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Aug. 19th, 2022 07:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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120_minutenTeam: Mittelerde
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität: geschieden/getrennt (fürs Team)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Charakter: Oliver Wood, Charlie Weasley
Wörter: 1210
A/N: Meine beiden Lieblingsszenarien: Oliver und Charlie sind getrennt und Oliver wollte damals wegen Sport und Image und überhaupt niemandem von der Sache erzählen. Kann man nicht oft genug mit spielen. :)
Und fragt nicht wie oft ich heute "Es gibt keine Balladen mehr" gehört habe.
Oliver sat down two beers on the grimy table and smiled in Charlie's general direction, who in turn just grunted his thanks. This wasn't going to be awkward at all.
"Thank you for meeting me here." So not awkward, Oliver thought.
Another grunt from Charlie as Oliver slid into the booth. Then, he cleared his throat and managed a "Sure thing. You alright, Ollie?"
It was weird hearing that nickname again after so many years. Charlie had never called him that while they'd been together. And certainly not after, seeing as they hadn't talked at all in the past seven-or-so years. Thus, 'Ollie' had been -- and had always been supposed to be -- a school thing. Oliver did appreciate the effort at normalcy, though.
Charlie, however, made a face as if he'd bitten into something sour. "Okay, that's just wrong, you're not fourteen anymore. -- Oliver?"
"Also kinda weird?"
"Wood."
"Weirder."
That forced a bark of laughter from Charlie. "Ollie it is, then. How are you?''
"Good. Puddlemere just signed me up for two more seasons, even if they're going to be my last."
Charlie looked up from his pint at that, worry written plainly on his freckled face. "Why? Are you hurt?"
Amazed at the other man's obliviousness, Oliver chuckled. "No, I'm old, Charlie. I'll be thirty-six in a few months."
"Right. -- So, any plans for retirement? You going to be team manager? Commentator?"
Oliver shrugged and took a sip of his beer. While he appreciated the small talk, the real reason for asking for this meeting in Abraxan was swirling at the back of his mind at all times. He swallowed to mask his nervousness. "Not sure yet. How about you? Are you going to write another book?"
"Hell no! Well, maybe a text book, but certainly never ever pop-sci drivel like that again."
Oliver lifted his glass as if to toast the other man. "Pity, I thought it was a really good read. Could almost understand what you see in those overgrown lizards."
"Yeah... well." Charlie seemed to be very interested in the sticky wooden table-top all of a sudden. If Oliver hadn't known his ex better, he'd said Charlie was flustered.
"I'm serious, you've got a surprising knack for story telling."
"But you surely didn't ask me to come here so I can sign your copy?"
Oliver swallowed. "Wish I'd thought of that! But, no. I--" He took a big gulp of beer to buy himself some more time. There was nothing about it, he just needed to say it and-- "I think I might want to come out."
Charlie blinked slowly. "You--What?"
"I want to come out. As gay. Publically."
The emotions chasing over Charlie's broad features changed too quickly to be read. Or Oliver was just out of practice. But finally the other man's expression settled into one that Oliver was intimately familiar with: Poorly hidden disappointment.
"Congratulations?" Charlie didn't even try to sound like he meant it, and Oliver was hardly going to blame him. Not that his being closeted had been the reason they had broken up, but it certainly hadn't helped.
"Well, I... It's just. -- I don't even know." Oliver took another sip of beer. He couldn't really explain his decision, not even to himself, but for Charlie's sake he thought he had to try. "I've got a young teammate in Puddlemere, you know? Nicest bloke you'll ever meet and--" He trailed off.
Charlie smiled softly and nodded, like he understood. "So you want to go public for him? It's good that you found someone like that, Ollie. Someone who's worth it."
Suddenly, the nickname didn't sound so strange anymore, like they were back to being team captain and overeager newbie and that was just wrong, that was so not what Oliver had expected from this conversation and--
"I'm happy for the two of you."
"What?" Oliver blinked. Once, twice. Oh. "No! Not like that, hell, he's twenty! Merlin's pants, I'm not dating him, it's just... He is so obvious and everybody on the team adores him, but he's also so, so scared. -- And I remember being twenty and scared. And I don't want him to someday be thirty-five and lonely and frustrated and... maybe it's the right thing to do?"
Charlie just stared at him, his expression entirely unreadable and entirely unfamiliar. He cleared his throat and forced a smile on his face. "Are you asking me?"
"Kind of?" Oliver shrugged. "Look, I don't know how this is going to go and maybe nobody will care but maybe everybody will care and then you may be dragged into this or not... So you should get a say in this, and, yeah, maybe I'm asking. Maybe I need advice."
The smile slowly, slowly morphed into the real thing, the broad, toothy smile that made Charlie look ten years younger and everything around him seem a little brighter. "You know that I think it would be good for you. And you know that I don't think that you owe anybody that kind of insight into your life. But if you want to, for yourself, for your mate, do it. Even if Rita Skeeter or Lavender Brown break down my door asking about all the steamy sex we used to have, I'll be fine." Charlie chuckled. "I may give increasingly R-rated answers though."
Oliver couldn't help his own smile. "Your mum will be delighted."
"For sure."
"Seriously though, you... wouldn't mind? I obviously won't mention you, but we did live together..."
"Seriously."
That was still absolutely not what Oliver had expected from this evening, but Charlie had always been a good guy. He shouldn't have doubted him. "Thank you."
"Not at all."
Silence fell between them and Oliver started drawing patterns into the condensation on his pint glass.
Charlie looked up at the ceiling and when he started talking again, it took Oliver a moment to realize he was talking to him. "So, you are lonely and frustrated?"
"Maybe. That's phrased a bit dramatic though, most of the time I hardly notice. -- How about you? Did you find someone?"
Charlie shrugged. "Maybe? I don't know, it's still pretty new. He's a mediwizard at the reserve."
And hearing that stung. But way less than Oliver would have expected. In fact, he was smiling as stupidly wide as Charlie was. "I assume you keep him quite busy."
"Funnily enough, that is how we met and got to talking..."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised." He took another sip of beer. "Glad to hear that someone's taking care of you. I miss you."
Charlie sighed. "We had a good thing going for a few years there, didn't we?"
"We really did. But that's not what I meant. I miss... this." He pointed to the space between them and the grimy pub table and their pint glasses. "Talking. Drinking. De-gnoming the garden behind my house."
"Well, I've always got time for some de-gnoming, Ollie."
"Then I'll buy the beer, Charlie."
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität: geschieden/getrennt (fürs Team)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Charakter: Oliver Wood, Charlie Weasley
Wörter: 1210
A/N: Meine beiden Lieblingsszenarien: Oliver und Charlie sind getrennt und Oliver wollte damals wegen Sport und Image und überhaupt niemandem von der Sache erzählen. Kann man nicht oft genug mit spielen. :)
Und fragt nicht wie oft ich heute "Es gibt keine Balladen mehr" gehört habe.
Oliver sat down two beers on the grimy table and smiled in Charlie's general direction, who in turn just grunted his thanks. This wasn't going to be awkward at all.
"Thank you for meeting me here." So not awkward, Oliver thought.
Another grunt from Charlie as Oliver slid into the booth. Then, he cleared his throat and managed a "Sure thing. You alright, Ollie?"
It was weird hearing that nickname again after so many years. Charlie had never called him that while they'd been together. And certainly not after, seeing as they hadn't talked at all in the past seven-or-so years. Thus, 'Ollie' had been -- and had always been supposed to be -- a school thing. Oliver did appreciate the effort at normalcy, though.
Charlie, however, made a face as if he'd bitten into something sour. "Okay, that's just wrong, you're not fourteen anymore. -- Oliver?"
"Also kinda weird?"
"Wood."
"Weirder."
That forced a bark of laughter from Charlie. "Ollie it is, then. How are you?''
"Good. Puddlemere just signed me up for two more seasons, even if they're going to be my last."
Charlie looked up from his pint at that, worry written plainly on his freckled face. "Why? Are you hurt?"
Amazed at the other man's obliviousness, Oliver chuckled. "No, I'm old, Charlie. I'll be thirty-six in a few months."
"Right. -- So, any plans for retirement? You going to be team manager? Commentator?"
Oliver shrugged and took a sip of his beer. While he appreciated the small talk, the real reason for asking for this meeting in Abraxan was swirling at the back of his mind at all times. He swallowed to mask his nervousness. "Not sure yet. How about you? Are you going to write another book?"
"Hell no! Well, maybe a text book, but certainly never ever pop-sci drivel like that again."
Oliver lifted his glass as if to toast the other man. "Pity, I thought it was a really good read. Could almost understand what you see in those overgrown lizards."
"Yeah... well." Charlie seemed to be very interested in the sticky wooden table-top all of a sudden. If Oliver hadn't known his ex better, he'd said Charlie was flustered.
"I'm serious, you've got a surprising knack for story telling."
"But you surely didn't ask me to come here so I can sign your copy?"
Oliver swallowed. "Wish I'd thought of that! But, no. I--" He took a big gulp of beer to buy himself some more time. There was nothing about it, he just needed to say it and-- "I think I might want to come out."
Charlie blinked slowly. "You--What?"
"I want to come out. As gay. Publically."
The emotions chasing over Charlie's broad features changed too quickly to be read. Or Oliver was just out of practice. But finally the other man's expression settled into one that Oliver was intimately familiar with: Poorly hidden disappointment.
"Congratulations?" Charlie didn't even try to sound like he meant it, and Oliver was hardly going to blame him. Not that his being closeted had been the reason they had broken up, but it certainly hadn't helped.
"Well, I... It's just. -- I don't even know." Oliver took another sip of beer. He couldn't really explain his decision, not even to himself, but for Charlie's sake he thought he had to try. "I've got a young teammate in Puddlemere, you know? Nicest bloke you'll ever meet and--" He trailed off.
Charlie smiled softly and nodded, like he understood. "So you want to go public for him? It's good that you found someone like that, Ollie. Someone who's worth it."
Suddenly, the nickname didn't sound so strange anymore, like they were back to being team captain and overeager newbie and that was just wrong, that was so not what Oliver had expected from this conversation and--
"I'm happy for the two of you."
"What?" Oliver blinked. Once, twice. Oh. "No! Not like that, hell, he's twenty! Merlin's pants, I'm not dating him, it's just... He is so obvious and everybody on the team adores him, but he's also so, so scared. -- And I remember being twenty and scared. And I don't want him to someday be thirty-five and lonely and frustrated and... maybe it's the right thing to do?"
Charlie just stared at him, his expression entirely unreadable and entirely unfamiliar. He cleared his throat and forced a smile on his face. "Are you asking me?"
"Kind of?" Oliver shrugged. "Look, I don't know how this is going to go and maybe nobody will care but maybe everybody will care and then you may be dragged into this or not... So you should get a say in this, and, yeah, maybe I'm asking. Maybe I need advice."
The smile slowly, slowly morphed into the real thing, the broad, toothy smile that made Charlie look ten years younger and everything around him seem a little brighter. "You know that I think it would be good for you. And you know that I don't think that you owe anybody that kind of insight into your life. But if you want to, for yourself, for your mate, do it. Even if Rita Skeeter or Lavender Brown break down my door asking about all the steamy sex we used to have, I'll be fine." Charlie chuckled. "I may give increasingly R-rated answers though."
Oliver couldn't help his own smile. "Your mum will be delighted."
"For sure."
"Seriously though, you... wouldn't mind? I obviously won't mention you, but we did live together..."
"Seriously."
That was still absolutely not what Oliver had expected from this evening, but Charlie had always been a good guy. He shouldn't have doubted him. "Thank you."
"Not at all."
Silence fell between them and Oliver started drawing patterns into the condensation on his pint glass.
Charlie looked up at the ceiling and when he started talking again, it took Oliver a moment to realize he was talking to him. "So, you are lonely and frustrated?"
"Maybe. That's phrased a bit dramatic though, most of the time I hardly notice. -- How about you? Did you find someone?"
Charlie shrugged. "Maybe? I don't know, it's still pretty new. He's a mediwizard at the reserve."
And hearing that stung. But way less than Oliver would have expected. In fact, he was smiling as stupidly wide as Charlie was. "I assume you keep him quite busy."
"Funnily enough, that is how we met and got to talking..."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised." He took another sip of beer. "Glad to hear that someone's taking care of you. I miss you."
Charlie sighed. "We had a good thing going for a few years there, didn't we?"
"We really did. But that's not what I meant. I miss... this." He pointed to the space between them and the grimy pub table and their pint glasses. "Talking. Drinking. De-gnoming the garden behind my house."
"Well, I've always got time for some de-gnoming, Ollie."
"Then I'll buy the beer, Charlie."
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Date: 2022-08-19 07:37 pm (UTC)