Perciver Oneshots

Lazy Saturdays

I think my frozen heart melted a little writing this.

Muggle au

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Percy pov

I wake up to Oliver pressing dozens of gentle kisses to my face. I burrow closer to his bare chest as he tightens his arms around me.

"Good morning," I yawn and look up at him, snaking my arms around his waist.

"Good morning." He smiles down at me wistfully before kissing the tip of my nose.

"What?" I ask, looking up at him. I'm temporarily lost in the depths of his eyes. I have memorized every speck, every flicker of color, yet I never get tired of them.

"Nothing. I just really love you." I reach up to kiss him softly. The kiss is slow, like we have all the time in the world.

"I love you too." We stay like that, slotted together like puzzle pieces, limbs tangled for a while before I break the silence, "Pancakes? Please, please, please, please, ple-" Oliver cuts me off with another kiss.

"Of course." With that, he unceremoniously tosses the blanket back, leaving me shivering in just my shorts.

"It's cold," I whine, curling myself up into a ball. Oliver chuckles, tossing me a sweatshirt from one of the drawers of the dresser next to our bed. I snatch the sweatshirt up, pulling it to my chest. I watch as he pulls out a black Nike sweatshirt for himself and pulls it over his head. He cards a hand through his hair, trying to tame his bed head.

"You coming?" He raises an eyebrow. I groan and bury my head under a pillow.

"I'll be there in a second, you can start without me."

"I see what you're doing." I peak out from under the pillow to see him wagging a finger at me, "You're trying to get me to do all the work," he accuses.

I laugh, "You got me." I throw a pillow at him. He dodges my throw, letting the pillow fall on the floor.

"I'm not picking that up," he smiles mischievously, raising his hands above his head as he dashes out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Hey!" I call back before dramatically flopping around on the bed. I lay there for a couple minutes, staring at the ceiling.

Finally, I sit up and pull the sweatshirt over my head. It's one of Oliver's so it hangs loosely off my shoulders. It's the blue San Francisco sweatshirt we bought on our trip there together last year. I smile at the memory. The trip had basically just consisted of us eating way too much and wandering around aimlessly through the city.

I reluctantly get out of bed and pick up the pillow I had thrown on the floor, dusting it off before tossing it back on the bed. Eh, I'll make the bed later.

I hiss as my bare feet meet the cold hardwood floor of the hallway, wishing I had socks. I end up run-tip-toeing awkwardly into the living room.

There is barely any free wall space, almost every inch of the walls is covered in bookshelves and posters. Most of the posters are either of bands or football players. Oliver's always been obsessed with football, but ever since he was picked up by Leeds United a couple months back, he's become much more...animated...about it. Not that I mind, he's cute when he talks about football. His eyes light up whenever he talks about the game. I could listen to him talk about it forever.

There's a sad, wilty plant on the window sill overlooking the street below. Neither me nor Oliver are much good with plants. Hell, I don't even know what kind of plant it is.