Disclaimer: Percy and Oliver are not mine.
Warning: A bit more intense slashiness.
Dedication: For everyone who reviewed. I'd name you all, but my fingers hurt.
Author's Note: My hands are killing me. So no in depth author's note. I have tendonitis, and I've been typing all day. Enjoy the story!
Same As It Ever Was
Chapter 4
The food is good, I suppose. There are only so many different things one can do to make a salad stand out. We do not talk much through dinner. I must keep myself from staring at him. The way his jaw moves when he eats. The way he handles his flatware. My eyes follow him, in a hidden manner. He is one of the few things I have any active interest in. But I must be careful. I cannot let on...
There is an instant where I think I may need to excuse myself. He is not the cleanest of eaters. This habit annoys me, but we all have faults. And his sandwich is full of things that drip out. And drip they do. He manages to get sauce on his fingers. And unlike a normal person, he does not go for his napkin. He simply licks it off. My eyes are glued to his actions, and my fingers curl about my napkin, gripping it tightly.
He runs his tongue along his finger, slowly, so as not to miss anything. His eyes are closed as he does so. How easy it is for my mind, in it's wanton recesses, to imagine his tongue languidly stroking along *my* finger. He sucks the tip of his finger in his mouth, making a small noise of appreciation. His actions have taken perhaps three or four seconds ant most, but to me it is an eternity.
"Yeah, I probably shouldn't have done that in front of you, huh?" He asks, chuckling sheepishly. "I'm usually not such a pig, trust me."
"It's quite all right." I respond, in a manner which Fred or George would perhaps say was prim.
"You don't hold it against me?" He asks, looking up from below lowered lashes. He has beautiful eyelashes. Thick and long and full.
"Certainly not." I answer. I am struggling for control of myself. He looks into my eyes. Is evidence of my...interest clear there? What if he guesses? What if he is suspicious...
"Good." He says, and to my horror he swirls his finger in what is left of the sauce on his plate and proceeds to suck it off. I swallow, my throat dry. I fumble for my water, eyes still focused on Oliver's finger and lips. But I cannot blame him. He has no idea how what he is doing is affecting me. He can't. But it is still difficult. I take a long drink of my water, feeling some of the heat that has risen in me subsiding. I know my face must be flushed, I can feel the blood there. Oliver glances up, and a look passes over his face.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asks, suddenly.
"N-no." I sputter quickly. I am aghast. I hurry to calm by breathing, to still my heart that is now pounding against my throat.
"Tell me if I am." He says, blinking. His dark brown eyes are fixed on mine, as though searching for something there.
"You aren't."
"Cause it looks like maybe I am..."
"I'm fine!" I practically snap it, and I regret it. "Oliver, I'm sorry." I say, softly. "It has been a very long week, and my nerves are simply worn down."
"I understand." Oliver nods. He looks...wary. Dear Merlin, he knows. I have let on. I have given him so clue to my interest. Now what? We are silent, both staring down at our plates. There is a nervous tension between us now. I clear my throat, but have no words. I smooth my pants over my lap, uneedfully. Though there are other people here, it feels almost as though there is silence all around us. That heavy, oppressive silence that demands to be filled.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Oliver asks, suddenly and in a strange voice. I can only nod. He has concluded that I have some sort of designs on him, and he is offended. he has no more wish to be in my company. Anger and shame burn inside of me. This was a horrible idea. Why did I come? I set my jaw, my stomach already beginning to churn. It is going to be a long night, I can tell. I think a headache is coming on, as well. I will be in a right state by the time I get home. Oliver signals the waitress for the bill. She places it on the table, and I reach for it, to see how much I owe.
"I don't think so." Oliver says, softly but firmly. "It's on me."
"Oh." Shame stains my face again. I am not sure what this tactic means. Either it is some sort of offering, or he is doing me some form of charity. Either way, I am ashamed. But I do not demand that I pay for myself. I am a bit of a miser, I will admit it. I cannot look at him. Or I shouldn't want to look. But I do. I glance up, and am pained by the expression on his face. One of almost sadness and regret. I want to be home.
"I'm sorry." Oliver says, standing.
"You have nothing to apologize for." I force myself to say. This is no fault of his. I am the one to blame. I have deluded him, deceived him.
"No, I do." We exit the restaurant, and it is dark outside. Dark and somewhat cold, crisp. It is a beautiful night. And it brings out in me the most exquisite and infinite of sadness. There is something distant about the night. It is cold and detached. It does not care. This night was made for young lovers, not old fools.
"Please." I say. I have no more desire to anger him. We are alone on the street.
"No, look..." Oliver runs a hand through his hair. I recognize the tiredness in his voice. "I am really sorry. I thought..."
"Please!" I repeat. "It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does." Oliver takes a deep breath, and sighs. He stands before me, moonlight frosting his hair and skin, making him look all the more lovely and unattainable.
"I think I should just go home." I say quietly. I long to touch him, to press my lips against his smooth, soft palm. To run my fingers through his hair, which must be soft and akin to silk.
"May I...may I at least walk you?" He sounds as though he is asking me for the moon. I nod, and we walk in silence towards my building. In the cold moonlight, walking quietly beside him, I can pretend. Pretend the night did not happen. That he is not appalled by me, hurt by me. I want to take his hand. I want nothing more then to take his hand in mine, feeling every nuance and subtlety of it. We come to my building.
"This is me." I say, in classic fashion. But there will be no sweet goodnight kiss for me. Only a cold, final goodbye. An end to something that never even was.
"You won't..." Oliver pauses, wetting his lips. "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"
"Of course not." I say. Why would I tell? I want this to be known even less then he does.
"Thanks. And...you're not...offended, are you?"
"No." I'm not. He is entitled to his own opinions. "You've no control over your...tastes." I risk. I don't want to offend him either, no more then I have already.
"Neither do you." He says, with a sigh. "I really am sorry about this. If I'd known...I just assumed..." He waves his hand in a frustrated gesture, and understand what he is trying to say.
"We all assume things." I say, kindly. I cannot be angry with him. "In truth, there is no way to know anyone's preference without asking." I have a sudden fear. What if that has nothing to do with this? But Oliver nods.
"You're right. So this is really my fault."
"Oh, not at all!" I rush to assure him. "You had no reason to..." I trail off. I am not sure how to phrase it. I have never vocally spoken of my sexuality before. Simply because there has never been any reason to.
"Yes I did!" Oliver says, shaking his head. "Percy, you really don't have to be so polite about this. I mean, feel free to hit me if you'd like."
"Hit you?" I am lost. Why in the world would I be upset? Unless...unless Oliver feels badly that my feelings are unrequited. "Oh, no. That's really not necessary."
"You sure?" He asks. "Because I know if I was in your position, I'd probably want to hit me."
"I have no desire to hit you." I answer softly. No, I would far rather kiss you. And I have a sudden, almost unfightable urge to do just that. To cup my hand against his cheek, tilt his face to mine, and brush my lips across his.
"You're being a real sport about this." He continues.
"These things happen." I sound hopeless, I know I do. I just want to be gone. Any longer and I will lose control. My fingers are twitching, imaging the feel of his cheek.
"Yeah. Do you..." Oliver hesitates, cocking his head at me. "I don't want to freak you out, but..."
"Yes?" I wish he would just ask whatever it is and be gone. Leave me to my lonely existence.
"Never mind." He shakes his head, and holds out his hand. I stare at it.
"I don't think that would be a good idea." I say softly. Too easy for me to pull him close, wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, breathing his scent...
"You're right." He dips his head, hurt. Why does this bother him so? "I really should have said something."
"About what?" I ask, confused. I was the one who should have spoken up, not him. I should have warned him, admitted to my attraction so as not to encounter this exact situation.
"About this." He waves his hand. "It's just...please don't take this the wrong way, okay? Just a bit of defence...I've never been wrong before."
"Wrong?" Now I am thoroughly confused. And the confusion is overpowering the shame and hurt.
"Every guy I've ever asked out has been interested."
"Oh." I nod, and then his words hit me. "Pardon?"
"I've never made a mistake before." He says, shrugging.
"I see." I struggle with my words. I need to be certain, I need to grasp everything. "Oliver...what was tonight?"
"Well, I thought it was a date..."
"Oh god..." I sink to teh steps of the building. My legs won't hold me up. Oliver kneels, concerned.
"Are you okay?"
I can only nod. He...suddenly, I am laughing hysterically. I can't help it. I wrap my arms around my middle and laugh, almost choking in my enthusiasm. All of this time, we have both been thinking the same thing, and we have both been horribly wrong. These things do not truly happen. These are the things one reads about, not the things one lives.
"Percy?" I am frightening Oliver. I can feel tears leaking out of my eyes. I don't think I have ever laughed like this. It frightened me, in all honesty.
"Oh, Oliver..." I struggle to control my emotions. "I believe...I believe there has been a misunderstanding."
"Oh?"
"Yes." I swallow, I get control of myself. "I..." I am not sure how to say this. I have never been good with my words. I take Oliver's hand in my own, shivering at the contact. "You didn't make a mistake."
"Oh?"
"No." I shake my head. "You were quite accurate in your assessment of my sexuality."
"Then...?" He tilts his head, confused.
"Yes." I nod. "As I said, I believe there was a misunderstanding." I cannot express the feelings inside of me. Oliver...Oliver is attracted to me. In the same manner I am attracted to him. Nothing has quite affected me in this way.
"Wow." He sighs, smiling. I flush, licking my lips. This is a highly amusing situation. I do not want the night to be over now.
"Quite." I agree. I stand, pulling him up with me. He does not let go of my hand. I take this as a good sign. I swallow hard, not entirely sure if I am making teh right decision. "Would you like to come up?"
~~~~~~
