he demanded, his face bright red.
Lee raised a brow at him. “We’ll have to bring it to the council. You know what happens if your request is denied,” he said very seriously.
Marcus sent a confused glance over to Adrian, who looked completely engrossed. “What the f*ck is going on?” he whispered. “Are you in a cult or something?”
Adrian just shushed Marcus.
“I know what happens,” Fred said bitterly.
“Fine,” said Lee. “Fred, make your case for the removal of the rule.”
“Well, it’s disrespectful to Ruby, isn’t it?” he said, glancing over at Ruby. She rolled her eyes dramatically. “She didn’t ask for this!”
“Council, who votes that we strike the rule from the cardboard?” Lee asked the group at large. Fred raised his hand, as did Albie. After an elbow from Albie, Charlie raised a reluctant hand as well. Fred glanced over at Ruby, who folded her arms across her chest defiantly. Lee looked around at the rest of the group, but nobody else voted.
“Rube,” Fred whined.
“I changed my mind,” she said. “I don’t think this rule sucks.”
Marcus laughed, and Fred shoved him. It seemed like everyone in the room froze, but Marcus didn’t care. He was in a surprisingly good mood. The alcohol had smoothed his rough edges, and being away from Wood for a few hours had allowed him to unclench. Perhaps Adrian had been onto something in bringing him here.
“The council has spoken,” Lee said with great authority. “The rule stays. You know the punishment.”
Fred groaned and threw his head back. “Yes, I know. Give it to me.”
Marcus’s eyes widened as Lee began untying his shoe. He watched in horror as he then poured a little of his drink into the trainer. Then he passed it to Angelina, who poured some in as well, and then it went around the rest of the circle. Eventually it made its way to Marcus. He hesitated for a moment, frowning down at the shoe, which was now full of various drinks and leaking unpleasantly. Marcus looked over at Fred, who had resigned to his fate. Feeling uncharacteristically generous, he poured in a minuscule amount before passing it along to Ruby, who poured in nearly half her drink. She handed Fred the shoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“I love you, but you deserve it,” she said, and Fred sighed. He took a deep breath, and she placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder. And then he drank the shoe drink.
“Sweet Salazar,” Marcus breathed as Fred downed the horrific mixture in seconds.
“He does this every time,” Adrian said, clearly exasperated. “Lee makes some rule where someone has to kiss Ruby or something, and Fred gets pissed off every time and does the council thing. He’s only won once. I’m starting to think it’s a sexual thing for them.”
Marcus snorted. When the shoe was empty, Fred tossed it across the room and lunged at Ruby, kissing her theatrically. She squealed as they toppled over backwards.
“Mm. Definitely a sex thing,” Marcus said, watching as Ruby grinned against Fred’s lips. That looked… nice. He realized with a start that he was smiling at their display. He immediately schooled his expression into a cool, uninterested stare.
Was he feeling wistful? Surely f*cking not. Lee must’ve dosed him with some soppy potion that makes you nice. That was the only explanation.
After a few more rounds, Marcus was drunker than he’d been in a long time. The more they drank, the smaller the circle got. Fred and Ruby were the first to sneak away, scurrying to bed while Albie was in the bathroom. George was next, stumbling back to the kitchen for snacks and never returning. Adrian, according to Albie, had fallen asleep in the bathtub. Marcus had just finished his drink and was contemplating going home when Albie flicked the coin lazily onto the board. It landed with a dull slapping sound directly in the middle. He leaned in to read it, wobbling slightly.
“Lick chocolate off the player of your choice,” Albie said. Lee, who’d been drinking the chocolate syrup straight from the bottle since it had been brought out, tossed it to Albie. He turned to Marcus, wearing a dangerous grin.
“No,” Marcus said.
“Why not?” Albie asked.
“Why me?”
“Because I want to,” Albie said matter-of-factly. “What’s the problem, Flint? You nervous or something?”
Marcus scoffed. He reached for the bottle of chocolate, but Albie yanked it back, just out of his reach. “No, no,” he teased. He nodded at Charlie. “He decides where it goes.”
Marcus glanced over at Charlie. “Really?” Charlie asked, and Albie threw him the bottle.
“I reckon it could be fun.”
“Alright, then,” said Marcus, and he began unbuttoning his shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lee and Angelina watching the scene play out. Both were wide eyed with anticipation, and Angelina gripped Lee’s knee tightly. When they realized they’d been caught watching, they looked away quickly, stifling giggles.
Marcus pulled off his shirt, draping it over the arm of the couch behind him. “Have at me, then,” he said, laying back on the ground, folding his arms behind his head. Charlie scooted over so he was kneeling over him. He placed a contemplative hand on his chin as he sized up Marcus. Then, he got to work drizzling the sticky sauce all over Marcus’s chest.
“Are you drawing a knob?” Marcus asked, and Charlie barked a laugh. He strained to look down at his torso and saw that Charlie was, indeed, drawing a massive dick on him.
“It’s all I know how to draw,” Charlie said sheepishly. He kept drizzling and Marcus cringed as the sauce started dripping down his sides, into his armpits and down his back. He did not love the feeling, but when Charlie dragged his finger through the chocolate and drew an arrow that led right to the waistband of Marcus’s pants, he didn’t care anymore.
Charlie sat back to admire his work. Marcus was truly covered. Angelina leaned over to get a good look as well, and she stuck her finger in the chocolate and drew a little heart on Marcus’s chest.
“Stunning,” she said.
“Merlin, Charlie, that’s a lot,” Albie said, his eyes wide as he looked down at Marcus.
“Better get to work,” Charlie said with a shrug.
Albie did just that. He started in the middle, just above Marcus’s belly button, and worked his way up. Marcus had to bite back a moan as he ran his tongue up his neck, stopping just under his ear. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists together as Albie worked his way back down, all the way to his waistband. When Albie sank his teeth into Marcus’s hip, he sucked in a sharp breath. His brain turned to mush when he felt another set of lips press themselves to his collarbone.
“f*ck,” Marcus muttered. He opened his eyes. Podmore and Weasley were latched to him now, and he was coming undone quickly. He caught a glimpse of Angelina and Lee scurrying out of the room, grinning broadly. He felt a hand on his thigh. “f*ck. You need to stop if you don’t want this to get out of hand.”
“Too late for that,” Albie muttered against his lower abdomen. Then he felt the hand on his thigh move to the buttons of his trousers, and someone was kissing him softly on the lips. Then Charlie and Albie were kissing each other, and then Albie was pulling his trousers off, and then they were all naked, and somehow Marcus ended up sandwiched between them… It was a wonderful, blissful blur of bodies. By the time they were too exhausted to continue, Marcus had finished twice and they were all covered in chocolate and bodily fluids.
Afterwards, they laid on their backs on the floor, talking in hushed tones about whatever came to mind. Embarrassingly, Marcus kept bringing up Oliver. He hadn’t expected his teenage crush to return in full force the way it had, but he had it bad. He gushed about his new roommate to Albie and Charlie until they fell asleep. Then, desperate for a soft bed and a shower, Marcus snuck out and made his way back to the flat.
***
He wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to get home in the state he was in. Honestly, he wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to have a threesome in the state that he was in, but he was happy it had worked out regardless. The next thing he knew, he was halfway up the stairs on his hands and knees, gaping up at Oliver. Who was shirtless. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t form a coherent thought.
“What the f*ck are you doing?” Oliver’s voice was deep and scratchy. It made Marcus’s stomach do a flip. Merlin, he was so hot.
“Going to bed,” he replied. He thought that much was obvious.
“Why are you crawling up the stairs like an overgrown toddler?”
Marcus glanced around the flat. “Dark. Can’t see.”
“Surely there’s a better solution to that.” Oliver folded his arms over his chest and leaned against his doorframe. It was extremely sexy. “This is hard to watch.”
Marcus worried if he spoke, he would say something completely idiotic. So, he remained silent, at least until he nearly went bowling down the stairs after finally reaching the top. Oliver caught him by the arm, gripping him tightly and yanking him away from the stairs. “Thanks,” he muttered. He wanted Oliver to keep holding him like that.
“You must be really drunk,” Oliver said, staring at him wide-eyed.
“M’fine,” said Marcus, but he wobbled when he tried to take another step. Oliver rested a hand on his lower back. Perhaps he should get drunk with Pucey and the Weasleys more often. This night just kept getting better and better.
Oliver directed Marcus to his room, where he collapsed onto his bed. He attempted to discreetly shove Tad under a pillow while Oliver busied himself with the lights.
Marcus squinted as the room lit up, fumbling with his belt (which had gotten sticky from the night's events). “Help,” he mumbled, pouting up at Oliver.
Oliver shook his head at Marcus in exasperation. “Merlin. What the f*ck were you drinking? What are you covered in?”
“Whiskey,” he replied. “Chocolate.” He held his breath as Oliver leaned over and began fiddling with his belt. He tried not to stare while Oliver yanked the belt from his trousers with great difficulty, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted this image burned into his brain forever. When his belt was off, he kicked off his trousers, nearly falling off the bed in the process.
“Who let you get this drunk?” Oliver asked, and he sighed as he helped Marcus out of his shirt.
“Pucey. The clones. Podmore,” he listed off, collapsing back onto his pillow.
“Albie’s around?” Oliver asked. Marcus noted he couldn’t quite look him in the eye- he seemed to be focused on the chocolatey mess that was his torso.
Marcus nodded. “He came to visit with the dragon brother. Your pal was there too. You know, the nerdy brother. Reckon he’s the only person more uptight than you.” There were too many Weasleys to keep straight. Especially in the state that he was currently in.
“I didn’t realize you were so close with the Weasleys.”
“M’not. Pucey’s my friend and they seem to have taken him in like a stray, so now I have to deal with them,” Marcus said, reaching down to pull off his socks. Once again, he narrowly avoided tumbling off the side of the bed. “There are too many of them. They aren’t so bad now that we’re out of school, though. Did you know Podmore and the dragon one are f*cking?”
“Really?” Oliver asked. He got quiet for a moment, his eyes unfocused and his cheeks growing pink. Interesting. “How’d you find that out?”
“It’s obvious when you know what to look for,” Marcus said with a shrug. Things to look out for- they have sex with each other in front of you.
“You know what to-” Marcus reached for the waistband of his pants and began attempting to pull them off- “What the f*ck are you doing?” Oliver whipped his head away from Marcus, shielding his eyes with his hand.
“I sleep naked,” Marcus replied. Duh.
“Right. Goodnight.” Oliver rushed out of the room, leaving the light on and the door wide open.
“The light!” Marcus moaned, only to hear Oliver’s bedroom door slam shut. He smirked to himself, stumbling out of bed to close the door and turn off the light.
Marcus deemed the hangover worth it when he eventually made his way down to the kitchen the next day and saw the remnants of Oliver’s protein shake in the sink. Chocolate.
***
At first, Marcus thought his sloppy return after his drunken night out had pushed him and Oliver in the right direction. They’d chatted a few times the day after and things hadn’t ended in name-calling or physical blows. Practices were going well, and he was quickly learning that he and Wood were a lot more similar than he’d originally thought. At least, in terms of Quidditch. Marcus had even started to delude himself that maybe, maybe, Oliver fancied him. But, for seemingly no reason, Oliver suddenly started pulling away from Marcus. He cut conversations short, he started getting up earlier and going out more, and he even started avoiding Marcus at practice again. It was frustrating. Marcus tried to pretend it didn’t bother him at first, but the more Oliver pulled away, the harder he tried to regain his attention in whatever way he could. Marcus’s methods got progressively more provocative as he grew more annoyed, and eventually, something had to give.
After a week of being ignored, Marcus was in a foul mood. When he arrived at practice, he decided to give one last shot at speaking to Oliver. He approached him in the locker room, but Oliver saw him coming. He turned and walked away before Marcus could even say anything. Marcus obviously did not take this well. Things only escalated during their scrimmage, where Oliver seemed distracted. He let in two of Marcus’s shots, which was a rarity. When he got the opportunity to score again, Marcus hurled the quaffle directly at Oliver, who snapped out of it immediately.
The whistle was blown, words were exchanged, and before Marcus knew it, he was spitting out his tooth after getting punched in the face by Oliver. He left with his tail between his legs. Of course Wood would be the one to drive him to fighting after keeping it together for months. He went straight to St Mungo’s, trailing blood through the lobby as a horrified receptionist rushed him into a private exam room. She shoved a stack of towels at him and hurried back out the door, shutting it behind her and leaving him in silence.
Not for long, though, as there was a knock at the door a moment later. Marcus grunted loudly, hoping the healer would take that as permission to enter. He couldn’t speak without spitting up blood.
The door burst open and in came Claire, looking exasperated. “You were doing so well,” she sighed, grimacing at the state of him. The healer followed just behind her, and Marcus threw his head back in disbelief. Ruby Podmore, of all people.
“Aw, lovely to see you too, Flint,” she said sarcastically when she saw the horrified look on his face. “Here. Before we do anything, spit.” She handed him a full cup and pointed to the sink next to him. He did so, wrinkling his nose at the familiar taste of the salt water solution. Then, he spat the bloody mixture into the sink.
“What happened?” asked Claire, taking a seat in one of the little brown chairs in the corner of the room.
“I got into a fight,” he muttered, and Claire rolled her eyes.
“Obviously,” she said. “But why? You were on a roll.”
“Wood,” he said, unable to meet Ruby’s eyes. It was horribly embarrassing being treated by the sister of the man you just had a threesome with who also happened to be the ex-girlfriend of the man you were currently yearning for.
Ruby snigg*red. “You were always very good at getting under his skin,” she said. “Is he in here somewhere?”
Marcus shook his head. “I went easy on him. He, er… He was really upset.”
“What did you do to him?” Claire asked. “I thought things were going well.”
“They were fine,” Marcus said, sighing. He paused while Ruby fixed the split in his lip and the throbbing bruise on his cheek. “He just… stopped talking to me all the sudden. I don’t know why. And it pissed me off.”
“Mm, he’s not the most forthcoming with his emotions,” said Ruby, digging around in the cabinets for something. She pulled out a small bottle shaped like a spine, and Marcus groaned. He hated Skele Gro. She poured a tiny amount into a cup and handed it to him. “You have to be the one to initiate the conversation. Force it out of him. Otherwise, he’ll just stew.”
“Sounds familiar,” said Claire, giving Marcus a look. He rolled his eyes.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” he grumbled, then took the potion. He winced as he felt the unpleasant sensation of a new tooth growing rapidly in place of the one he’d lost.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Ruby said, folding her arms over her chest and eyeing Marcus. “He’s clearly upset about something. Fred said that Percy told him that Oliver wouldn’t shut up about you for the first few weeks that you moved in, but then, he just stopped all of the sudden. He would get mad whenever someone asked about you.”
“Did you do something?” Claire asked, and Marcus shrugged.
“Things seemed pretty good, but he started acting cold towards me after that party I went to at George’s place,” he said. “He was nice when I came home and for a day or so after, but… things changed after that.”
“You think he’s jealous that you’re going out and having fun or something?” Claire suggested, but Ruby shook her head.
“Nah, he’s not like that,” she said. She was thoughtful for a moment. “Does he know about your little private party with my brother and Charlie?”
Marcus blanched. “Why do you know about that?”
Ruby burst into laughter. “Albie told Fred first thing in the morning to piss him off. He was still a little sore from the body shot incident and Albie was sick of him complaining.” She gestured for Marcus to open his mouth, and he did. She peeked in at the tooth. “Maybe Oliver’s jealous.”
He jerked back in surprise. “Why would he be jealous? He’s straight,” Marcus said, shaking his head.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Ruby said with a shrug. “His obsession with you is not just normal hatred. I reckon he’s jealous.”
Marcus’s heart sank. He felt horribly guilty. Sure, he’d caught Oliver looking at him before, but he hadn’t imagined he might actually be interested. “f*ck. I’m an arsehole.”
“This is news to you?” Claire asked, raising a brow at him. He rolled his eyes.
“You’re not helping, you know,” he said, sneering at her.
“You should talk to him,” Ruby suggested. “You clearly have strong feelings for him.”
“I wouldn’t say clearly-”
“Well, I would,” Ruby said. “He clearly has strong feelings about you.”
***
Marcus did not return back to the flat straight from St Mungo’s. He stopped by Adrian’s for a bit to complain about his feelings there, only to get the same advice that he’d gotten from Ruby. Talk to him. Not what he wanted to hear. He finally made his way back home much later and was surprised to find Oliver on the couch. He sat up as Marcus walked in, blinking sleepily at him.
“What are you doing down here this late?” Marcus asked as he kicked off his shoes.
“Fell asleep.” His face was still bruised from their fight and he could barely keep his eyes open. He’d clearly had a few drinks, too, based on his slurred speech. “Where’d you go?”
“Out,” Marcus replied simply. He narrowed his eyes at Oliver. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Some,” he said petulantly, making Marcus roll his eyes.
“Merlin. You look like sh*t,” he said, then he sighed and gestured at the stairs. “Come on, let me fix your face for you so you don’t wake up with a pounding headache.”
“M’fine,” Oliver grumbled. He clearly was not.
“No, you’re not. Come on.” Marcus yanked Oliver to his feet by the back of his shirt and began dragging him up the stairs.
“Least I can walk up the stairs when I’m drunk, unlike some people,” Oliver said snarkily. Marcus was pretty sure that was an attempt at teasing.
‘Yes, you’re very coordinated, you dickhe*d. Now move.” He steered Oliver into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet. He turned the light on and pulled out his wand, ready to assess the situation, but Wood couldn’t meet his eye. “I need you to look at me if you want me to do this.”
Oliver kept staring down at this lap.
Marcus sighed and took Wood’s jaw in his hand, studying his stupid, handsome face. “I definitely didn’t break anything. I didn’t hit you hard enough. Unlike you. You knocked out one of my teeth.”
Oliver only grunted in response.“What do you know about healing?”
“I got sick of going to the emergency ward every time I got into a fight,” he explained. “I learned some of the basics myself. Fixing cuts, bruises, small bone breaks. I can’t f*cking regrow teeth, though, so thanks for that. I had to go to A&E and get Skele Gro. It tastes disgusting.”
“Welcome,” Oliver muttered, and Marcus laughed.
“Alright. Stay still, drunky. I don’t want you to wobble and I accidentally hit you in the eye. Last thing we need is a half-blind keeper.”
Oliver stayed mostly still, swaying back and forth slightly as Marcus ran his wand over the damage. He felt Oliver shiver in his grip and he let out a soft moan that made Marcus’s heart race. He finally looked up, meeting Marcus’s eyes for the first time. Oliver had what many would describe as kind eyes. They were wide and rimmed with thick lashes, and he had little wrinkles at the corners that Marcus found painfully adorable. He stood there, frozen in Oliver’s gaze, unable to breathe. When he realized he was still holding the man’s face, he let his hand fall, his fingers brushing against the warm skin of Oliver’s neck on the way down. Oliver inhaled sharply and stood, still staring at Marcus as he got up. They were only inches from each other. Marcus felt like he might throw up. When Oliver tilted his head to the side and began inching closer, it was too much for him.
“You’re wasted, Wood,” Marcus said. He backed away from Oliver, desperate to diffuse some of the tension. He liked Oliver. He probably loved Oliver, actually. He was thrilled that he seemed to be interested in him. But Oliver was drunk and clearly confused. “You should get to bed.”
Oliver furrowed his brow. “I’m not-”
Marcus scurried out of the room before Oliver could finish his sentence, making a beeline for his bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. He threw himself into his bed, pulling Tad to his chest and exhaling heavily.
What a f*cking day.
