"Perce, are you having trouble sleeping lately?" The young man's grey-blue
eyes looked concerned beneath his hair the exact shade of burnt umber.
Said boy yawned nonchalantly in response, as if to dismiss his roommate's suggestion. "A bit. Why, Oliver? Is it obvious? Do I look that bad?"
The handsome boy smiled. "Nah, I just hear you every night tossing and turning. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Well," the redhead replied thoughtfully, "I don't know anything I haven't already tried. Is there anything you would suggest trying?"
Oliver shrugged. "Well, whenever I have trouble sleeping at home, my mum'd always make me a mug of hot chocolate and rub my back until I fell asleep..."
"I've tried the hot chocolate, as well as hot milk and God-knows-what else to drink, but maybe the massage thing would work. If I just had someone t do it for me. Now that Penny's gone..."
The other boy nodded in understanding, before offering, "Ah... I could rub your back for you, Perce. If you want." He added quickly.
"Frankly, at this point I'm willing to try anything." He rolled over onto his chest. Though he pretended otherwise, he could only imagine the other boy's Quidditch-callused hands rubbing up and down, gently and strongly, smooth and rough. He sat down on Percy's bed.
"Okay, I'm gonna massage your whole back. I can do it very well, just ask my teammates." Oh, Fred and George had mentioned it often enough. But still, Percy was shocked when he felt his shirt being pulled up past his shoulders, tugging urgently to come off over his head...
"NO!" Wood looked at him quizzically. "Heh. I mean, would you mind just... leaving the shirt on? I'm -uh- shy." Shrugging, he nodded before placing his hands over Percy's shoulders and squeezing luxuriously. "Ahhh..." Oliver grinned, pleased by the laudatory reaction to his handiwork. After a few more squeezes, he pushed the shirt up over his friend's shoulders and moved his hands further out on the shoulder. As he squeezed again, something caught his eye. Prominent white streaks covered the boy's upper arms, mingling with the freckles.
"Hey, Perce, what're all these?" Percy jumped, as much as you can say a person laying down can jump. The other boy was tracing the scars, making them tingle with at his touch. He pulled himself up quickly, yanking his shirt back down. "Ah, those."
"Yeah, what are they?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Now Perce, they've got to be some-"
"It's not anything, okay? Thank you for the massage."
It was simply the end of the discussion. Oliver sighed. "Have it your way. You're welcome." He walked back over to his own bed, where he spent another worrisome night listening to the constant movement of his roommate's sheets.
Said boy yawned nonchalantly in response, as if to dismiss his roommate's suggestion. "A bit. Why, Oliver? Is it obvious? Do I look that bad?"
The handsome boy smiled. "Nah, I just hear you every night tossing and turning. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Well," the redhead replied thoughtfully, "I don't know anything I haven't already tried. Is there anything you would suggest trying?"
Oliver shrugged. "Well, whenever I have trouble sleeping at home, my mum'd always make me a mug of hot chocolate and rub my back until I fell asleep..."
"I've tried the hot chocolate, as well as hot milk and God-knows-what else to drink, but maybe the massage thing would work. If I just had someone t do it for me. Now that Penny's gone..."
The other boy nodded in understanding, before offering, "Ah... I could rub your back for you, Perce. If you want." He added quickly.
"Frankly, at this point I'm willing to try anything." He rolled over onto his chest. Though he pretended otherwise, he could only imagine the other boy's Quidditch-callused hands rubbing up and down, gently and strongly, smooth and rough. He sat down on Percy's bed.
"Okay, I'm gonna massage your whole back. I can do it very well, just ask my teammates." Oh, Fred and George had mentioned it often enough. But still, Percy was shocked when he felt his shirt being pulled up past his shoulders, tugging urgently to come off over his head...
"NO!" Wood looked at him quizzically. "Heh. I mean, would you mind just... leaving the shirt on? I'm -uh- shy." Shrugging, he nodded before placing his hands over Percy's shoulders and squeezing luxuriously. "Ahhh..." Oliver grinned, pleased by the laudatory reaction to his handiwork. After a few more squeezes, he pushed the shirt up over his friend's shoulders and moved his hands further out on the shoulder. As he squeezed again, something caught his eye. Prominent white streaks covered the boy's upper arms, mingling with the freckles.
"Hey, Perce, what're all these?" Percy jumped, as much as you can say a person laying down can jump. The other boy was tracing the scars, making them tingle with at his touch. He pulled himself up quickly, yanking his shirt back down. "Ah, those."
"Yeah, what are they?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Now Perce, they've got to be some-"
"It's not anything, okay? Thank you for the massage."
It was simply the end of the discussion. Oliver sighed. "Have it your way. You're welcome." He walked back over to his own bed, where he spent another worrisome night listening to the constant movement of his roommate's sheets.
