![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: The Puddlemere Sock
Author: Cedar
Characters: George/Oliver
Word count: 630
Rated: R
Prompt/Summary: This was written based on the observation by
pica_scribit at
read_hp that the lone Puddlemere United sock in the Weasley's house in Chapter 7 of DH is quite a tantalizing object. Who would have a PU sock? Why, Oliver Wood of course! Why would Oliver Wood leave only one sock at the Burrow? Well, I can only think of one reason, and here it is...
“Shit, shit, shit,” Oliver sputtered as they heard the door slam two floors below, and voices float up the stairway.
George’s head emerged from the bedclothes, hair tousled and eyes blurred. “Oh no. They’re home early,” he said, and then grinned up at Oliver.
“Shit,” Oliver replied.
A mad scramble followed, in which bare limbs tangled, pillows were scattered, clothing was hastily located, and lubricant was lost in the sheets for a long, agonizing moment. There was a certain amount of pushing and shoving, and one last sloppy snog, followed by laughter from George and panicky grunts from Oliver.
“My sock! I can only find one!” Oliver whispered through his teeth, buttoning his robes.
“Where did you put it?” asked George, hopping up and down to get his trousers all the way up.
“I don’t know! As I recall you pulled them off with your teeth and tossed them behind you.” Oliver was nearing panic as he dashed to each corner of the room in search of the stray sock.
“You seemed to enjoy it at the time,” George replied.
“George, this is not funny. Help me. It’s a team sock. If your parents find it, they will know it is mine! Unless your father has a set of Puddlemere socks, which I sincerely doubt!” Oliver’s voice had gone squeaky. He had never done well under stress.
“Calm down, and leave it, I hear someone coming up the stairs. Remember, I’m good at this sort of thing,” George said as he tossed the pillows back onto the hastily made bed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“How do I look?” asked Oliver, shoving his other sock into the pocket of his robes, where, along with the lube, it made an odd bulge.
George gave him an appraising glance. “You look like someone who was in the middle of a lovely, kinky shag only to be rudely interrupted by the bad timing of my idiot parents. Let’s go,” George said, before Oliver could protest. He pushed Oliver into the corridor, shutting the door behind him and turning around just in time.
“Mum! Hullo!” George shouted, leaning casually against the doorframe as Molly Weasley appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a shopping bag.
Molly’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you up to, George?” she asked. “Why are you coming out of our bedroom?”
“I’m not.” George feigned confusion. “We were just coming down.” He pointed to Oliver standing a bit behind him.
“Oh, Oliver, what a surprise, I didn’t see you there,” said Molly with a smile. “Sorry, but sometimes with George I get the sense that I’ve just missed something.”
"She just doesn't trust me," George said to Oliver, shaking his head.
“I was only stopping in for a quick…well, a chat. With George,” said Oliver, his face red as a beet and his collar turned under on one side. George eyed him in amusement.
“I asked Oliver to come by. I needed help properly waxing my broom handle. It needed a professional rub-down,” George said, raising an eyebrow, and Oliver’s face actually reddened further.
“George,” Molly said in a scandalized tone, giving him a wink, “that sounds a bit dirty.”
She let out a light laugh, kissed his cheek, and walked into the bedroom.
Oliver barely managed to drag George down one flight of stairs before he dissolved into a laughing fit.
“You have to find my sock,” Oliver whispered, breathing hard, eyes wide.
“I’ll try,” George huffed through his giggles. “Oh, but I hope this hasn’t put you off our plan. There are still six more rooms to go, remember.” WIth a furtive glance around, George planted a quick kiss on Oliver's soft lips.
Despite everything, Oliver smiled and said, “Next week, just double check the timing.”
Author: Cedar
Characters: George/Oliver
Word count: 630
Rated: R
Prompt/Summary: This was written based on the observation by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
“Shit, shit, shit,” Oliver sputtered as they heard the door slam two floors below, and voices float up the stairway.
George’s head emerged from the bedclothes, hair tousled and eyes blurred. “Oh no. They’re home early,” he said, and then grinned up at Oliver.
“Shit,” Oliver replied.
A mad scramble followed, in which bare limbs tangled, pillows were scattered, clothing was hastily located, and lubricant was lost in the sheets for a long, agonizing moment. There was a certain amount of pushing and shoving, and one last sloppy snog, followed by laughter from George and panicky grunts from Oliver.
“My sock! I can only find one!” Oliver whispered through his teeth, buttoning his robes.
“Where did you put it?” asked George, hopping up and down to get his trousers all the way up.
“I don’t know! As I recall you pulled them off with your teeth and tossed them behind you.” Oliver was nearing panic as he dashed to each corner of the room in search of the stray sock.
“You seemed to enjoy it at the time,” George replied.
“George, this is not funny. Help me. It’s a team sock. If your parents find it, they will know it is mine! Unless your father has a set of Puddlemere socks, which I sincerely doubt!” Oliver’s voice had gone squeaky. He had never done well under stress.
“Calm down, and leave it, I hear someone coming up the stairs. Remember, I’m good at this sort of thing,” George said as he tossed the pillows back onto the hastily made bed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“How do I look?” asked Oliver, shoving his other sock into the pocket of his robes, where, along with the lube, it made an odd bulge.
George gave him an appraising glance. “You look like someone who was in the middle of a lovely, kinky shag only to be rudely interrupted by the bad timing of my idiot parents. Let’s go,” George said, before Oliver could protest. He pushed Oliver into the corridor, shutting the door behind him and turning around just in time.
“Mum! Hullo!” George shouted, leaning casually against the doorframe as Molly Weasley appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a shopping bag.
Molly’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you up to, George?” she asked. “Why are you coming out of our bedroom?”
“I’m not.” George feigned confusion. “We were just coming down.” He pointed to Oliver standing a bit behind him.
“Oh, Oliver, what a surprise, I didn’t see you there,” said Molly with a smile. “Sorry, but sometimes with George I get the sense that I’ve just missed something.”
"She just doesn't trust me," George said to Oliver, shaking his head.
“I was only stopping in for a quick…well, a chat. With George,” said Oliver, his face red as a beet and his collar turned under on one side. George eyed him in amusement.
“I asked Oliver to come by. I needed help properly waxing my broom handle. It needed a professional rub-down,” George said, raising an eyebrow, and Oliver’s face actually reddened further.
“George,” Molly said in a scandalized tone, giving him a wink, “that sounds a bit dirty.”
She let out a light laugh, kissed his cheek, and walked into the bedroom.
Oliver barely managed to drag George down one flight of stairs before he dissolved into a laughing fit.
“You have to find my sock,” Oliver whispered, breathing hard, eyes wide.
“I’ll try,” George huffed through his giggles. “Oh, but I hope this hasn’t put you off our plan. There are still six more rooms to go, remember.” WIth a furtive glance around, George planted a quick kiss on Oliver's soft lips.
Despite everything, Oliver smiled and said, “Next week, just double check the timing.”
no subject
Date: 1 Dec 2008 08:30 pm (UTC)xxx
no subject
Date: 3 Dec 2008 05:31 am (UTC)