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120_minutenTeam: Aschenputtel
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität – Sich nach jemandem/etwas verzehren (fürs Team)
Wörter: 1,042
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Oliver Wood/Charlie Weasley
Warnungen: Englisch, angsty, reference to canon character death
A/N: Charlie and Oliver don’t do particularly well with relationships, but they do worse with loneliness.
Und damit bin ich dann im Urlaub. =D
The first time they hooked up, Charlie was drunk and Oliver was well on his way there. They were both shaking, from residual adrenaline, from hunger and desire and, probably, shock. Oliver didn‘t think much about it, certainly didn‘t entertain the possibility that there could be a second time. It was a means to an end. They both craved contact, the feeling of a beating heart under their hands and an excuse to just forget about what had happened, just for a moment.
Afterwards, they didn‘t even bother to fix their clothes, they just returned to the real world, the dust and the cries and the bodies. Oliver wanted to tell him that he was sorry about Fred but he didn‘t. So they didn‘t say anything.
The second time was hurried, urgent. Outside of the Leaky Cauldron, in a dark alley. Charlie was tipsy and Oliver too horny to think about it and, really, it wasn‘t exactly good but afterwards, Oliver‘s nerves had cooled some and the haunted look in Charlie‘s eyes had made way for something softer. So, that was good.
Charlie had wished him good luck for the tournament and Oliver had hugged him and wished him Merry Christmas.
The third and fourth and maybe even the fifth time were the result of chance encounters and, again, more alcohol than Oliver was strictly comfortable with. But he was lonely and Charlie‘s hands were warm and callused and familiar and if it wasn‘t what they needed, it came pretty close.
„Is this going to become a habit?“ Charlie asked after the fifth time, one heavy arm draped over Oliver’s chest and a small smile playing on his lips.
„I wouldn‘t exactly mind.“
So that was that.
A habit wasn‘t a relationship, which was a good thing, because they fucking sucked at habits. When Charlie visited Bill, Oliver was in Spain for a tournament and when an exhibition game brought Oliver to Romania, Charlie was tracking Vipertooths in bloody Peru. Sending owls back and fourth felt surprisingly nice, as if there was actually someone waiting out there. Falling asleep alone still fucking sucked, though.
The sixth time was in a shabby motel bed somewhere outside of Vilnius and they clung desperately to each other. They didn’t fall asleep together because Oliver had a match to play. He didn’t ask about the shiny burn on Charlie’s back and Charlie didn’t stay awake long enough to ask who they were playing.
As far as habits went, it could have been worse.
Inbetween the sixth and the seventh time, Oliver tried dating the seeker of the Karasjok Kites and it was good until it really, really wasn’t anymore. They didn’t even fight, they understood that quidditch was always and would always be the priority, for both of them. When Oliver went to play for the Tarapoto Tree-Skimmers for a season, Ragnor kissed him good-bye with a smile.
One season became three and Oliver kind of forgot about Ragnor, Charlie and being alone, and blamed that empty feeling in the pit of his stomach on homesickness. Merlin, he missed Glasgow and his mother’s Bakewell tart.
Homesickness was as good an excuse as any, he figured, as he woke up in his small Tarapoto apartment, slightly hungover, snuggled close to Charlie.
In the week that followed, they didn’t get all that much sleep but in retrospect, Oliver hadn’t slept that well in ages.
Charlie left with notes on the mating habits of Vipertooths and a sheepish smile.
When Oliver returned from Peru half a year later, he found a wedding invitation in his post box. He send Charlie an owl, apologizing for not having been able to make it, what with him being away and not knowing a thing about it.
No worries. Didn’t happen. Might be an asshole but not that much of one, read the reply and Oliver couldn’t quite figure out why he was actually sad about that.
Because if Charlie could get married despite that haunted look in his eyes and the perpetual need to not be there, maybe Oliver could, too.
They met up again after that, for a couple o’ beers and a romp in the sheets.
It didn’t make falling asleep easier or any more pleasant but at least it scratched that particular itch. Which was really everything they could ask for, wasn’t it?
The next time they met, by chance in a bar in Zagreb, Oliver said hi politely and went home with the cute bar keeper and, for a moment, it felt like the world was falling into place, finally.
Of course, the next morning he woke up to fried bacon and strong coffee and a promise to call. He didn’t have a phone. They both didn’t particularly care.
You could get used to a lot, Oliver figured. George and Angelina seemed to be doing okay. When they smiled at each other during their vows, there was no doubt that they were happy. Sure, they could have been happier with Fred by their side, but they were happy.
And when Oliver whirled around the dance floor with Fleur Weasley in his arms and Charlie’s hearty laughter ringing in his ears, he thought that he could be, too.
Somehow.
He finally tracked Charlie down in Ratnapura, Sri Lanka, with a little help of Bill and George. Apparently, he had retired from the dragon reserve and was working on a book about Demiguises. Good excuse to run even further, Oliver thought. Not that he could really judge him. After the second surgery, the doctors had told him that his rotator cuff would not be able to sustain further abuse and running to Sri Lanka began to sound like the logical consequence of retirement.
When Charlie opened the door of his run-down hut, he had a fluffy white creature on his arm and was smiling. Oliver hadn’t seen him smiling like that in years.
“Oliver.”
“Charlie.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m done being alone.”
“Hu.”
“So I figured… Want to try not being alone, together, for a change?”
That smile vanished, to be replaced with something… unreadable. Charlie looked hungry and desperate and so ridiculously relieved, it made Oliver’s heart ache. “Sure.”
And if it wasn’t good, it was perfect.
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität – Sich nach jemandem/etwas verzehren (fürs Team)
Wörter: 1,042
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Oliver Wood/Charlie Weasley
Warnungen: Englisch, angsty, reference to canon character death
A/N: Charlie and Oliver don’t do particularly well with relationships, but they do worse with loneliness.
Und damit bin ich dann im Urlaub. =D
The first time they hooked up, Charlie was drunk and Oliver was well on his way there. They were both shaking, from residual adrenaline, from hunger and desire and, probably, shock. Oliver didn‘t think much about it, certainly didn‘t entertain the possibility that there could be a second time. It was a means to an end. They both craved contact, the feeling of a beating heart under their hands and an excuse to just forget about what had happened, just for a moment.
Afterwards, they didn‘t even bother to fix their clothes, they just returned to the real world, the dust and the cries and the bodies. Oliver wanted to tell him that he was sorry about Fred but he didn‘t. So they didn‘t say anything.
The second time was hurried, urgent. Outside of the Leaky Cauldron, in a dark alley. Charlie was tipsy and Oliver too horny to think about it and, really, it wasn‘t exactly good but afterwards, Oliver‘s nerves had cooled some and the haunted look in Charlie‘s eyes had made way for something softer. So, that was good.
Charlie had wished him good luck for the tournament and Oliver had hugged him and wished him Merry Christmas.
The third and fourth and maybe even the fifth time were the result of chance encounters and, again, more alcohol than Oliver was strictly comfortable with. But he was lonely and Charlie‘s hands were warm and callused and familiar and if it wasn‘t what they needed, it came pretty close.
„Is this going to become a habit?“ Charlie asked after the fifth time, one heavy arm draped over Oliver’s chest and a small smile playing on his lips.
„I wouldn‘t exactly mind.“
So that was that.
A habit wasn‘t a relationship, which was a good thing, because they fucking sucked at habits. When Charlie visited Bill, Oliver was in Spain for a tournament and when an exhibition game brought Oliver to Romania, Charlie was tracking Vipertooths in bloody Peru. Sending owls back and fourth felt surprisingly nice, as if there was actually someone waiting out there. Falling asleep alone still fucking sucked, though.
The sixth time was in a shabby motel bed somewhere outside of Vilnius and they clung desperately to each other. They didn’t fall asleep together because Oliver had a match to play. He didn’t ask about the shiny burn on Charlie’s back and Charlie didn’t stay awake long enough to ask who they were playing.
As far as habits went, it could have been worse.
Inbetween the sixth and the seventh time, Oliver tried dating the seeker of the Karasjok Kites and it was good until it really, really wasn’t anymore. They didn’t even fight, they understood that quidditch was always and would always be the priority, for both of them. When Oliver went to play for the Tarapoto Tree-Skimmers for a season, Ragnor kissed him good-bye with a smile.
One season became three and Oliver kind of forgot about Ragnor, Charlie and being alone, and blamed that empty feeling in the pit of his stomach on homesickness. Merlin, he missed Glasgow and his mother’s Bakewell tart.
Homesickness was as good an excuse as any, he figured, as he woke up in his small Tarapoto apartment, slightly hungover, snuggled close to Charlie.
In the week that followed, they didn’t get all that much sleep but in retrospect, Oliver hadn’t slept that well in ages.
Charlie left with notes on the mating habits of Vipertooths and a sheepish smile.
When Oliver returned from Peru half a year later, he found a wedding invitation in his post box. He send Charlie an owl, apologizing for not having been able to make it, what with him being away and not knowing a thing about it.
No worries. Didn’t happen. Might be an asshole but not that much of one, read the reply and Oliver couldn’t quite figure out why he was actually sad about that.
Because if Charlie could get married despite that haunted look in his eyes and the perpetual need to not be there, maybe Oliver could, too.
They met up again after that, for a couple o’ beers and a romp in the sheets.
It didn’t make falling asleep easier or any more pleasant but at least it scratched that particular itch. Which was really everything they could ask for, wasn’t it?
The next time they met, by chance in a bar in Zagreb, Oliver said hi politely and went home with the cute bar keeper and, for a moment, it felt like the world was falling into place, finally.
Of course, the next morning he woke up to fried bacon and strong coffee and a promise to call. He didn’t have a phone. They both didn’t particularly care.
You could get used to a lot, Oliver figured. George and Angelina seemed to be doing okay. When they smiled at each other during their vows, there was no doubt that they were happy. Sure, they could have been happier with Fred by their side, but they were happy.
And when Oliver whirled around the dance floor with Fleur Weasley in his arms and Charlie’s hearty laughter ringing in his ears, he thought that he could be, too.
Somehow.
He finally tracked Charlie down in Ratnapura, Sri Lanka, with a little help of Bill and George. Apparently, he had retired from the dragon reserve and was working on a book about Demiguises. Good excuse to run even further, Oliver thought. Not that he could really judge him. After the second surgery, the doctors had told him that his rotator cuff would not be able to sustain further abuse and running to Sri Lanka began to sound like the logical consequence of retirement.
When Charlie opened the door of his run-down hut, he had a fluffy white creature on his arm and was smiling. Oliver hadn’t seen him smiling like that in years.
“Oliver.”
“Charlie.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m done being alone.”
“Hu.”
“So I figured… Want to try not being alone, together, for a change?”
That smile vanished, to be replaced with something… unreadable. Charlie looked hungry and desperate and so ridiculously relieved, it made Oliver’s heart ache. “Sure.”
And if it wasn’t good, it was perfect.
no subject
Date: 2017-07-01 01:39 pm (UTC)Adoptieren sie jetzt ganz viele Demiguises??
no subject
Date: 2017-07-01 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-07-03 02:21 pm (UTC)AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH
Mein Herz ;A; asdfghjkl ich weiß gar nicht, was ich dazu sagen soll, aber DANKE FÜR DAS ENDE
ohne Happy End wär ich jetz fertig ;-;
(und die Demiguises <3 Ich liebe die Dinger)