FIC: Confessions in a rainstorm (marcus/oliver)
Title: Confessions in a rainstorm
Character(s): Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Prompt: Above the thunder
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,073
Summary: Sometimes you have to confront what scares you the most...
Author's Notes: Not my boys... I only wish they were. For the two stories leading up to this one look at my LJ!
Someone once said that kind words are hard to forget. Oliver always liked the concept behind it, but he also knew that if 99 people said nice things about you and one said something bad that you would always remember the bad. It was that one bad apple of the bunch that always stood out.
To Oliver Marcus was that apple. He was the one always trying to beat him down verbally, physically and mentally. Oliver knew this, he just always figured there was something more lurking behind the cool facade that Flint liked to parade around with. He wasn’t sure why he believe this, after all Flint never gave any hint to it, it was more or less just a feeling that Oliver had about him…a feeling that Oliver was more than happy to believe in, even if he was being ignorant of the truth.
It was a Monday afternoon when Oliver got his first indication that maybe he was not being as delusional as his conscience would have him believe he was. He was running late to Potions, having left his book in his previous class, and was more concerned as to what Snape would do to him if he was late then where he was going when he caught shoulders with someone. He spun around to see who had knocked into him and suddenly found himself standing face to face with Flint. He quickly thought up something to say to hide his sock.
“Watch it Flint," Oliver spat out. “I knew trolls were clumsy, but I thought quidditch might have taught you a thing or two about counteracting that fact.”
It was to Oliver’s surprise when his words were not met with a comeback or a fist. Flint just stood there wide eyed starting at Oliver before abruptly turning on his heels and walking off in the opposite direction. Oliver felt his heart jump and it took everything he had to keep himself glued to his spot instead of chasing after Flint. It was only when he heard Snape ask him if he planed on joining the rest of his classmates for Potions that he was able to find his legs again and move inside the classroom.
Marcus was not sure where he was walking to he just knew he had to get away from Wood, far away from him. He had finished his lessons for the day and decided on retreating to the only place where anything made sense: the pitch. It was cloudy and reasonably overcast for that time of day and Marcus found it the perfect match for his emotional state at the moment… unpredictable, violent, stormy and dismal. He headed up to the Slytherin locker room hoping to find refuge in the familiar surroundings. He leaned back on the cool metal of the lockers and tried to block everything and everyone out of his mind.
If he could only get a hold on what was happening, if he could only control it, if he only know what it was. His mind flashed back to the scene in the hallway. He was sure Wood was talking to him, but all he heard was static in his head... the sudden contact, the realization of who it was and the flood of heat and nerves… it was all too much.
There was never a situation that Marcus couldn’t handle or shrug off. Being detached helped him function. Quidditch was supposed to be the only thing that broke his clam exterior, not a bloody Gryffindor and certainly not Wood. He banged the back of his head against the locker in frustration. He closed his eyes again and listened to the patter of the rain starting to fall on the roof. It was a loud crack of thunder that finally pulled Marcus back to reality. It was raining fairly hard out by now and Marcus cursed himself for staying out so long, if he got caught it would surly mean another detention. He gathered up his things and headed for the door. It was the flash of lightning that caught his attention first before he even realized that someone was standing in the rain not far from the locker room.
“I thought this is where you might have taken off to,” Oliver said, trying to steady his voice as he spoke. “It’s what I would have done too.”
“Piss off Wood,” Marcus was impressed with how controlled he sounded.
Oliver walked towards him, but stopped a few feet away. “I…I don’t hate you ya know.” There was no mistaking the nervous tone in Oliver’s voice this time.
“Ya, so?” Marcus looked up at the sky as he talked, allowing the cool drops of rain to run down his face.
“I just thought you should know,” he kicked at the dirt as he spoke. “Guess I’ll be going then ya?” And with that Oliver turned to head back to the castle. It was the sound of Flint’s voice that stopped him.
“You walked all the way out here and stood in the rain just to tell me you don’t hate me?” Flint sounded amused at this. “You have issues you know that Wood?”
Oliver didn’t turn around. His heart was pounding so loud he thought Flint might be able to hear it above the thunder.
“Ya,” was all Oliver could manage to say as he looked back over his shoulder at Flint. He turned back to the castle and started to walk when he felt a warm hand on his arm. He looked over to find Flint next to him.
“I don’t hate you either,” Marcus never looked at Wood when he talked; instead opting to stare at the dark shadow Hogwarts was casting in the distance. He stood there for a moment almost afraid to move before he released his grasp on the other’s arm and started to move back towards his dorms.
There was another loud crack of thunder as Flint spoke again over his shoulder to Oliver before he walked away. The words were barley audible, but Oliver heard them. He continued to stand by the pitch; letting the rain and Flint’s last words wash over him and for the first time he could remember he smiled because of Marcus.
Someone once said that kind words are hard to forget. Oliver always liked the concept behind it, but tonight he also knew that romantic ones were even harder to forget.
Character(s): Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Prompt: Above the thunder
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,073
Summary: Sometimes you have to confront what scares you the most...
Author's Notes: Not my boys... I only wish they were. For the two stories leading up to this one look at my LJ!
Someone once said that kind words are hard to forget. Oliver always liked the concept behind it, but he also knew that if 99 people said nice things about you and one said something bad that you would always remember the bad. It was that one bad apple of the bunch that always stood out.
To Oliver Marcus was that apple. He was the one always trying to beat him down verbally, physically and mentally. Oliver knew this, he just always figured there was something more lurking behind the cool facade that Flint liked to parade around with. He wasn’t sure why he believe this, after all Flint never gave any hint to it, it was more or less just a feeling that Oliver had about him…a feeling that Oliver was more than happy to believe in, even if he was being ignorant of the truth.
It was a Monday afternoon when Oliver got his first indication that maybe he was not being as delusional as his conscience would have him believe he was. He was running late to Potions, having left his book in his previous class, and was more concerned as to what Snape would do to him if he was late then where he was going when he caught shoulders with someone. He spun around to see who had knocked into him and suddenly found himself standing face to face with Flint. He quickly thought up something to say to hide his sock.
“Watch it Flint," Oliver spat out. “I knew trolls were clumsy, but I thought quidditch might have taught you a thing or two about counteracting that fact.”
It was to Oliver’s surprise when his words were not met with a comeback or a fist. Flint just stood there wide eyed starting at Oliver before abruptly turning on his heels and walking off in the opposite direction. Oliver felt his heart jump and it took everything he had to keep himself glued to his spot instead of chasing after Flint. It was only when he heard Snape ask him if he planed on joining the rest of his classmates for Potions that he was able to find his legs again and move inside the classroom.
Marcus was not sure where he was walking to he just knew he had to get away from Wood, far away from him. He had finished his lessons for the day and decided on retreating to the only place where anything made sense: the pitch. It was cloudy and reasonably overcast for that time of day and Marcus found it the perfect match for his emotional state at the moment… unpredictable, violent, stormy and dismal. He headed up to the Slytherin locker room hoping to find refuge in the familiar surroundings. He leaned back on the cool metal of the lockers and tried to block everything and everyone out of his mind.
If he could only get a hold on what was happening, if he could only control it, if he only know what it was. His mind flashed back to the scene in the hallway. He was sure Wood was talking to him, but all he heard was static in his head... the sudden contact, the realization of who it was and the flood of heat and nerves… it was all too much.
There was never a situation that Marcus couldn’t handle or shrug off. Being detached helped him function. Quidditch was supposed to be the only thing that broke his clam exterior, not a bloody Gryffindor and certainly not Wood. He banged the back of his head against the locker in frustration. He closed his eyes again and listened to the patter of the rain starting to fall on the roof. It was a loud crack of thunder that finally pulled Marcus back to reality. It was raining fairly hard out by now and Marcus cursed himself for staying out so long, if he got caught it would surly mean another detention. He gathered up his things and headed for the door. It was the flash of lightning that caught his attention first before he even realized that someone was standing in the rain not far from the locker room.
“I thought this is where you might have taken off to,” Oliver said, trying to steady his voice as he spoke. “It’s what I would have done too.”
“Piss off Wood,” Marcus was impressed with how controlled he sounded.
Oliver walked towards him, but stopped a few feet away. “I…I don’t hate you ya know.” There was no mistaking the nervous tone in Oliver’s voice this time.
“Ya, so?” Marcus looked up at the sky as he talked, allowing the cool drops of rain to run down his face.
“I just thought you should know,” he kicked at the dirt as he spoke. “Guess I’ll be going then ya?” And with that Oliver turned to head back to the castle. It was the sound of Flint’s voice that stopped him.
“You walked all the way out here and stood in the rain just to tell me you don’t hate me?” Flint sounded amused at this. “You have issues you know that Wood?”
Oliver didn’t turn around. His heart was pounding so loud he thought Flint might be able to hear it above the thunder.
“Ya,” was all Oliver could manage to say as he looked back over his shoulder at Flint. He turned back to the castle and started to walk when he felt a warm hand on his arm. He looked over to find Flint next to him.
“I don’t hate you either,” Marcus never looked at Wood when he talked; instead opting to stare at the dark shadow Hogwarts was casting in the distance. He stood there for a moment almost afraid to move before he released his grasp on the other’s arm and started to move back towards his dorms.
There was another loud crack of thunder as Flint spoke again over his shoulder to Oliver before he walked away. The words were barley audible, but Oliver heard them. He continued to stand by the pitch; letting the rain and Flint’s last words wash over him and for the first time he could remember he smiled because of Marcus.
Someone once said that kind words are hard to forget. Oliver always liked the concept behind it, but tonight he also knew that romantic ones were even harder to forget.