For the lovely Sam

Word Count: 974

Percy is nervous. Oliver wonders how many others would realize it the way he does. To most others, Percy undoubtedly looks calm and collected, but Oliver can see through it. He notices the way Percy undoes the knot of his tie and fixes it again once, twice, three times, then again and again. Some might assume it's just his perfectionism, but Oliver knows better.

Oliver knows Percy.

This isn't just a need to pay meticulous attention to detail. Really, the tie has looked perfect each and every time because of course it does. Percy's fingers are skilled and nimble, and his knots are never anything less than perfect.

"You worry too much," Oliver tells him.

Percy huffs. To his credit, at least he doesn't deny it or lie about how he's perfectly relaxed, thank you very much. His eyes meet Oliver's in the mirror. "Or maybe you don't worry nearly enough, so I have to do all the worrying for both of us."

Oliver grins at that. Percy does have a point. It's one of the reasons they make such a good couple, in his opinion; they always seem to balance one another out. Percy would help Oliver stay focused on things that weren't Quidditch, while Oliver would help Percy stay grounded and not get caught up in those little patterns and habits that led to isolation.

"You know your family loves you, right?" Oliver asks. "I don't think anything is going to change that."

Percy doesn't look so convinced, but Oliver understands. For the last two years since Percy reconnected with his family, he's explained Oliver away as just his roommate. Maybe some of the family doesn't question it, but Oliver has seen the suspicion in George's eyes, like he's doing the math and realizing something doesn't add up.

"My mother… What if she's upset I won't be able to give her grandchildren?"

"Tell her we're trying really, really hard to conceive," Oliver suggests, jumping out of the way as Percy turns, swatting at him. "Oi! Okay, okay. Right. Let me put my serious face on…"

"Oliver…" Percy pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Look, your mum is amazing, okay? She might be upset by that at first, but that won't make her stop loving you. Besides, there are plenty of ways for us to start a little family of our own one day." Oliver takes Percy's hand and pulls him close, kissing him softly. "She'll understand. Hell, she's accepted that the closest thing Charlie will ever have to a child is whatever baby dragon he happens to be looking after."

That makes Percy relax a little more. The tension fades, and maybe he still looks unsure, but at least he's smiling again. Oliver grins. They can get through. That's just one of the many beautiful things about being with Percy: nothing ever really seems truly impossible.

"I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" Percy asks with a soft sigh.

Oliver nods and holds up his hand, leaving a tiny space between his thumb and index finger. "Just a teensy bit."

…

By the time they reach the Burrow, Percy's nerves have returned. Oliver wishes he had thought to convince Percy to take a potion to ease his anxiety, but it's too late now. Molly opens the door, beaming at them. "Oh, Oliver! Good to see you again, dear."

Oliver grins. "Well, always glad to be here, Molly," he says, allowing her to pull him into a tight hug before she turns her attention to Percy.

"Percy, you're getting so thin! Doesn't Oliver cook for you?"

Percy's cheeks glow crimson, the color creeping all the way to the tips of his ears. For several moments, he just sputters awkwardly. "I… Mum, I… Why would Oliver cook for me? We're… He's... "

Oliver deflates slightly. There's the denial again, and it's so painfully obvious. If no one had realized the truth, they'd have to be blind not to see it now. The admission is written all over Percy's face.

"I… Actually, Mum, I do the cooking." Percy's voice trembles, and Oliver looks up, jaw slack. Is it really happening? "Oliver does the tidying up. My boyfriend and I decided it was the fairest way to split chores since he can't cook to save his life."

For a long, painful moment, there is only silence. Molly's back is to him, so Oliver cannot read her expression, but Percy, though exhausted, doesn't look afraid. More silence, and then, "Oh, Percy, dear, we were all wondering when you would finally tell us."

Oliver laughs. "Told you they suspected."

Molly turns to him, smiling. "The way you look at my son reminds me so much of Arthur in our youth," she tells him. "Now, come along. Dinner is nearly ready."

…

As it turns out, there had been a bet going on for the last two years. Everyone had wondered when Percy and Oliver would finally come forward with the truth.

"You couldn't have waited just three more months?" George demands. "I just knew it would be New Years!"

"Pay up," Fleur says, grinning triumphantly.

There are collective groans and grumbles all around the table, Oliver finds himself laughing. Of course they knew. How could they not?

"No bets at the table," Molly says patiently.

Oliver leans against Percy's shoulder, and he can't help but smile. For so long, they had put it off, always so concerned about the best way to go about things. This isn't how they had planned it, but that's okay. Really, where's the fun in planning when life never works out the way you hope?

"I love you," Percy whispers.

"I love you too."

And it's the most liberating thing to say it aloud, without any fear or concerns. Now Oliver can say it as openly as he'd like, and nothing could make him happier.