5k Words
Content Warnings: Just fluff! Slice of life, carving pumpkins & baking
Summary: An unexpected Saturday off leaves Percy, Oliver, and Marcus home together for once, with pumpkins to carve and seeds to bake, even if Halloween’s come and gone.
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Weekends in the Weasley/Flint/Wood home were typically quiet. Between Oliver playing with Puddlemere United and Marcus with the Falmouth Falcons, games and practices often kept the household divided, and Percy was often on his own. He liked going to his partners games, they both played brilliantly and looked damn good in their uniforms, but Merlin’s beard, it was loud and often ate up an entire day. So sometimes Percy would stay back, catch up on his reading, and drink his tea in peace.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t like having Oliver and Marcus around, because he did. The house never truly felt like a home when all three of them weren’t together, but it was so rare for it to happen for more than a measly few hours a day.
Because of this, Percy was a bit concerned when he heard the crack of apparition and Marcus’s unmistakable heavy footfalls outside of the front door, when he wasn’t due back for hours.
“Practice got cut short!” Marcus announced from the front of the house, cold November air following him inside, his boots and protective gear landing unceremoniously as he shed them off just inside the door.
He brought the smell of sweat with him into the living room, but he knew better than to sit on the furniture in the clothes he’d played in – one of Percy’s finer teachings. Percy set his book aside and looked up as Marcus leaned against the back of the couch, short black hair disheveled and damp.
“That’s unlike your coach. Is everything alright?” Percy wondered.
Marcus hummed in the affirmative and leaned in, pressing a quick, chilled kiss against Percy’s temple. “Few of the starting guys had other obligations. Extra long practice tomorrow. Should be a lil warmer though, so I’m not complaining. Get to be here with you instead.”
“You say that now, give it an hour and you’ll be bored, climbing the walls,” Percy said with a grin.
Marcus waved him off.
“You can make me some tea,” he suggested a bit cheekily. “I’ll get cleaned up, then maybe I’ll have a nap. And you can read your book and you won’t even notice I’m here,” he added, heading off to the kitchen to paw through the cabinet for his tea as though it was already settled.
Percy was easily convinced.
A quick shower later, Marcus was half asleep on the couch, tea only half finished and cooling on the end table beside him. Percy sat close, tucked in against Marcus’s side, his arm resting heavily along the back of the couch behind Percy. He read his book and sipped his tea enjoying the Saturday peace with some company for once. Content as Percy was, though, with Oliver somewhere in Ireland for Quidditch his absence was felt – Percy’s opposite side was cool where Oliver belonged.
An hour or so had slipped by. Marcus was snoring but Percy had long learned to tune it out. He hadn’t missed the second crack of apparition, though, the sound loud and distinct just outside the front door.
Oliver had appeared on their front walk, gear bag over his shoulder, broom clutched in one hand. The three pumpkins that had been sitting on the stairs for the last week and a half caught his eye as he made his way up and worked open the front door. They’d meant to carve those things before Halloween, and it was now the second week of November. They weren’t as vibrantly orange as they had been even a few days ago, but they still stood out amongst the brown fallen leaves.
“Merlin’s balls!” Oliver muttered as he crossed the threshold, immediately tripping over Marcus’s strewn gear and boots, catching himself on the wall. He cracked a smile though, because if Marcus’s shit was all over the floor that meant all three of them were home.
Oliver toed off his boots and put his things in the front closet (unlike some people) and tossed his sweaty uniform in the general direction of the bathroom hamper as he passed down the hall and into the living room, still buzzing with the energy of the day.
Puddlemere’s seeker had caught the snitch early on in the game – they’d hardly been on the pitch for more than an hour by the time they’d won the match.
And there Oliver found them, his partners both stretched out on the couch, Marcus sleeping while Percy read, using the bigger man as something of a pillow. It made Oliver’s chest ache in the best possible way.
“Look who’s home,” Percy said softly, closing his book and setting it down on the coffee table in front of him. The bit of movement was enough to rouse Marcus, who blinked lazily a few times as he came to.
Oliver hopped the back of the couch, landing at Percy’s free side. “Oi,” he said, greeting his boys with that fond grin. “Won my game. Well, our seeker did, fast little bugger, that one. Barely spent an hour on the pitch. You’re home early, too?”
Marcus hummed. “Few of the guys had something to do. Gotta make it up tomorrow,” he said, voice low and a bit gravelly. “And don’t be modest, good on you for the win, Oliver.”
Oliver’s cheeks heated up a bit at that – leave it to Marcus to make him feel like the best quidditch player that ever was. With that, Oliver shifted to the side, laying himself out across both Percy’s and Marcus’s laps until his head rest on the arm of the couch beside Marcus. He earned grunts and made both of the other two shift in their spots, but it was worth it once they were all mostly comfortable.
“Missed out on this while I was off winning,” he said with his little self satisfied smirk. He wasn't the least bit sorry, even though he knew he was being a bit cheeky.
Marcus’s arm slipped down from the back of the couch to rest against Oliver’s chest, hand absently trailing over the soft fabric of his jumper, while Percy folded his arms on Oliver’s thighs. He soaked up the attention like a sponge.
“You’re ridiculous,” Percy said, exasperated at being climbed on but always, always fond.
“Just a little. Comfortable, though,” Oliver mumbled.
Marcus huffed a groggy laugh. “You’re heavy, that’s what you are.”
Percy let out a hum that showed his agreement.
“And you’re strong, you can take it,” Oliver shot back with a grin before a few moments of quiet settled comfortably over them. He closed his eyes as the adrenaline of his match wore off, and enjoyed the feeling of Marcus’s large hand moving to cradle his face.
Oliver looked up at him, then at Percy. “You know, I was thinking when I got home… Those pumpkins outside are looking rather sad. We never carved them. I think we ought to, before they rot.”
“They’ll rot in two days tops if we cut into them now,” Percy said. “At least in tact they’ll last, and they’re still seasonally appropriate."
Oliver pouted some. “I want to bake the seeds.”
Marcus hummed, clearly in agreement. “Seeds sound good. Can salt some, do some with cinnamon sugar,” he said, thumb brushing lazily along Oliver’s jaw. “Haven’t had them in a long time.”
“Of course you two would gang up on me,” Percy said, content to spend the rest of the evening on the couch lounging with his boys.
“You’re outnumbered, love,” Oliver said.
“Might as well surrender gracefully,” Marcus added.
Oliver tilted his head back further into Marcus’s hand, eyes half lidded and smug. “You’ll thank us when you’re eating them.”
Percy couldn’t really argue with that. “They are quite good…”
Oliver and Marcus traded grins before Oliver leveraged himself to sit up, making Percy groan and earning himself a bit of a shove from Marcus, who got up immediately after.
“I’ll get the pumpkins,” Marcus called as he walked off.
Oliver helped Percy up and pressed a quick kiss to his temple before heading for the kitchen. Percy followed him.
“We’ll need good knives…” Oliver muttered under his breath as he first inspected the ones in the knifeblock, then the ones in the back of the drawer, utensils clattering as he sifted through them. He pulled a few small pairing knives out that he seemed to deem acceptable. “Some spoons too, maybe some bowls for the guts and seeds…”
Marcus brought the pumpkins in one by one, setting them on the kitchen table as Percy stood by with his arms folded, watching his partners work in unison. They really were quite brilliant when they weren’t competing in some fashion.
Deciding to help, Percy grabbed their copy of the Daily Prophet from the counter and started pulling the pages loose, spreading them out in the middle of the floor to protect it from the mess they were undoubtedly going to make.
“See, I knew you’d get into the spirit of it,” Oliver said, elbow deep in one of the bottom cupboards, looking for the biggest mixing bowls they owned.
“I’m in the spirit of not scrubbing pumpkin out of the floorboards,” Percy said dryly, making sure the pages overlapped, leaving no room for mess to seep through.
“That’s what magic is for, Perce,” Marcus argued, brushing his hands off on his shirt once all of the pumpkins were inside.
Percy would argue that magic could only clean what was visible, but he knew neither of the other two would agree with him there, so he didn’t bother. The newspaper would do the trick.
Once the floor was sufficiently protected, the three of them sat together, pumpkins in their laps, the bowls in the middle – one for seeds, one for innards – each with a knife to cut with and spoons to scrape with.
Marcus dove right in, cutting the stem off his pumpkin in seconds, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearm buried deep as he pulled out fistfulls of stringy, seedy pulp and flung them unceremoniously into one of the bowls. The earthy, faintly sweet smell of the pumpkins filled their little kitchen.
Oliver was no cleaner, slimy bits of orange splattering onto the newspaper as he flung handfuls toward the bowl without much aim. Perhaps he’d nailed Marcus with a bit of pulp intentionally.
“Oi! Two can play that game you know,” Marcus warned, flicking a seed at Oliver in retaliation. He then glanced at Percy, who was carefully scooping out the pumpkin innards a spoonful at a time. “Squeamish? This is the best part.”
“If it’s the best part then you’re free to clear out mine,” Percy said, tone dry as ever, knowing that all he had to do was mention it and Marcus would take over.
Marcus snorted and set his pumpkin aside before reaching over and taking Percy’s from his lap. “I’ve got it, you’ll be here all night otherwise.”
While Marcus worked on clearing out his pumpkin, Percy started separating the seeds from the innards that were already in the bowl, a (slightly) cleaner task. The job was mindless, and it was a good thing, too. Percy found himself quite enamoured with the way the muscles in Marcus’s arms flexed as he scraped out his pumpkin – capable, large hands making quick work of the messy job like it was nothing.
Having made fast work of hollowing out his own pumpkin, Oliver joined Percy in separating out the seeds, and they shared a knowing glance, both watching Marcus, who was none the wiser.
When all three of the pumpkins were hollowed out and the bulk of the seeds had been separated away from the stringy innards, Percy cast accio and summoned them each a pencil, so they could plan out their designs.
Marcus seemed to know exactly what he’d wanted his pumpkin to look like, and started sketching the Falmouth Falcons logo into the orange surface, using the tip of the pencil to lightly etch the design from memory.
“Have a plan already?” Oliver asked him, his own pumpkin still blank as he mentally mapped out what he wanted to do.
Marcus hummed, but didn't look up. “Falcons crest. Think it’ll suit a pumpkin. What’re you going to do?”
“A general quidditch theme. Still planning it out up here, though.” Oliver said, tapping his temple. He then looked to Percy, who, like Marcus, was also focused, bent over his work as he planned careful lines. “What about you, Perce?”
“A classic jack-o’-lantern face,” Percy murmured, marking out the triangle eyes. “Something timeless… even though it’ll rot before the week’s over.”
“Doesn’t matter how long the pumpkin lasts,” Oliver said, flashing a grin as he glanced between his boys. “What matters is that we have fun carving them together.”
Marcus finally looked up at that, one eyebrow raised. “Bloody sap.”
To Oliver, this was an obvious compliment, and he grinned, a smug little thing that Marcus was very familiar with.
“Get a room,” Percy commented, glancing up just long enough to catch Marcus returning Oliver’s smirk with a toothy one of his own.
“Not without you,” Marcus shot back without missing a beat.
“No one is getting a room,” Oliver declared, fighting a laugh as he pointed his pencil between them. “We are carving these pumpkins and we are baking these seeds.”
That got a smile out of Percy. It wasn’t often that Oliver was the one to attempt to get things back on track, usually that fell on Percy, but Oliver’d made a good attempt, even if he had been the one to derail things in the first place. It’d worked though, and for a while their kitchen was quiet aside from the gentle rustling of the newspaper pages beneath them when one of them shifted their legs.
Percy was the first of the three to move onto actually carving their pumpkin, which was to be expected with the design he’d gone with. He worked with steady hands making clean cuts, cutting out the eyes and nose while Marcus and Oliver had barely begun cutting into theirs.
Once Percy was finished carving the crooked toothy grin onto his pumpkin, he turned it around proud of the job he’d done, even though the design was simple.
“Looks good, Perce,” Oliver said, glancing up briefly before getting back to work on his own, cutting out small bits of the pumpkins’ surface and tossing the scraps into the bowl with the innards. Percy could make out what appeared to be quidditch goals, though he had to trust the process when it came to the rest of Oliver’s design. He looked very sure of the direction he was taking things, though, seeming to be in the zone now that he had a plan mapped out.
Marcus worked on his a bit longer before looking up to see Percy’s pumpkin. He set his knife down with a groan and cracked his knuckles as Percy leaned back on his palms, the finished pumpkin sitting off to the side at this point.
“Perfect, like you,” Marcus said as he looked over Percy’s work, the compliment coming quite naturally. He took a good look at his own pumpkin before turning it so Percy could see. “Mine’s a bloody mess. Lines are all jagged. Keep cutting off bits I don't mean to.”
Marcus’s falcon was… a little rough, yeah. It looked like he’d tried to do some shading by cutting shallowly into the skin of the pumpkin, but the depth wasn't consistent, and although Percy could tell they were supposed to be feathers, it was probably only because he was very familiar with the logo from doing the laundry.
“Would you like a hand?” Percy offered.
Marcus didn’t even reply, just extended his pumpkin towards Percy and scooted in closer himself, so he could oversee the job, as though Percy would somehow do worse than he’d already done.
Percy wasn’t an expert at carving pumpkins by any stretch of the imagination, but he could be meticulous, and with a bit of creative leeway, he was able to get Marcus’s falcon design looking better, at least to the point where Marcus looked proud of it.
“Thank you,” Marcus said as Percy passed the pumpkin back, admiring his partner's work a bit more closely.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, because the moment the question had left Percy’s lips Oliver was turning his pumpkin around, showing them both with a grin on his face that said he was proud of his work.
“Did a whole quidditch scene,” he explained his art excitedly, pointing out the details. “Theres a quaffle heading for the goals right here, then over here is a beater bat and a bludger, and then–”
Percy cleared his throat, sounding like he was trying to hold off from choking on his breath, covering his mouth with his hand.
Oliver looked confused and glanced at Marcus with a brow raised.
Marcus was staring at the pumpkin with a grin, a low chuckle working its way out of his chest the longer he looked at the design.
“What?”
“That’s a beater bat and a bludger?” Marcus asked, pointing at some of the carvings.
Oliver sighed. “That is what I said.”
“Looks a bit…” Percy began, pausing to search for the right words. “Well… it looks kind of…”
He and Marcus spoke over one another.
“Phallic.”
“Like a cock.”
“It does not!” Oliver scoffed and turned the pumpkin around for further inspection. He was quiet a moment before his cheeks went rosy, a huff of laughter passing his lips. They were actually right. He’d ended up inadvertently making some… questionable design choices in the placement of some of the quidditch equipment.
“It wasn’t meant to look that way!” he tried to explain, unable to hold back from laughing. “And I never claimed to be an artist, alright!” His head fell into his free hand as he rest his arms over the pumpkin.
Marcus leaned in and gave him a rough pat on the back. “It’s alright Oli, either way, you’ve captured a few of your favourite things. It’s very you!” he teased, his toothy grin spread wide as it could go.
Percy went pink almost instantly, a hand coming up to cover his face as he tried and failed to hide his grin. Merlin, only Marcus could say something like that and have it go over so well. He shook his head, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.
At the same time, Oliver barked out a laugh, his head falling back in amusement as his breath escaped him. “That’s bloody rich, coming from you!” he said, giving Marcus’s shoulder a shove.
Marcus just leaned back with that easy grin of his, smug not even beginning to cover it – he’d got both of them good and he knew it. Percy still wouldn’t look at either of them, and Oliver was still chuckling under his breath, andMarcus looked positively pleased with himself for it.
“I don’t think we can display that out front,” Percy managed to say, looking up at the ceiling or over at the kitchen cabinets. There was no way he could look at either of his boys or at that damn pumpkin right now, not if he wanted to maintain composure.
“Oh we absolutely are,” Marcus insisted. “Halloween’s over. No one’ll see it but us.”
“And I’ll be really sad if my pumpkin isn’t out there with yours and Marcus’s, Perce,” Oliver said, giving him those puppy dog eyes that worked far better than Percy would ever admit.
Once again, Percy was outnumbered. Those two were lucky that he loved them.
After the laughter had died down, they carried their completed pumpkins outside, setting them on the stairs leading up to their front door, and Oliver charmed a small flame into each of them, making them glow and flash in the dimming evening light.
All lit up, they looked pretty impressive, even Oliver’s, though… maybe not in the same way as Marcus’s falcon and Percy’s face.
None of them in the proper clothing for the temperature, they didn’t spend much time outside admiring their work, and after a few moments Oliver led the way back inside, eager to get to baking the pumpkin seeds already. Marcus took care of the worst of the mess with a lazy flick of his wand – pumpkin guts and torn up newspaper vanishing with a satisfying pop. Percy gathered up the bowl of seeds, transferred them into a colander and started rinsing them in the sink, while Oliver searched for the baking trays as though this wasn’t his house – not knowing where to start.
“They’re in the bottom cupboard, beside the oven,” Percy said, not even glancing up from the sink.
A moment later came a pleased little “ah!” followed immediately by the clatter of metal as Oliver dropped the trays onto the counter next to the sink, making Percy jump. In retaliation, Percy flicked water from one of his wet hands at him, earning only a grin for his trouble. Oliver stayed right where he was, though, his hip leaning against the counter, waiting with exaggerated patience for Percy to finish rinsing the seeds, that same infuriatingly fond look on his face the whole time.
Behind them, Marcus was sitting at their little kitchen table, just taking in the scene. He cleared his throat and that was all it took to get his partners attention.
“Heard something once, a saying about too many cooks in the kitchen,” he began, getting up and scooting his chair in. “Real bad thing, that. So why don’t you two fetch me when those things are ready to eat, and I’ll just be in here. Napping.” He tipped his head towards the living room, while backing slyly towards the hall.
“Oh, yeah, it would just be terrible if you, y’know, helped,” Oliver said with a roll of his eyes, words laced in sarcasm.
“Could be! Don’t want to chance it,” Marcus said with a smirk before disappearing down the hall with a goofy little wave at them.
“We’ll hear him snoring in ten minutes,” Oliver said with a huff, laying out a tea towel for the clean seeds to be laid out on.
“I give it five.”
“You’re right, I was being too generous,” Oliver said with a grin.
Percy scooped a handful of seeds from the colander in the sink and dropped them on the towel in front of Oliver, who was ready with another tea towel to pat them dry.
Their hands brushed just barely each time Percy laid out another handful of seeds, Oliver responding by gently bumping his hip into Percy’s and making him blush. They found a steady rhythm, laying the seeds out, drying them, and moving them into separate clean bowls – one for each flavour they’d planned on making.
“Think I’ll do the cinnamon sugar batch,” Oliver said as he grabbed his ingredients out of their pantry and got the oven preheating. “You want to do the salted ones?”
Percy nodded and retrieved the salt from their table, and cooking oil from their pantry. He added just a little splash of oil into his bowl of seeds and Oliver’s, then charmed a pair of wooden spoons to stir the bowls as they added their seasonings.
“Should I add anything besides salt?” Percy wondered, shaking the salt shaker little by little, not wanting to over do it.
“Best keep that batch simple in case mine doesn’t turn out,” Oliver said.
It was only at that point that Percy noticed that Oliver was adding scoops of cinnamon and sugar in seemingly random amounts.
“Don’t you have a recipe?”
“You measure with your heart, Perce,” he said, bumping him with his hip once again.
After he’d mixed in a fair bit of each, Oliver ran his finger through the sugary mixture clinging to the inner wall of the bowl. He tasted it thoughtfully. “Needs more sugar.”
“Needs less of your finger in it,” Percy quipped.
“I’ll have you know, there is no better way to taste your cooking. Least dishes this way,” Oliver explained, adding another small scoop of sugar into his bowl and letting the charmed spoon incorporate it all.
“Oh don’t worry about the dishes, Marcus will be doing the washing up,” Percy said with a bit of a scoff, able to hear him snoring in the other room now.
“Least he can do for bailing on us,” Oliver agreed. Again, he ran his finger through the cinnamon and sugar mixture on the inside of the bowl and tasted it, this time giving it a nod of approval.
“Find the proper ratio?” Percy asked him.
Oliver shrugged and gathered another bit of the mixture on his finger. “Think so. What do you think?” he asked playfully, extending his hand towards Percy’s face with an expectant grin.
Percy gave him that familiar exasperated yet oh so fond look but hardly hesitated before he took Oliver’s hand and carefully licked the sugary mixture off the tip of his finger. “It’s perfect.”
Naturally, Oliver was quite pleased with himself. He adored that soft, more cheeky side of Percy that came out every so often. He’d only wished Marcus was awake and in the kitchen with them.
With both the sweet and savory batches of seeds coated nicely, they each spread their bowls out onto their baking trays, and Oliver slid them into their preheated oven, and from there it wasn’t long before their home was smelling wonderfully of fall, a little sweet, a little spicy, nice and warm.
Percy and Oliver sat in the kitchen, not just to let Marcus nap a bit longer, but because Oliver was insistent on watching the seeds bake through the small window on the oven door.
“The sweet ones are easy to burn,” he said, crouching in front of the oven. Oliver was able to feel Percy watching him from where he sat at their table.
Percy just chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat, waiting. He’d planned on waking Marcus up once the seeds were finished and cooled, but it seemed the pleasant scent of them roasting had made its way into the living room and done the job for him, because Marcus came trudging back into the kitchen only about thirty minutes after he’d initially gone.
“Smells amazing… Those things finished yet?” he asked groggily, pulling out his chair at the table and falling into it heavily.
“Not yet, as it turns out, baking takes time,” Percy said.
“Have you told him that?” Marcus asked, nodding toward Oliver, parked in front of the oven.
“I don’t want them to burn,” Oliver explained once again. “I’m being perfectly patient. I can be patient while being in front of the oven,” he insisted, emphasising his point.
Marcus only laughed in response, while Percy grinned.
“While you were napping, we decided that you’ll be doing the washing up,” Percy informed Marcus.
“Since you abandoned us,” Oliver added, no qualms about being a bit more blunt about it than Percy had been.
“Oh you lot’ve decided, have you?” Marcus raised a brow, looking between them. “Lucky for you both I'd have done it anyway.”
Percy rolled his eyes, not necessarily disbelieving, but at his tone, ever sure and smug. Marcus got up and handled it, though, surprisingly apt with household magic for someone who’d grown up with a family house elf. While Marcus set the several mixing bowls up to dry, the oven dinged, and Oliver hurried to his feet, grabbing the oven mitts from the counter.
They all had to admit, for coming from older pumpkins, the seeds looked and smelled wonderful, all nice and golden brown, as Oliver set the trays on the countertop.
“Alright, I’ve been patient long enough,” Oliver muttered, marching off and coming back to the kitchen a moment later with his wand. He cooled the trays off with magic, leaving Marcus and Percy exchanging looks that said they’d known he’d been bursting at the seams while waiting.
Percy had stepped over to the counter while Oliver worked on the trays, standing beside Marcus who leaned back, next to the sink.
“You ought to have the first taste, Oliver, this was all your idea, after all,” Percy told him. Marcus nodded.
He didn’t need any further convincing, and hesitantly took a few of the cinnamon sugar seeds in his hand, checking that they were cool enough. He popped them into his mouth and nodded immediately, grinning between his boys and gesturing at the tray as he crunched the seeds.
“They’re good!” he mumbled, hand in front of his mouth as he tried to hide the fact that he was still chewing as he spoke, even knowing full well how Percy felt about that particular habit of his.
Both Percy and Marcus hummed and gave approving nods as they tried the seeds for themselves. They really had come out perfectly, and the three of them could tell right away that they’d probably end up spoiling their appetites for dinner, snacking on their seeds instead. But that’s what Saturday nights were made for, wasn’t it? Treats shared with the people you cared for most.
“You were right in having us do this today,” Marcus commented, giving Oliver an affectionate nudge before grabbing another handful of seeds.
Percy nodded in agreement. The day had been perfect, the unexpected time off, all together. He wouldn’t have changed a thing, even if initially he hadn’t been quite sold on the idea. “We’ll have to make a tradition of it. Preferably before Halloween, next year.”
Oliver smiled at his boys. He couldn’t have agreed more. “Better late than never.”
Oliver looked up from the television and towards the door where a bewildered Marcus stood. “Hey, how was work?” Oliver greeted.
“It was… fine,” Marcus said, putting his keys on the dresser. “What the fuck did I interrupt?”
Usually, when Marcus came home, it was to Percy sprawled out on the living room or bedroom floor, studying while Oliver sat nearby, watching a match on the television or scrolling through his phone. Which was technically the sight he saw today, too. He had never walked into their flat to Oliver sitting on their bed in his pants, covered in marker lines as Percy sat beside him and continued to draw more.
“Nothing. Percy's studying is all,” Oliver said. “He has a test in a few days. It’s on the…”
“Cardiovascular system,” Percy mumbled absentmindedly. He didn't take his eyes off his laptop, completely engrossed in his notes. After a moment, he leaned forward to squint at the screen, confused.
“Yeah, that,” Oliver said to Marcus.
“Oh-kay,” Marcus drawled. He slowly approached the bed and sat down on the side Percy wasn't currently occupying. “What are you doing exactly?”
“Mapping out his major arteries and other… blood vessels,” Percy explained. He put a dot just above Oliver’s belly button, then hovered the marker near the crux of his thigh. Oliver half expected Percy to tell him to take his pants off so he could draw there, too. “Can you lay down for me?”
Oliver nodded and slid down so his back was flat against the mattress. Percy moved to straddle his calves, muttered a “thank you,” and then started drawing identical lines on either side of Oliver’s stomach.
Marcus lightly traced one of the lines down the side of Oliver’s neck. “Will this wash off?”
“It should,” Oliver assured.
The marks did not come out in one shower, nor did they after two. Oliver’s coach forced him to explain himself before practice started, which wasn't embarrassing in itself. His teammates cooing at him, however, was. He was never going to live this down, but at least Percy passed his test with flying colors. That made the teasing worth it in Oliver's book.
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i saw a tiktok of someone's girlfriend drawing out her nervous system to study for a test and i was like. percy would do this. so here we are
