A/N: Hey y'all! Here's some unrequited MarcusPercy.
Word Count: 457
WARNINGS: Language
Enjoy!
One. Two. Three.
Marcus grunted softly as he counted his pull-ups. He'd started over from one hundred and was, admittedly, reaching his limit. But he kept at it, partly because his fitness was a source of pride for him, and partly because Percy Weasley was reading in the bleachers, placed perfectly for wooing.
The Gryffindor hadn't so much as looked his way, but Marcus believed that it was only a matter of time. Percy was unique in the sense that he was a Gryffindor who didn't quite fit in with the other members of his House; normally Gryffindors banded together. But Percy's standoffishness was intriguing to Marcus, and he found himself wanted to learn more about the other boy.
To find the breaches in those walls and pull apart the cracks until the defenses were gone. He wanted nothing more than to take Weasley apart to see how he worked. If he liked what he saw, he'd stick around.
But he'd been trying to get Percy's gaze to follow him for weeks; the workouts weren't working. Marcus dropped to the ground and straightened up on the grass, his dark eyes glued on the figure sitting on the other side of the pitch. He made his way over, making sure to pull his shoulders back and puff out his chest. He was sweaty from the exercise, but his muscles were bulging; there was no way Percy could deny his advances.
He stopped directly in front of the seventh year, a wicked grin on his lips. After a moment, Percy seemed to notice that the shadow that had fallen over his book wasn't receding. He looked up, his blue eyes sharp and piercing.
"Can I help you?" he asked, annoyance clear in his voice.
Marcus leaned forward and lifted a dark brow. "Mind if I sit, Weasley?"
Percy wrinkled his freckled nose and sniffed. "If you must. I was just leaving, anyway."
And indeed, the Gryffindor began gathering up his things and packing them away. Marcus watched for a few moments, amused. "You're in a hurry, aren't you, Weasley?"
Percy didn't spare him a second glance as he threw his bag over his shoulder. "I wait for no man, Flint."
Marcus inclined his head in acknowledgement and waited for Percy to get a short distance away before saying, "A man as handsome as you shouldn't wait."
There it was: the reaction he'd been looking for. Percy turned around so quickly it looked almost painful, a blush on his face. "What did you say?"
Marcus only grinned. "You know what I said."
Moments passed in silence. Finally, Percy cleared his throat and turned around. "Fuck off, Flint."
Marcus' grin widened as Percy hurried away. He'd break the Gryffindor in eventually.