Today's line: "You are in serious need of a new jumper, Aidan."
"You know what we should do?" Aidan says brightly a few hours later. Oliver rolls over, raising an eyebrow at the sudden surge of energy. "We should go and have a picnic dinner on the beach somewhere."
The other eyebrow joins the first. "A picnic on the beach," he repeats incredulously.
The Seeker beams at him. His enthusiasm, as always, is terribly infectious and Oliver finds himself smiling back. "Yeah," the older man says. "I have some champagne somewhere. Picnic at dusk on the beach?"
Oliver glances at the window, through which the beginnings of a darkening sky can be seen. He grins. "All right. Why not? Grab a jumper."
Aidan vaults off the bed, face shining with enthusiasm. "Do you want one?" He pulls two lumps of fabric from a shelf in his wardrobe without looking at them and tosses one at Oliver.
The other, which he shrugs over his own head, is threadbare and sporting several holes. Oliver stares at it. "Is that the best you've got?" he asks.
The former Slytherin shrugs. "You're wearing my best one. I don't normally wear them. Is that bad?"
Oliver stands up, pulling the jumper over his head and straightening the navy-blue one over Aidan's. "You," he says gravely, "are in serious need of a new jumper, Aidan."
Aidan quirks an eyebrow. "We'll go shopping another day."
They leave the Dublin flat hand in hand, Oliver grinning like a fool in response to such a cavalier assumption that they'll still want to go everywhere together, do everything with and for each other, at an indeterminate point in the future.
The beach is cold, the sand damp and unpleasant and whipping with the breeze around their ears. Aidan shakes out the picnic blanket, sits down and sighs. "It was a good idea," he says sadly.
Oliver laughs. "It was a brilliant idea," he counters, sitting down half-on the Seeker's lap. "You can't help the weather. Here –" he casts a Shield Charm in front of them and the assault of the wind and sand lessens; Aidan hums in delight and levitates the champagne – classically placed in an ice bucket with the cork sticking towards them – between them.
"Danny's party is on Sunday," he says conversationally, watching his lover struggle with the cork on the champagne bottle. "I, um… I know it's a big deal, but I'd really like it if you could come with me."
The cork surrenders, flying out of the bottleneck with an almighty pop and soaring into the surf. Aidan stares at him, champagne running in front of his feet before he snatches a champagne flute and catches the flow. "Come… to your Captain's surprise birthday party with you?" he asks.
Oliver tries to shrug while still looking serious. "I want you there," he said.
"But… won't there be press people there?" the Seeker protests.
He hadn't thought about that, too busy thinking about the reactions of his own teammates. Is it a wise idea to suddenly announce to his teammates and the press at the same time that he's dating a member of another team in the League? A male member of another team? Only, now that the idea is in his head he can't let it go. "They'll find out sooner or later," he says, struggling to keep his voice even. "And it's like you said… this isn't normal. I don't think we should hide it."
Aidan's round, boyish face splits into a slow smile. "The press'll turn it into a shitstorm," he says, but Oliver can hear the tiny note of relish in his voice.
He shrugs again. "Let them try."
The former Slytherin hands over a champagne flute and holds his own in a sort of salute. "To us," he says cheerfully.
Oliver grins and taps the glass with his own, revelling in the clear note that follows the contact. "To us."