Out of curiousity...

[foxmonkey]

Thanks to the pic of JC as the hottest Gryffindor ever (*ever*), if you were to write crossover fic, who would you pair him with?

For the squeamish among us, according to J.K. Rowling, Harry & Co. were born in 1981, making them all quite happily legal here in 2003. So.

JC/Harry? JC/Ron? JC/Draco? JC/...?

Comments

[foxmonkey.livejournal.com]

Oliver's a cutie. Love that accent! Hey, maybe you could slip Oliver into the Faerie King??? *cough*

Yes! JC/Oliver! I could see it now, Oliver taking JC out for flying lessons. Yesssssssssssssssss.

4300 characters only? That sucks!

[ibythetide.livejournal.com]

I post here thinking that there is no way you could possibly bring up an update, but you did! Maybe I'm mentally holding up on an update just to see how inventive you get. ;) But anyway, I couldn't get anything done until this idea got out of my head. I blame you.

*skips away whistling*

flight

Believing was easy. JC always knew there was something more in the world, something unexplainable and wonderful and perfect. JC had thought this to be love. He found it in a Scottish athlete with a cocky grin whose name was Oliver Wood.

After two months of exclusive, low key dating, watching the sun set and rise, waking up to a bright whistle, a light brogue moaning brokenly in his ear, parents approval, gentle kisses --the list goes on and on, really-- JC decided to add happiness to the list of unexplainable, wonderful, perfect, and more "somethings" in the world. Four days, an unexpected delivery, and the long discussion after said delivery forced JC to add yet another thing to his list, magic. But that was okay, JC believed.

Magic had proved to be wonderful, definitely unexplainable, and something more. It wasn't perfect, but it still sat neatly in JC's category of amazing somethings in his life he could believe in. That brought the total to four, JC had quietly added Oliver.

He had accepted the entire magic and secret wizarding world easily enough. Belief did much in the way of smoothing over misunderstandings, misconceptions, and the occasional spell gone wrong.

JC also learned that Oliver was not a soccer star. He played quidditch, the only wizarding sport. It was also nice to finally hear Oliver talk about his profession without the carefully guarded expression. Oliver loved quidditch. He was dedicated to the game, driven by it. JC loved quidditch because it filled Oliver with passion. JC had spent the better part of two years in Europe and understood the type of intensity focused on a single sport. That kind of intensity always translated well into other, more horizontal matters.

Of course, JC's pro-quidditch epiphany ended somewhere around the starting minutes of the Puddlemire United's season opener. Words like "quaffle," and "beater," sounded charming and a bit sexy when Oliver had explained the game, but seeing it played out was another thing entirely. JC had watched the first half through his fingers, flinching at the near-miss collisions, the possessed balls flying directly at someone's face only to be stopped by a mini bat that also seemed to be flying directly at someone's face. And it all took place miles above the ground on what appeared to be rocket-powered broomsticks. It had been semi-exciting --in that heart pounding nail biting, oh god, oh god someone is about to fucking die! kind of way-- until JC made the mistake of watching Oliver make a spectacular save. One that involved wrapping one leg around the length of his broomstick and throwing himself at the quaffle.

Watching Oliver hanging miles above the pitch by one leg, triumphant grin on his face, made JC realize had no problem believing in love or magic or Oliver. He had trouble trusting a flimsy piece of wood and straw could be the only thing between a man and a freefall to the earth. That could only mean one thing. JC had serious trust issues.

Re: 4300 characters only? That sucks!

[ibythetide.livejournal.com]

JC had worked through his latest self-discovery after the game with Oliver at his side. Loudly. With hand gestures and nervous pacing. He broke a glass, but that was an accident.

During the few times JC allowed himself to sit, Oliver made it a point to touch him, catch his flailing hands and hold him close. There were kisses too, often placed on JC's palm, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Oliver looked at JC with such soft eyes, spoke with a voice barely above a whisper, and. Well, yes, JC believed in Oliver, trusted the fact that he's been flying for years.

And. No no no. Trusting Oliver and trusting an inanimate object were too completely different things. Didn't he understand?

What? No, JC did not think he was projecting his relationship fears onto the broomstick. No metaphors or symbolism. JC had trust issues not commitment issues!

It may be more than a sprained ankle next time. No, it doesn't matter if it can be mended fast.

Oh god. Knowing that doesn't make shit better.

Because JC was finally happy and in love for the first time in years and yes, something could happen to Oliver because JC's life worked exactly like that.

That was where the soul-shattering kiss came in. His entire existence centered on how Oliver moved against him, was able to calm JC with thumb on his cheek and a finger beneath his chin. It had also drugged JC's mind, making him susceptible to suggestion. That kiss was the only reason JC had agreed to try flying with Oliver. That kiss was the reason JC now balanced precariously on the polished wood of a Black Hawk 2.0, surrounded endless waves of fluttering grass.

His skin was clammy, eyes clenched tight, and his stomach was shuddering. If he leaned any farther forward, JC would've fallen to the ground. Maybe break his nose. The thought brought another wave of sickness. He gripped the strong hands steadying him that much tighter, another heave ripping through him. He leaned forward, expecting the worse, but nothing happened.

"There's a lad," Oliver whispered, hand smoothing down JC's bare skin. His thumb stroked the curve of JC's spine. He could feel JC’s muscles unclench slowly beneath his palm.

JC finally relaxed enough to sit up. "I think. I think I'm okay," he gasped, wrapping his t-shirt around his hand and wiping at his mouth and pants leg. He felt horrible. He probably smelled horrible. His shirt was ruined.

Fucking broomsticks.

"I didn't mean to. I. I mean. I'm very sorry Joshua." Oliver concentrated on carefully moving them downwind without JC noticing. The Black Hawks may not have all the speed or the power of the better-known brands, but it had the smoothest rid imaginable.

JC shook his head, slowly, continuing his deep, calming breaths. He hadn’t felt a thing. "It wasn't you at all. I just didn't expect to rise so fast like that."

"I saw you were scared. I shoulda thought of some charm to soothe you. I didn't know you got air sick."

"I don't get airsick," JC said, eyes opening. He looked back over his shoulder. "You just forgot you had a beginner here. We left my stomach like, a mile away."

"Aah. So your breakfast was needing to get back there and find it?" Oliver smirked.

"Not funny," JC's muscles clenched. "Please. Don't mention food."

He was pulled back until his body curled to fit Oliver, and his forehead rested against Oliver's neck. Something tapped his shoulder and a warm, soothing sensation rolled down JC's body. He felt more settled after that, relaxed. His mouth tasted minty. He licked his lips and felt a slight sting. Definitely minty.

"What was that?"

"Cleaning charm," Oliver said, voice still soft, brogue heavy. He folded their hands across JC's waist and kissed his temple. "Do you want to try again?"

Re: 4300 characters only? That sucks!

[ibythetide.livejournal.com]

JC realized he was in the middle of another moment. They always snuck up on him even though it started the same way every time. JC flustered or upset, Oliver soothing, a kiss, and suddenly JC was agreeing or understanding or learning or wishing for more time to spend in this perfect moment.

"Not really." JC sighed. "But we may as well or else you'll trick me into it again. Just go slower this time, okay." JC spoke over Oliver's protest. "And, you know. Not too high."

"Alright then. You keep your eyes closed until you get used to the feeling. And don't worry so much, I got you so everything will be okay."

He closed his eyes. "Okay." JC believed him. Believing was easy.

Oliver pushed gently and they were off again, this time at a much slower pace. The grass just tickled the bottom of JC’s feet.

end

I am so sorry it took three comments! I was too pissed at LJ to stop. Then I realized that this wasn't my journal. Forgive me.

Re: 4300 characters only? That sucks!

[foxmonkey.livejournal.com]

Woman! JC/Oliver just for me, kinda!

Sorry about the nagging, but you know I can't help myself. I mean...he's Scottish and magical! How could I resist? :-D

Anyway, I'm very pleased to have this in my LJ, don't apologize. I enjoyed it immensely; thanks for indulging my whim. (((Aylex)))