FlintWood Stop being so lame For the drabbles u ship them right?
“Stop being so lame,” Marcus complained, reaching for the glass that Oliver had just swiped from him.
“I’m being ‘lame’ because you told me to stop you after six drinks, Marcus,” his boyfriend replied, holding the firewhisky that Marcus very much wanted just out of reach.
“Sober me is stupid,” Marcus said, lunging a bit towards the tumbler in Oliver hand, failing, and collapsing onto Oliver’s lap instead. “You shouldn’t listen to him,” Marcus muttered, rubbing his cheek against Oliver’s jeans.
“Sober you says the same thing about drunk you.”
“So I’m always stupid. Big deal.” Marcus grinned up at Oliver. “You still like me anyway.”
Oliver rolled his eyes.
“Merlin knows why,” he said, but the exasperation in his voice was undercut by the affectionate smile on his lips as he took a sip of Marcus’ drink.
“No fair,” Marcus pouted, looking up at the drink with longing, but his arms were too heavy to try to grab at it again.
“Since when do you know a goddamn thing about being fair, Flint?” Oliver laughed.
“You’re just mad I’m better at Quidditch than you.”
“I might be if that was even remotely true.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.” Marcus closed his eyes, a smile on his face and Oliver’s hand stroking his hair.