Disclaimer: These aren't my characters, but I'll return them whole.

Directly after leaving his parents' house, Percy began to see meaning in absolutely everything, and it irritated him. The pattern in which the flowers grew or the way the leaves blew in the summer wind could mean anything about him, his future, or his family and their allegiances…which meant that he had no control over the situation beyond absconding. However, that was, without a doubt, the least of his problems. After all, admitting that he didn't have control over his current circumstances was degrading…but hardly as degrading as showing up outside the flat of his dirty little secret and having to ask for space on the couch. And Oliver's obvious reluctance to let him move out didn't help anything. It wasn't that he was ungrateful – far from it, in fact – but…encroaching on Oliver's hospitality reaffirmed the fact that he was a Weasley and didn't have much money, even if he had made a name for himself and gotten promoted. Especially with the situation with Mr. Crouch…he'd thought for sure that he'd be stuck on the bottom rung with his father after that mess.

Then there were the covert things, the miniscule, overlookable things that Oliver did for him, making it painfully obvious that he wanted to rekindle what they'd had at school. Two weeks into Percy's stay, he broke out some Muggle liquor and, two shots in, began "serenading" his guest with an intoxicated and off-key rendition of Celestina Warbeck's "Come and Stir My Cauldron." That song was so old and out-of-character for Oliver, given that he usually preferred the "smooth and musical" tones of The Weird Sisters, Hecate and the Banshees, and The Stregherian Salamanders. Also unlike his usual self, Percy cut himself a break – albeit an enforced one – and imbibed a few shots as well. The last thing he remembered was Oliver kissing him before they both fell asleep on the floor.

He awoke the next morning wrapped in the blanket Oliver's mum had made him for getting signed to a team; his hair was mussed, his glasses askew, and the indeterminate smell of breakfast was washing over his senses. Groaning, he shoved himself up – alright, his clothes, although rumpled, were all where they were supposed to be…nothing too serious happened – and meandered into the tiny kitchen without bothering to get rid of the blanket. As he shakily lowered himself into a chair, Oliver turned around and grinned at him…apparently, someone had had his Hangover Potion already. Granted, all that remained from Percy's drinking was vague nausea and a light headache, but Oliver had drunk more and, yet, he was cheerful as always.

"Still trying to seduce me, are you?" Percy huffed apathetically, blowing a stray piece of hair out of his face.

"…No," Oliver scoffed, amused, "I'm making breakfast."

"I can do that for myself, in case you forgot-"

"Don't doubt your ability, Perce, but…your mum's the one who…right. I'll be quiet now."

"Thank you." Percy sighed and glared down at the table. "Because I don't need your charity, and I'm really going to move out soon – if you'd stop stealing my papers, we could get over that obstacle quicker – and I am self-sufficient."

"Never said you weren't…"

"You're being quiet, remember? Anyway, I have a good job, I'm working on getting a good reputation, especially now that I left my parents' place, and…I don't need to jeopardize it with scandal. Because I know you, and I know what you're trying to do, and I must say that I highly disapprove."

"…I'm trying to make breakfast, Perce."

"No, you're trying to seduce me, and it won't work. I'm beyond the need for sex, and snogging, and companionship, unlike some people-"

"Okay, Perce," Oliver sighed, turning his back on the breakfast (Percy now saw that it was eggs). "There are lines, see, and you just crossed one."

"What? By saying that I don't need sex or by implying that you do?"

"Neither: you crossed the line by saying that you don't need companionship; everyone needs companionship, even former Head Boys who report directly to the Minister of Magic."

"But I-"

"Shut up and let me finish. Did we have something once? Yes, yes we did; it was amazing, brilliant even, and I bloody well enjoyed it, even if you're ashamed or whatever. But I'm not trying to seduce you. I took you in because I like you, and I value your existence and happiness. I stole your papers because I wanted to read the sports section; I just didn't put them back. Look…I'm making eggs! There's no deeper meaning to anything I'm doing here. It's breakfast, plain and simple.

"Besides, everyone needs someone else around. That's part of being human."

"Hypocrite…you were always trying to do things by yourself-"

"But I'm not alone, am I?"

Completely ignoring the eggs, Oliver crossed to Percy and knelt by his side, taking one, shaking wrist in one broad, calloused hand. He leaned in close and, with the other hand, made Percy look him in the eyes.

"If there's something that I'm doing that you don't like, tell me and I'll stop."

"You could start by not getting me drunk again."

"Okay…anything else?"

"…Kiss me."

"…But you just said-"

"I want to make sure that I don't want you to before I tell you for certain."

Oliver shrugged, smiled, and obliged.