FIC: Follow You Home
Title: Follow You Home
Author: freakingcrups
Gift For: curiouslyfic
Summary: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood - It's Christmas Eve and Oliver is at a bar drinking. He meets someone he hasn't seen in a very long time.
Prompt: N/A
Rating: PG
Warning/s: Kissing? Maybe a tiny bit of angst?
Notes: Merry Christmas, Curi dear.
Follow You Home
Oliver tipped his head back, downing the glass of firewhiskey, and grimaced at the burning sensation. He slammed it back on the bar and raised his finger, signalling the bartender to get him another drink. The bartender nodded with a sympathetic look and pulled out the bottle of firewhiskey, topping the small glass back up.
"You okay, my friend?" The bartender asked. His large brown eyes glanced around the empty bar. "It's Christmas Eve, you know? Getting late."
"Is this your way of kicking me out?" Oliver muttered, downing the firewhiskey again and holding the glass out to the bartender.
The old man snorted. "No. Got nothing to go 'ome to either, boy."
"Who says I don't have anyone to go home to?" Oliver asked quietly. He grimaced when the bartender gave him a long look.
"Not 'ard to see. I've been working 'ere for forty-five years. Seen forty-five Christmases 'ere too. It ain't 'ard to spot the lonely ones." He raised a brow.
When the door opened and closed, the old man looked up, a large, toothless smile slipping onto his face. "Boy! 'Bout time you got 'ere."
"Sorry, Roger, I was caught in that damn carolling crowd."
Oliver didn't turn to see who it was. It didn't really matter. He stared in front of him, dazing in and out of his surroundings. He didn't hear much of the conversation between the newcomer and the old man, but he did hear snippets regarding 'what needed to be done around the bar tonight.' The old man slapped Oliver on the back.
"Gotta be off now, boy. You 'ave a good night now." The old man smiled at him before he limped out of the bar and closed the door behind him.
"Wood?"
Oliver glanced up at the newcomer and groaned at the very familiar man in front of him. "Flint," he greeted.
Flint smirked. "Here on Christmas Eve, huh?" He made his way around the bar and slipped an apron over his head. Reaching behind, he tied a knot in the strings. "No family?"
"What is it with you bartenders and not minding your own business?" Oliver grumbled. He held out his glass to Flint and the other man took the hint.
"What are you having?"
"Firewhiskey."
Flint snorted. "Of course, the strong stuff." He poured Oliver another glass and slid it back to him. "Saw your save in the papers in your last game of the season. Good save."
Oliver grunted. "Go on then, make fun of me for losing."
Flint smirked. "Wasn't going to, Wood." He grabbed a cloth and ran it over the bar. "You're got a good team, but the Wasps were better this year. You couldn't have known the trick they were going to pull with Potter as seeker."
Oliver waved his hand impatiently. "I should have seen it coming. Now, I might not be in a team next season." He tipped his head back and downed the drink.
"Wood, you aren't a bloody seer. You're a captain and a good captain at that. Puddlemere should be kissing your shoes." Before Oliver could ask for another drink, Flint had already set one down.
"You defending me?" Oliver asked in amusement.
"Maybe." Flint raised an eyebrow and snickered. "Don't look so surprised."
"Well excuse me," Oliver gaped at him, "but I remember a certain Slytherin captain who kept trying to get his team members to bludger me."
"Just 'cause you were good. If we had you outta the way, we'd have no problem getting to the hoops."
Oliver chuckled. He nodded - he could respect that, even if the bastard cheated while trying to do it. "You work in a bar now, huh?"
Flint's half smile faltered and he nodded slowly. "Yeah." He went back to wiping the bar top.
"How did that happen then?" He swirled the alcohol in his glass, watching it whirl in his glass.
Flint snorted. "Life. Life kicked me in the arse. My so called dad lost everything, thanks to investing in You Know Who's little projects. Lost our house and our fortune."
Oliver frowned. If he remembered correctly, Flint didn't have much to begin with. His family wasn't poor, but they weren't rolling in money either. "How did he do that? I mean, I didn't think your father would have..." He stopped, realizing that maybe he was taking the conversation a step too far.
Flint shook his head. "We didn't have the money. But the daft old bastard wanted to be the best Death Eater outta the lot of them. He wanted to prove to that maniac that he had the balls, you know? It bit him in the arse. Bit all of us in the arse." He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.
Oliver frowned. That seemed like a fair amount of blackmailing material right there. "Why are you telling me this? I could use this against you, you know?"
Flint laughed. It was the first time that Oliver noticed a sort of handsomeness about him. He still had the crooked teeth and the ever permanent sneer on his face, but there was still something incredibly attractive about his laugh and his eyes, a dark hazel, that danced with amusement.
"Like you, Wood, I have nothing to lose. My image is already tarnished and I have no money. I don't know what you could blackmail me with." He paused, his gaze lingering over Oliver's face, searching for something. "And if you haven't noticed, it's Christmas Eve and I'm working. Which means, I have no one special to lose either."
Oliver was going to protest, he was going to tell Flint that he did have things to lose, but he knew it would have been a lie. Even Quidditch changed from being a fun game that made him smile to a chore, a job that stressed him. He looked down at the firewhiskey in the glass and set it down on the bar.
"I hate my job." He didn't dare look at Flint. "I don't have a family to spend Christmas with either. My mum and dad divorced and my dad married some blonde twat. They ran off to the States. My mum was heartbroken, it drove her insane. They admitted her to St Mungos until she passed a year ago. I've had three girlfriends in a period of two months and for each one, I couldn't even get it up." He could imagine Flint was smirking in amusement or mocking him so he glanced up. He wasn't doing either. He was looking at Oliver somberly. "I shagged a guy last week. I'm a ponce."
Flint snorted. "Welcome to my team, Wood. Would you like to bat first or shall I?"
Oliver's eyes widened. "You're a..."
"Yep. Another thing my father never approved of." Flint smirked. He swung to cloth over his shoulder and crossed his arms. "I told him to go fuck himself."
Oliver chuckled. He stared at Flint carefully, his eyes trailing down the muscular body. Flint wasn't someone that people would guess was gay. He was quite the opposite. He portrayed the perfect form of masculinity.
"Can't tell," he pointed out.
Flint shook his head. "Just because you're a ponce, doesn't mean you have to be a stereotype, does it?"
"No." Oliver smiled. He glanced around the bar and he realized for the first time, it was completely empty. When he turned back around, he jumped. Flint had rested his elbows on the bar and was leaning over it. His face hovered close to Oliver's.
Oliver hesitated as he stared at the knowing smirk, before he came to a decision. He leaned in, pressing his lips roughly against the other man's. He cupped Flint's face and hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him in further. Oliver couldn't remember a time when he had been enraptured in a kiss, but his whole body buzzed with desire. The blood rushed straight to his cock and it stirred in his pants.
By the time he pulled back, he was breathing deeply. "Bloody hell."
Flint swallowed, the smirk returning to his lips. "Wood, I need to close this place down right now. It's closing time."
"Oh yeah." Oliver didn't know why he thought Flint would have enjoyed that kiss as well. The man was quite obviously mocking him - that had to be it.
"After I'm done, I think you should come back to my place. Spend Christmas with me."
Oliver frowned at Flint, but when he noted the genuine smile on his face, Oliver returned it. "Yeah, definitely."
Author: freakingcrups
Gift For: curiouslyfic
Summary: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood - It's Christmas Eve and Oliver is at a bar drinking. He meets someone he hasn't seen in a very long time.
Prompt: N/A
Rating: PG
Warning/s: Kissing? Maybe a tiny bit of angst?
Notes: Merry Christmas, Curi dear.
Follow You Home
Oliver tipped his head back, downing the glass of firewhiskey, and grimaced at the burning sensation. He slammed it back on the bar and raised his finger, signalling the bartender to get him another drink. The bartender nodded with a sympathetic look and pulled out the bottle of firewhiskey, topping the small glass back up.
"You okay, my friend?" The bartender asked. His large brown eyes glanced around the empty bar. "It's Christmas Eve, you know? Getting late."
"Is this your way of kicking me out?" Oliver muttered, downing the firewhiskey again and holding the glass out to the bartender.
The old man snorted. "No. Got nothing to go 'ome to either, boy."
"Who says I don't have anyone to go home to?" Oliver asked quietly. He grimaced when the bartender gave him a long look.
"Not 'ard to see. I've been working 'ere for forty-five years. Seen forty-five Christmases 'ere too. It ain't 'ard to spot the lonely ones." He raised a brow.
When the door opened and closed, the old man looked up, a large, toothless smile slipping onto his face. "Boy! 'Bout time you got 'ere."
"Sorry, Roger, I was caught in that damn carolling crowd."
Oliver didn't turn to see who it was. It didn't really matter. He stared in front of him, dazing in and out of his surroundings. He didn't hear much of the conversation between the newcomer and the old man, but he did hear snippets regarding 'what needed to be done around the bar tonight.' The old man slapped Oliver on the back.
"Gotta be off now, boy. You 'ave a good night now." The old man smiled at him before he limped out of the bar and closed the door behind him.
"Wood?"
Oliver glanced up at the newcomer and groaned at the very familiar man in front of him. "Flint," he greeted.
Flint smirked. "Here on Christmas Eve, huh?" He made his way around the bar and slipped an apron over his head. Reaching behind, he tied a knot in the strings. "No family?"
"What is it with you bartenders and not minding your own business?" Oliver grumbled. He held out his glass to Flint and the other man took the hint.
"What are you having?"
"Firewhiskey."
Flint snorted. "Of course, the strong stuff." He poured Oliver another glass and slid it back to him. "Saw your save in the papers in your last game of the season. Good save."
Oliver grunted. "Go on then, make fun of me for losing."
Flint smirked. "Wasn't going to, Wood." He grabbed a cloth and ran it over the bar. "You're got a good team, but the Wasps were better this year. You couldn't have known the trick they were going to pull with Potter as seeker."
Oliver waved his hand impatiently. "I should have seen it coming. Now, I might not be in a team next season." He tipped his head back and downed the drink.
"Wood, you aren't a bloody seer. You're a captain and a good captain at that. Puddlemere should be kissing your shoes." Before Oliver could ask for another drink, Flint had already set one down.
"You defending me?" Oliver asked in amusement.
"Maybe." Flint raised an eyebrow and snickered. "Don't look so surprised."
"Well excuse me," Oliver gaped at him, "but I remember a certain Slytherin captain who kept trying to get his team members to bludger me."
"Just 'cause you were good. If we had you outta the way, we'd have no problem getting to the hoops."
Oliver chuckled. He nodded - he could respect that, even if the bastard cheated while trying to do it. "You work in a bar now, huh?"
Flint's half smile faltered and he nodded slowly. "Yeah." He went back to wiping the bar top.
"How did that happen then?" He swirled the alcohol in his glass, watching it whirl in his glass.
Flint snorted. "Life. Life kicked me in the arse. My so called dad lost everything, thanks to investing in You Know Who's little projects. Lost our house and our fortune."
Oliver frowned. If he remembered correctly, Flint didn't have much to begin with. His family wasn't poor, but they weren't rolling in money either. "How did he do that? I mean, I didn't think your father would have..." He stopped, realizing that maybe he was taking the conversation a step too far.
Flint shook his head. "We didn't have the money. But the daft old bastard wanted to be the best Death Eater outta the lot of them. He wanted to prove to that maniac that he had the balls, you know? It bit him in the arse. Bit all of us in the arse." He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.
Oliver frowned. That seemed like a fair amount of blackmailing material right there. "Why are you telling me this? I could use this against you, you know?"
Flint laughed. It was the first time that Oliver noticed a sort of handsomeness about him. He still had the crooked teeth and the ever permanent sneer on his face, but there was still something incredibly attractive about his laugh and his eyes, a dark hazel, that danced with amusement.
"Like you, Wood, I have nothing to lose. My image is already tarnished and I have no money. I don't know what you could blackmail me with." He paused, his gaze lingering over Oliver's face, searching for something. "And if you haven't noticed, it's Christmas Eve and I'm working. Which means, I have no one special to lose either."
Oliver was going to protest, he was going to tell Flint that he did have things to lose, but he knew it would have been a lie. Even Quidditch changed from being a fun game that made him smile to a chore, a job that stressed him. He looked down at the firewhiskey in the glass and set it down on the bar.
"I hate my job." He didn't dare look at Flint. "I don't have a family to spend Christmas with either. My mum and dad divorced and my dad married some blonde twat. They ran off to the States. My mum was heartbroken, it drove her insane. They admitted her to St Mungos until she passed a year ago. I've had three girlfriends in a period of two months and for each one, I couldn't even get it up." He could imagine Flint was smirking in amusement or mocking him so he glanced up. He wasn't doing either. He was looking at Oliver somberly. "I shagged a guy last week. I'm a ponce."
Flint snorted. "Welcome to my team, Wood. Would you like to bat first or shall I?"
Oliver's eyes widened. "You're a..."
"Yep. Another thing my father never approved of." Flint smirked. He swung to cloth over his shoulder and crossed his arms. "I told him to go fuck himself."
Oliver chuckled. He stared at Flint carefully, his eyes trailing down the muscular body. Flint wasn't someone that people would guess was gay. He was quite the opposite. He portrayed the perfect form of masculinity.
"Can't tell," he pointed out.
Flint shook his head. "Just because you're a ponce, doesn't mean you have to be a stereotype, does it?"
"No." Oliver smiled. He glanced around the bar and he realized for the first time, it was completely empty. When he turned back around, he jumped. Flint had rested his elbows on the bar and was leaning over it. His face hovered close to Oliver's.
Oliver hesitated as he stared at the knowing smirk, before he came to a decision. He leaned in, pressing his lips roughly against the other man's. He cupped Flint's face and hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him in further. Oliver couldn't remember a time when he had been enraptured in a kiss, but his whole body buzzed with desire. The blood rushed straight to his cock and it stirred in his pants.
By the time he pulled back, he was breathing deeply. "Bloody hell."
Flint swallowed, the smirk returning to his lips. "Wood, I need to close this place down right now. It's closing time."
"Oh yeah." Oliver didn't know why he thought Flint would have enjoyed that kiss as well. The man was quite obviously mocking him - that had to be it.
"After I'm done, I think you should come back to my place. Spend Christmas with me."
Oliver frowned at Flint, but when he noted the genuine smile on his face, Oliver returned it. "Yeah, definitely."