take this passion, turn it into action
pairing: marcus flint x oliver wood
word count: 1691
a/n: dedicating this one to @lilyevians - I just wanted to bring a little cheer into your world right now because I got the sense that you might need it. I sent that anon ask yesterday and rolled with the flintwood+fake dating trope because I can’t stop/won’t stop. <3 (title from Stop Desire by Tegan and Sara)
“I still don’t know why I’m helping you with this,” Oliver mumbled, straightening out his tie and glancing at Marcus in the mirror reflection above his shoulder.
Marcus groaned and shook his head. “Didn’t think you could get more thick. I told you. Adrian and Terry have been making fun of me for fucking ever for not having a date, and what better way than to fuck with them then showing up at Cassius’s wedding reception with you?”
Oliver sighed, but he agreed. It had all been a coincidence anyways, the two of them running into each other. Or at least, a product of themselves, the fact that they had been signed to competing teams. Now that the war was over and the International Federation was holding events again, it was only a matter of time before they would have run into one another. What was so strange about it was that they had spoken that first event, Marcus had reached out his hand for a truce. And things were still shaky, might always be shaky between the two of them, but over the part couple months Oliver had started to consider Marcus a friend, or at least something approaching a friend.
Which is why when Marcus had bumped into him in Diagon, and gotten a very Slytherin twinkle in his eye, Oliver had agreed to his plan. Without thinking through the fact that now he had to follow through with it, and pretend to be Marcus’s date for an entire evening. Just to fuck with his friends.
Oliver did not want to think about the fact that there might have been a chance he would have said yes if Marcus had asked for a real date. But that was a bridge that he figured they would never come to. From the sounds of it, Marcus was more-or-less straight, which is why everyone would have been so shocked (specifically Adrian, who Marcus was hoping would see that he could be free to date men and finally ask out his long time crush Terence.) Which complicated things, because he was pretty sure Marcus thought he was straight too.
“Here,” Marcus mumbled, and spun Oliver around. “You’re just fucking it up.” Oliver noted, as Marcus untied his bowtie and fixed it up, that even though the other man had large hands and thick fingers, he was surprisingly dexterous.
Oliver swallowed. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and Marcus flashed him a smile - a real smile - and Oliver tried not to melt.
It would be so much easier to hate him again.
Marcus was right.
The wedding itself had been a private affair, family members only. Marcus and Oliver then, luckily, only needed to attend the reception. They arrived at the party hand in hand, and as soon as they stepped in the room the entire crowd stopped talking. Jaws dropped and Oliver heard more than one muttered “holy shit is that Oliver Wood?” as they made their way through the crowd, Marcus in the lead. Marcus’s hand was sweaty, just a bit, and Oliver decided it was because he probably didn’t want to be holding onto Oliver at all.
Even though when they reached the table with Marcus’s friends, he didn’t let go.
“Adrian, Terry,” Marcus greeted, finally letting go of Oliver’s hand to pull a chair out for him. “I’m sure you remember Oliver Wood?”
Oliver grinned weakly and reached across the table to shake the offered up hands.
“I thought you were joking!” Terry pressed, in a stage whisper that was barely any quieter than normal speech. “You said you were bringing Wood and I thought you were pulling our legs!”
Marcus flashed another grin, a devious one and his eyes twinkled in the same way Oliver remembered from their run in. “Would I lie to you?” He asked, as he dropped into his seat.
Adrian laughed. “Literally every day.”
The meal went over smoothly, for the most part. Oliver didn’t say much, but when the table finally switched into conversation about Quidditch he was happy to participate. Adrian was a Ballycastle fan, which Marcus took well, his chest puffing up in pride. Terry, on the other hand, mentioned that he thought Puddlemere actually had a shot this year, and Oliver found himself lost in conversation with the Slytherin.
He was pulled out of it when Marcus took his hand again. “Let’s dance.” Marcus pressed. Oliver frowned - they hadn’t discussed dancing, but he couldn’t very well say no now, could he?
Nodding once to Terry in a ‘thank you for saving me from everyone here’ gesture, he followed Marcus onto the floor.
As they arrived, the song switched, tempo slowing down, couples moving closer together. Oliver glanced at Marcus but the man looked fine, unfazed by this change of events. Taking a breath to steel himself, Oliver stepped closer to Marcus and placed his free hand on the other mans hip, letting Marcus do the same.
They fell into the rhythm easily, bodies only inches apart. Oliver could feel the heat radiating off of Marcus, could smell tobacco and leather polish and broom oil. Could tell, from this close, that Marcus had freckles on his nose and a scar under his left eyebrow. The proximity was heady and when the song ended Oliver tried to step back, catch some fresh air.
Marcus tightened his grip. “Don’t leave me now, Wood.” He mumbled, and Oliver’s stomach clenched and turned but he nodded. He had agreed to this. He just needed to make it through another few hours and then he could go home and actually start to consider this new information about Marcus, could close his eyes and pretend things were different.
Three songs later, finally, Oliver managed to twist out of Marcus’s grip. “Need the bathroom,” he breathed out, and turned on a heel to leave the hall. It was only once he pushed open the doors, inhaled fresh cool air and leant back into a small alcove that he realized he was in big trouble.
Oliver closed his eyes and rested his head on the brick behind him, but when he inhaled again he realized the air was no longer fresh and clean. Marcus’s unique smell was back nearly full force, and he swallowed hard before opening his eyes. Marcus was standing less than a foot away from him, eyes looking almost worried as he scanned Oliver’s face. He was blocking the only way out of the small space, but Oliver realized he didn’t feel too claustrophobic - in fact, he wanted there to be even less space.
“Alright, Wood?” He asked, his voice gruff in a way Oliver wasn’t used to.
Oliver managed to nod as their eyes connected. “Yeah. Just. Needed fresh air.”
Marcus nodded and stepped closer, pressing a hand into the stone wall that Oliver was leaning against. He was just about to say something, lips three inches away from Oliver’s, his exhale ghosting across Oliver’s face. And then the door opened again and Adrian and Terry stumbled out, and Marcus’s eyes went wide and they both froze in place.
“Look, you didn’t see the look on Wood’s face,” Adrian was saying to Terry. Oliver frowned at Marcus and he pulled a face. “I don’t know what he did but he’s managed to con Wood into coming, they’re not dating. He’s just doing it to fuck with us, which is exactly what I said was going to happen. Merlin he’s such an asshole-”
Terence was much quieter, and Marcus glanced back and then turned back to Oliver. “Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all, and then he crashed their lips together. Oliver’s small noise of protest was muffled by Marcus’s lips, and when it was clear the other wasn’t pulling back he lifted his hands up, sliding one around to hold the back of Marcus’s neck and lifting the other up to fist in his shirt.
“Terry,” Adrian stage-whispered, and then made a small strangled sound. “Fuck,” he added, and Oliver listened as the footsteps padded away. “Fuck there are totally snogging, I don’t know how he-“ Adrian’s voice faded off and the kiss lingered another minute before Marcus finally pulled back.
“What was that for?” Oliver tried to sound angry, he really did, but he knew there was no malice in his voice anymore. Knew he couldn’t be angry because even when Marcus laughed and said it was a joke and disappeared, he’d be thinking about that kiss.
Marcus shrugged, and suddenly looked uncomfortable in his own skin, shuffling from one foot to the other and ducking his head down. “Dunno.” He admitted, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the hallway was clear. “Wanted to do that. Figured I wouldn’t get another chance.”
“Are they still out there?” Oliver whispered, low as he could. Why else would Marcus be saying that he wanted to kiss him? (What was he missing?)
Marcus looked back up, met Oliver’s eyes with his own. “No.” He said, clearly. Sure of himself despite the flush creeping up his neck. “I know we’re not really… that you just agreed to this as a favour, or - actually I have no idea why you agreed to this. But I didn’t think I’d get another chance, so.”
Oliver swallowed, hard, and then lifted his hands up to cup Marcus’s face. He decided to take a leap, and hope he didn’t fall. “As far as first dates go, I’d give this a four out of ten, I think. You better aim for a seven on the next one.”
Marcus gaped at him, blinked, shook his head. “What?” He tried to clarify, voice still gruff and low and now laced with confusion.
“You wanted to kiss me. I want you to continue kissing me. Sounds to me like that’s grounds for a second date?”
A large grin broke out over Marcus’s face, and suddenly Oliver found himself being crowded back into the wall again, Marcus’s hands on his hips and his body warm against Oliver’s chest. “Who says I need to wait for a second date?”