a little friendly competition
Title: A Little Friendly Competition
Author: kissoffools
Pairing: Oliver Wood/Cedric Diggory
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Oliver Wood finds trash talk exhilarating. And, apparently, so does Cedric Diggory.
Disclaimer: Not mine, move along.
Notes: This is all novelized's doing. Word Count: 1,028. Set during Prisoner of Azkaban. Written for the hh_sugarquill prompt, "What happens during a Quidditch match?" This is a little more before and after the match, but you know. Same difference.
Oliver Wood is big on competition. He works hard and he plays hard, and he wouldn’t even shake hands with other players after a Quidditch match if it weren’t a rule. While he isn’t one for sabotage and pranks on other players - that isn’t fair, that compromises the integrity of the game - but he’s been known to engage in a little trash talk before a particularly intense match. He’ll toss around insults and slanders, but only if someone else starts it.
So when Cedric Diggory started challenging him a few days before the game, Wood can’t exactly resist.
It starts out simply enough. “Your Seeker able to stay on his broom yet, Wood?” Diggory asks as he passes Wood in the corridors after Defense Against The Dark Arts.
“Did one of your Beaters club the other across the head?” Wood calls across the Great Hall at lunchtime. “Last match he just flew around in circles.”
They spend their days tossing insults at each other, each one trying to come up with something more creative than the last. Wood even goes out of his way to run into Diggory in the halls, and he’s fairly certain that Diggory seeks him out in the library one evening after dinner. It becomes like a game that neither of them want to lose.
It’s all innocent at first, just two players engaging in a friendly round of trash talk, until the day of the match. The game is exhilarating. Both teams are on top form, flying around and scoring goal after goal. Wood is ecstatic - his team is performing brilliantly. They’re acting out all his plays and preventing Hufflepuff from scoring goals as best they can, and he’s proud of every last one of them. When Gryffindor wins the match, the cheer rising up over the stadium is deafening.
Wood always likes to stay later than any of the other players, hunching over on one of the benches in the locker room and jotting down notes in his playbook. So after everyone changes, after they break out celebratory Butterbeers and head off across the grounds as a loud, chanting mass, he remains in the change room. He’s focused and driven, and it’s the only time he can find some peace to work on the next match’s plays. So when Diggory appeared in the doorway, Wood was a little irritated at the interruption.
“Nice match,” Diggory says, slowly making his way into the locker room.
Wood leans back a little bit on the bench, arching his eyebrows skeptically. People from rival teams never visit the other team’s locker room - it’s one of the unspoken rules of competition. He doesn’t know what Diggory is doing here, but he’s not sure he’s okay with it.
“Thanks,” Wood says, a little guarded. “Your team played well.” Because they did, as much as he’d rather not admit it.
Diggory takes his time, doing a slow circle around the room, his eyes wandering over the hooks and shelves. And that’s awfully stupid, Wood thinks, because the Hufflepuff team has definitely used this locker room before - not to mention that it’s identical to the one they’d used in the match that day. Diggory’s stalling, he’s up to something, and Wood definitely doesn’t like the thought of that.
“Thanks,” Diggory replies with an easy smile.
Wood feels anxious. Diggory is just standing there, completely at ease, as if he has nowhere better to be than hanging out in the Gryffindor team’s locker room. He’s far too comfortable for his own good, and Wood doesn’t know what to do about that. He doesn’t trust members of his opposing teams, let alone Captains of his opposing teams. He especially doesn’t trust Captain of an opposing team he just beat.
“Why are you here?”
Diggory looks him straight in the eye and crosses his arms. “I want you to teach me the tricks.”
Wood blinks in surprise. Diggory wants what?
“The tricks,” Diggory repeats. “Gryffindor plays a great game, and a lot of the credit goes to you. I want to know,” he says, taking a few steps towards Wood, “your tricks.”
Diggory’s suddenly closer to him than he’s ever been before - closer than most humans have ever been before - and Wood swallows, nervous. He’s starting to get the feeling that something else is going on here, and he’s not sure what to do. “What -“ He has to stop to clear his throat; it’s drier than he realized - “what makes you think I’d give you Gryffindor’s tricks?”
Diggory shakes his head and takes another step closer. “No,” he says, and he’s close enough that Wood actually has to look up a little to meet his eyes. “I want to know your tricks.”
Suddenly, Wood doesn’t think they’re talking about Quidditch anymore.
“Mine?” Wood repeats, his voice a quiet little squeak, and that’s all he has time to say before Diggory’s lips come crashing down on his own.
It takes approximately one second before Wood starts kissing him back.
Wood knows he’s being foolish. He knows that Cedric Diggory is a year younger than him, is a rival Quidditch player, is another guy. He knows that all these things should be sending him running in the opposite direction. And yet here he is, gripping hold of Diggory’s hips to keep him in place as they kiss. Go figure.
Both are breathing heavily when they break apart.
“Bloody hell,” Wood manages to get out, and Diggory smiles.
“Yeah,” he agrees.
Wood doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t know why Diggory all of a sudden has him pinned up against the wall of the locker room, and he doesn’t know why he likes it. But he does know that he doesn’t want to stand around and try and figure it all out. Not when it takes up valuable time that could be spent doing other things. Other surprising, interesting things.
“You want to see my tricks, hm?” Wood asks him.
Diggory nods. “If you’re willing to show me.”
Wood grins and fists his fingers in the front of Diggory’s robes. “Watch and learn,” he says, and then pulls Diggory to him once more.
end.
Author: kissoffools
Pairing: Oliver Wood/Cedric Diggory
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Oliver Wood finds trash talk exhilarating. And, apparently, so does Cedric Diggory.
Disclaimer: Not mine, move along.
Notes: This is all novelized's doing. Word Count: 1,028. Set during Prisoner of Azkaban. Written for the hh_sugarquill prompt, "What happens during a Quidditch match?" This is a little more before and after the match, but you know. Same difference.
Oliver Wood is big on competition. He works hard and he plays hard, and he wouldn’t even shake hands with other players after a Quidditch match if it weren’t a rule. While he isn’t one for sabotage and pranks on other players - that isn’t fair, that compromises the integrity of the game - but he’s been known to engage in a little trash talk before a particularly intense match. He’ll toss around insults and slanders, but only if someone else starts it.
So when Cedric Diggory started challenging him a few days before the game, Wood can’t exactly resist.
It starts out simply enough. “Your Seeker able to stay on his broom yet, Wood?” Diggory asks as he passes Wood in the corridors after Defense Against The Dark Arts.
“Did one of your Beaters club the other across the head?” Wood calls across the Great Hall at lunchtime. “Last match he just flew around in circles.”
They spend their days tossing insults at each other, each one trying to come up with something more creative than the last. Wood even goes out of his way to run into Diggory in the halls, and he’s fairly certain that Diggory seeks him out in the library one evening after dinner. It becomes like a game that neither of them want to lose.
It’s all innocent at first, just two players engaging in a friendly round of trash talk, until the day of the match. The game is exhilarating. Both teams are on top form, flying around and scoring goal after goal. Wood is ecstatic - his team is performing brilliantly. They’re acting out all his plays and preventing Hufflepuff from scoring goals as best they can, and he’s proud of every last one of them. When Gryffindor wins the match, the cheer rising up over the stadium is deafening.
Wood always likes to stay later than any of the other players, hunching over on one of the benches in the locker room and jotting down notes in his playbook. So after everyone changes, after they break out celebratory Butterbeers and head off across the grounds as a loud, chanting mass, he remains in the change room. He’s focused and driven, and it’s the only time he can find some peace to work on the next match’s plays. So when Diggory appeared in the doorway, Wood was a little irritated at the interruption.
“Nice match,” Diggory says, slowly making his way into the locker room.
Wood leans back a little bit on the bench, arching his eyebrows skeptically. People from rival teams never visit the other team’s locker room - it’s one of the unspoken rules of competition. He doesn’t know what Diggory is doing here, but he’s not sure he’s okay with it.
“Thanks,” Wood says, a little guarded. “Your team played well.” Because they did, as much as he’d rather not admit it.
Diggory takes his time, doing a slow circle around the room, his eyes wandering over the hooks and shelves. And that’s awfully stupid, Wood thinks, because the Hufflepuff team has definitely used this locker room before - not to mention that it’s identical to the one they’d used in the match that day. Diggory’s stalling, he’s up to something, and Wood definitely doesn’t like the thought of that.
“Thanks,” Diggory replies with an easy smile.
Wood feels anxious. Diggory is just standing there, completely at ease, as if he has nowhere better to be than hanging out in the Gryffindor team’s locker room. He’s far too comfortable for his own good, and Wood doesn’t know what to do about that. He doesn’t trust members of his opposing teams, let alone Captains of his opposing teams. He especially doesn’t trust Captain of an opposing team he just beat.
“Why are you here?”
Diggory looks him straight in the eye and crosses his arms. “I want you to teach me the tricks.”
Wood blinks in surprise. Diggory wants what?
“The tricks,” Diggory repeats. “Gryffindor plays a great game, and a lot of the credit goes to you. I want to know,” he says, taking a few steps towards Wood, “your tricks.”
Diggory’s suddenly closer to him than he’s ever been before - closer than most humans have ever been before - and Wood swallows, nervous. He’s starting to get the feeling that something else is going on here, and he’s not sure what to do. “What -“ He has to stop to clear his throat; it’s drier than he realized - “what makes you think I’d give you Gryffindor’s tricks?”
Diggory shakes his head and takes another step closer. “No,” he says, and he’s close enough that Wood actually has to look up a little to meet his eyes. “I want to know your tricks.”
Suddenly, Wood doesn’t think they’re talking about Quidditch anymore.
“Mine?” Wood repeats, his voice a quiet little squeak, and that’s all he has time to say before Diggory’s lips come crashing down on his own.
It takes approximately one second before Wood starts kissing him back.
Wood knows he’s being foolish. He knows that Cedric Diggory is a year younger than him, is a rival Quidditch player, is another guy. He knows that all these things should be sending him running in the opposite direction. And yet here he is, gripping hold of Diggory’s hips to keep him in place as they kiss. Go figure.
Both are breathing heavily when they break apart.
“Bloody hell,” Wood manages to get out, and Diggory smiles.
“Yeah,” he agrees.
Wood doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t know why Diggory all of a sudden has him pinned up against the wall of the locker room, and he doesn’t know why he likes it. But he does know that he doesn’t want to stand around and try and figure it all out. Not when it takes up valuable time that could be spent doing other things. Other surprising, interesting things.
“You want to see my tricks, hm?” Wood asks him.
Diggory nods. “If you’re willing to show me.”
Wood grins and fists his fingers in the front of Diggory’s robes. “Watch and learn,” he says, and then pulls Diggory to him once more.
end.