Today's line: "There is nothing I want more right now than a cup of tea and a lie down. Merlin. I feel like a Nanna. It's just been such a long week."
The first rush of air through Oliver's hair sets his blood on fire, the sound of Aidan's delighted whoop ringing in his ears and compounding the sensation. Oliver laughs for sheer joy at the sensation; he's loved it ever since he was eleven and had his first lesson with Madam Hooch, when he'd kicked off the ground and almost fallen off his broom at the completely unexpected comfort of flight. It had always felt like something he was born to do.
He looks across at his lover, who has his tanned face upturned to the sky, wind dragging his hair back and down in a blond stream, mouth still open in a cry of pleasure.
They settle at an altitude completely removed from the rest of the world, where the people below are merely dots. Oliver nudges his broom closer to Aidan's so that their thighs are touching. The blond grins at him, then turns his gaze speculatively skywards. "There's some light cloud cover a few metres higher," he muses. "Should be enough to hide us from the ground. Race you to Big Ben?"
Typically, instead of waiting for an answer the former Slytherin sees the glimmer of oh, Merlin, yes in Oliver's eyes and takes off, flattening himself against the broom and shouting something back to him that is whipped away by the wind before it can reach his ears.
Oliver laughs and puts on a burst of speed to catch him up.
Aidan's broom is newer – being international standard, it was new at the start of the season – but only fractionally; it's his build and his reflexes that mean Oliver lags behind slightly for the entire flight. Aidan is small, lithe and far too quick on his broom, dipping and diving and loop-the-looping and still managing to stay comfortably ahead of Oliver; in turn, he's built like a Keeper, stockier and more solid, and while he moves fast on his broom he flies to catch and stop the heavier Quaffle mid-movement and he doesn't quite have the speed to match the Seeker.
The smaller man knows it, though, and slows up slightly until they're flying side-by-side, still punishingly, breathtakingly fast, and the adrenaline is so fantastic he almost feels like he could cry. They fly like this until Big Ben is in sight before the game becomes frantic once more, Oliver pushing his broom harder than he remembers ever pushing it before but still not quite a match for the blond, who hurtles towards the clock-tower so fast Oliver worries he won't be able to stop in time.
He does, though, coaxing the broom into such a sudden stop he almost vaults right over the front of it, leaping lightly off instead and landing on the tier beside the spike on top of London's most iconic landmark.
Still fizzing with the adrenaline, Oliver follows, toppling into his lover and pressing him up against the spike to jam their lips together almost savagely. Aidan responds in kind, pulling him closer and losing themselves in it.
After, they fly back, executing silly loop-the-loops and acrobatics, completely drunk on the joy of flying and each other, and collapse back into Aidan's tiny garden, lying side by side and panting, their brooms hovering patiently by their side.
Aidan sighs heavily and contentedly. "There is nothing I want more right now than a cup of tea and a lie down," he says, not making any movements to get up. "Merlin, I feel like a Nanna. It's just been such a long week."
Oliver chuckles as best he can with his breath still heaving desperately in and out of his lungs. "I'll put the kettle on," he says, hauling himself to his feet and stretching out a hand to pull his lover up with him.