The Scene
After the revelation that Oliver at least thought that he was in love, Percy was left with a few questions: Was the whole brain division mess when Oliver fell in love with him, or was it when he realized? Did he even mean it that way, or was it just a simple misunderstanding? Or, Percy's personal favorite, did he himself feel the same way?
His mind chanted those questions like a mantra the next few times he saw Oliver.
Oliver was deeply confused around Percy, and Percy could tell because of the whole 'a part of his conscience latching onto the back of his brain' thing. But there was also something there—a swell of affection so great that Percy needed a moment to process that it was because of him. By the end of the week, Percy knew that Oliver was completely sure of how he felt.
That, paired with the fact that he knew what Oliver was feeling and thinking all the time without even trying, had Percy scrambling to learn how to live with this new development.
He had to try to recall how he'd been going about it before. He would concentrate and then the thoughts would differentiate themselves, just like that, and he could then block them out. But this was different; it didn't come as natural. Even forcing it didn't work. Oliver was ubiquitous, and the only thing he could do about it was deal with it.
Carrying the startling reminder that his best friend was in love with him was no easy feat for Percy. As far as figuring out his own feelings, well, he at least knew that the uneasiness in his stomach due to conflicting emotions wasn't Oliver. He was very familiar with Oliver's guilt. This was his own.
On one hand, Percy almost felt a little sorry. He couldn't stop himself from thinking that in a way, he'd manipulated Oliver into falling in love with him. It was silly, really, but when he stopped to think about it...
Oliver liked Percy because Percy was the only person who didn't get him seriously upset a single time. Percy was always there for him and brought him genuine happiness when even Oliver didn't know that he could've been happier. Percy, while he did know Oliver pretty well, really only was able to do these things to such an extent because he could understand him on a level beyond the average person.
Percy couldn't talk to anybody about his speculation, so it wasn't until a month later that by himself, he was able to reach the conclusion that it wasn't his fault. He remembered the chaos that was his brain when he first made friends with Oliver, as well as how he'd gotten over it before: Oliver liked him for him. Percy didn't have to try to be there for Oliver, he just was. He didn't actively use his abilities to try to make Oliver feel any kind of way, Oliver only felt and Percy responded.
This was the same thing, except it wasn't so friendly anymore. It wasn't his fault that Oliver fell in love so easily!
Then, and only then did he even start to consider the possibility that he felt the same way about Oliver.
Percy could admit that he loved Oliver. Oliver was warmth. He made Percy feel normal, and not just because he also had special abilities. He knew he could trust Oliver with anything, and though he was reluctant to lean on anyone for anything, it would be Oliver he went to for help.
Whether it was their constant proximity, the constant reminder that Oliver had feelings for him, or just genuine affection and attraction to Oliver, Percy found himself believing that he reciprocated Oliver's feelings. The next step would be to confess his feelings that he knew to be reciprocated, so it was too bad that neither of them wanted to make the first move.
Oliver was scared to, and with good reason. He had a fear of rejection and ruining their relationship, something that Percy could discern even when the thought was tangled with fantasies about his lips. Percy felt bad and almost embarrassed that he knew about the latter kind of thoughts, but he didn't exactly hate it. At the very least, it was flattering, but that wasn't the point.
Percy really couldn't explain why he didn't want to make the first move, which was really frustrating because he'd normally be adept in identifying his feelings. Oliver was making things right difficult, pushing his understanding of everything he'd ever known about himself. It was refreshing and terrifying.
In all actuality, Percy didn't want to tell Oliver about his feelings because he felt like it was up to Oliver to initiate something, as he didn't trust himself to. He was a little too freaked out to understand that, though. Characteristically, he simply convinced himself that it would be better if he didn't do anything at all, and if Oliver wanted to decide to say something, he could.
So he waited. And waited and waited and waited some more until finally, their day came.
Months had passed since Percy figured out his feelings, and over a year had passed since Oliver had involuntarily made his feelings known.
The air around them was charged with an unacknowledged tension, both buzzing with their similar yet different burdens of loving the other. Oliver's awkwardness was recurring, Percy was hyperaware of the underlying motivations of each and every lingering touch, but other than that, they were perfectly normal. Nobody suspected anything was amiss (if they did, then they already thought so).
The moment, well, it wasn't as picturesque as either of them would've liked—it was rather distressing, actually—but it was their moment.
At the beginning of the night, Percy was at home. It was one of those days where no matter how hard they tried, Percy and Oliver couldn't work out some time for them to spend together. Oliver was remorseful because he was the busy one. No amount of assurances could convince him that Percy really did understand.
With him hosting Oliver's most prominent thoughts and feelings in the rear of his mind, it was quite startling when Oliver would go out and do his reckless superhero work. It was a constant stream of fuck and a litany of more swears that weaved a picture into Percy's mind about Oliver's escapades, allowing him to almost live them vicariously. Some self-doubt, pride, and always exhaustion by the end of it.
Percy didn't know how he did it. They weren't even his emotions and yet by the end of it, he was tired even as an outsider looking in. The weariness was so bone-deep that sometimes Percy could swear he could feel it too, but maybe then he was just tired himself.
One thing Percy never registered, with over a year of sharing his head with Oliver, was his pain. Oliver got hurt sometimes, Percy knew this for sure, but for reasons unknown to him, he never registered it for himself because sensation was different. Pain is all in the brain, more connected to a person's nerves than any other feeling or emotion that Percy could pick up on. It was only a sensation, so he couldn't feel Oliver's.
So, sitting at his unbalanced desk and scratching away at his homework as he tuned out the Oliver part of his brain, the last thing he expected to feel was pain. It hit him like a brick. One minute he was writing about the effects of globalization on society and the next, his hand was shaking, aching dully as the Oliver part of his brain went off like a siren.
Percy had to remind himself it wasn't his pain, but it was so great that it was starting to register within his own body. He felt like he needed 400mg of ibuprofen— not that bad but still hurting. And if he was feeling this way then...
Clenching his teeth to distract from the ache, Percy consumed two pills from the medicine cabinet (he could help himself now, Oliver had to come later) before promptly putting a sweater on and slipping on his shoes, thankful that he was yet to change out of his school clothes. He needed to get to Oliver. Oliver was hurt. Oliver was so hurt that he, Percy, could register it, let alone feel it for himself. It was scary.
He snuck out the window. It was 22:00, so his mum wouldn't willingly let him out of the house, even if it was to urgently help Oliver. If he got there within a reasonable amount of time, Oliver's mum would let him in through the front door rather than him having to somehow climb two stories into Oliver's window.
With the help of his bike (his parents would notice the car missing), some adrenaline, and the constant reminder of Oliver's situation, Percy got to Oliver's at record breaking pace. Flinging his bike onto the lawn with abandon, he wasted no time in knocking on the door. It was a little harder than he intended, but he figured it was better than inviting himself in with the spare key he knew was hidden in a flower pot.
A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Mrs. Wood, clad in a night gown and a wine glass in hand. Upon seeing him, she frowned. She was confused.
"Er... Hi, Mrs. Wood," Percy waved weakly, going up on the ball's of his feet before reminding himself to relax his posture.
"Percy, dear? It's quite late, isn't it?" She asked, glancing back into the house. Behind her, Mr. Wood was stood a few feet away from the door, peering out over his wife's shoulder.
Percy fidgeted. "Yes, but," he paused, not knowing how to explain his presence without raising suspicion, "I just... I need to see Oliver."
Mrs. Wood hummed, questions on her lips, when a voice came from inside of the house. "Oh, let the boy in, Fiona. You know how those two get when a day goes by."
Percy was taken aback by that comment, but not exactly surprised. Mrs. Wood scowled as Mr. Wood came closer to the door.
"I was going to, Richard," she replied. They bickered back in forth for a minute, and Percy had to loudly clear his throat to get their attention again. "Oh, Oliver should be in his room, dear," Mrs. Wood told him, pausing to let him in. Before he'd even reached Oliver's room, he could hear the bickering start back up.
Upon arriving, he should've expected as much, but Oliver was not in his room. All there was to show that he'd even been in there that night was an open window and a hastily discarded practice kit.
Percy carefully shut the door behind him and deliberated locking it, but ultimately decided not to. Being safe far outweighed any implications that a locked door may entail, but Oliver's parents hadn't noticed his absence for the last few hours, so why would they bother to check now? Not to mention how Oliver must've been doing something similar to this everyday since he'd started his superhero career.
He shuffled over to Oliver's bed and collapsed onto it, backward and spread-eagled. Now all there was to do was wait.
The ibuprofen had done its job, apparently good for second-hand pain, so Percy was comfortable. Oliver's duvet was warm, mattress was soft and supportive, and Percy was tired. Still, he stayed up. He could tell that Oliver was on his way back, but he still wasn't safe, and he was still in pain.
Sighing, Percy closed his eyes. He just wanted to rest them a little...
Blinking awake rapidly to the sound of a sudden noise, Percy sat up just in time to watch Oliver swing his right leg through the windowsill and duck his head through with a curse. Some stumbling as he caught his balance and oriented himself, and then...
Oliver froze the moment his eyes landed on Percy who was sitting innocently on the bed, blinking at him blearily. Out of instinct, he was covering up the most notable parts of his suit a second later, fumbling through excuses and awkward jokes. Percy simply ignored them, standing up and slowly inching closer to Oliver, as if he was a cornered animal or something. That unnerved Oliver.
"Do you uh... like my suit?" Oliver managed, at a standstill. His breathing became shallower the closer Percy got, and the butterflies in his stomach seemed to be working overtime, almost a pleasant distraction from the agony that consumed his body.
Percy again ignored him, finally getting close enough to catch Oliver's wrist in his hand. He was very aware of how nervous his proximity was making Oliver, but even more so about how bad Oliver looked. Though he was quite handsome, Percy wasn't really a huge fan of the whole 'bloody and beaten' look.
With a grimace, he lifted Oliver's arm to further examine the scars that were slightly obscured by the sleeves of his suit. Oliver winced and hissed, causing Percy to loosen his grip on Oliver's wrist before continuing the rudimentary examination. He turned Oliver's arm each way before gently peeling back the skin-tight suit sleeve, revealing welts, bruises, and cuts ranging from pink to dark blue, quasi similar to the pattern of the cuts in Oliver's suit.
Oliver swallowed upon seeing how bad it was; the adrenaline didn't allow him to fully register the extent of his injuries. Percy, on the other hand, was frowning, nictating rapidly as if he had suddenly become more awake.
Abruptly dropping Oliver's arm, Percy reached for the other, ready to do the same thing when this time, Oliver took his wrist.
"I reckon it looks the same everywhere. Don't stress about it," Oliver told him placatingly.
Percy looked at him like he was senile. "Don't stress about it? How in the world can I not?" He then snatched his wrist from Oliver's hold, crossing his arms as he scanned the rest of Oliver's body. He noticed how Oliver was avoiding putting weight on one foot, and how there was a slight break in his knee on the other leg.
Oliver grew suddenly defensive, a little embarrassed at the way Percy was looking at him as if he was the most pitiful thing he'd ever seen. "Why are you here, anyway?" He asked, throwing his hands up. He immediately regretted it; his shoulders hurt really badly.
"You need help," Percy replied as if it explained everything. To him it did, but to Oliver it sounded like avoidance.
Scoffing, Oliver retorted, "Next you'll tell me that water is wet."
"...That's subjective, but I'm glad you can admit that you need help," responded Percy.
Oliver bit his lip at the technicality, annoyed. He moved to walk away, if only to make a point, but Percy was by his side in a heartbeat, throwing one of Oliver's arms over his shoulder and pulling his weight.
"I walked 3 miles to get here. Twenty feet to the bathroom won't kill me," Oliver grumbled. He still heavily leaned on Percy.
"But I'm here now. So sit," Percy ordered, lightly shoving Oliver to deposit him on the windowsill. "I'd put you on your bed, but you're far too dirty."
Oliver raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing as Percy walked over to the bathroom, reaching in to turn on the light before he even stepped foot in it. Oliver laughed because he always found it funny that Percy was scared of the dark, then stopped because it felt like his stomach was going to split open.
As Percy rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, Oliver stared ahead, the overzealous butterflies now gnawing at his stomach lining. He could envision how Percy would insist this happen, and he was dreading it just as much as he was looking forward to it.
To distract himself and for the sake of his butt, Oliver moved from the windowsill and wiped everything from his desk, deciding to sit there instead. Percy probably hadn't even considered it as an option, but it was the best one (behind his bed) for Oliver.
When Percy finally came from the bathroom, in his hands he juggled a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, the first aid kit, and rolls of pressure dressing.
"Couldn't find the kinesiology tape?"
"Do I need it?"
"About as much as you need the wrap."
Percy sighed, tilting his stack of things to discard the rolls on the bed before making his way over to Oliver. He sat the rest of the stuff on the desk space that Oliver wasn't taking up.
"I take it you have some kind of healing factor, then? You'll probably be back at practice tomorrow," Percy remarked while he unscrewed the cap to the alcohol.
"You're awfully normal about all this," Oliver pointed out, tamping down the urge to kick his feet. He wondered if Percy had known about his alter ego, but all Percy offered him was a shrug.
Diluting the alcohol, Percy reasoned, "Well, you're all dirty. Your wounds could probably still get infected, right? So we'll dress them and let the sprains and breaks heal themselves. Unless they need setting?"
Oliver shook his head at the last question before asking, "Why don't you just use the peroxide?"
"The alcohol is better for your skin," Percy explained. "I'd use soap and water, but your soap is shite. All flowery, good for nothing trash."
"I think my skin can take it," Oliver joked. "And the alcohol still burns a little, even if I'm... like this."
"I'm using the alcohol, Oliver," Percy murmured tiredly, taking out a cotton pad to soak in the solution. As soon as he'd taken Oliver's wrist to begin cleaning his cuts, Oliver had recoiled.
At Percy's startled expression, Oliver, with his face flushed in embarrassment at his reaction, took the cotton pad. "Um... I think I can take it from here."
Percy nodded slowly, relenting, "I—yes, of course." In the back of his head, he could hear Oliver's internal panic. To his relief, he couldn't feel the stinging of the alcohol on Oliver's scars.
"So," Oliver began casually after a silence had settled between them. Oliver was pressing the pad all up and down his arm, and eventually replaced it when he'd overused it. Percy just watched, grateful that he didn't have as visceral of a reaction when Oliver touched him. "How long have you known about—me?"
It was a guess on Oliver's part, but it was correct. "I didn't..." Percy began to deny, before thinking whatever of it and deciding to say: "A while."
Oliver was shocked at that, especially because...
No matter. He filed it away in his brain and decided to test the extent of Percy's knowledge. "How? I tried so hard to keep it from you."
To protect you from it, went unsaid, but Percy heard it. Clearing his throat, Percy teased him, "You weren't very discreet," but it fell flat.
Oliver frowned, but said nothing, continuing to press at the cuts on his arms until they were all sanitized. After setting aside the last cotton pad, he went to move on before pausing, cheeks turning red.
"What?" Percy prompted. The answer came to him a split second later, but not verbally. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Oliver, just take the suit off."
Embarrassed, Oliver began to slip the suit off, pausing when the top half was pooled at his waist, revealing his bare chest and toned muscles.
Trying not to think about Oliver's abs, Percy urged him to hurry up. "You're acting like I've never seen you in your underwear before."
"I don't wear..." Oliver trailed off.
Realization dawned on Percy. "Oh." Oliver sat there awkwardly, and Percy shared the sentiment that time. "Well maybe we just focus on the top half for now?" Percy finally suggested.
Oliver readily agreed, taking a pad and dabbing it on the scars on his chest and stomach. When he was done, he paused for a third time.
"What now?" Percy groaned.
Oliver grimaced, dreading asking what he had to. "Can you help me get my back?"
Percy wanted to laugh about how unusually bashful Oliver was being, but he only shut up and agreed to help. "Turn around," he instructed Oliver after Oliver had tensely sat still for a moment, waiting for Percy to touch him.
"Oh, right," Oliver laughed nervously, shifting around. He had to cross his legs so that he could fit on the desk, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Percy's hand on his bare back. It was there to steady him, but it made him even woozier. This was going to be rough.
For Oliver's sake, Percy decided to make it as quick as possible and minimize any skin-to-skin contact. But the guy was just so skittish!
"Okay, I'm trying to make this quick Oliver," Percy sighed frustratedly, pausing when Oliver straightened his spine and flinched from his touch for the fourth time in ten seconds. "Stop. Moving."
"I'm sorry!" Oliver moaned, covering his face. If he was being honest, Percy's touch was too soft and too slight. It was better when he'd moved on from his neck, but it still tickled and sent shivers up his spine. And it was Percy. Just as he was dreading, the touch felt... good.
Maybe it was because he was touch-starved, maybe it was that his nerves were heightened and adrenaline was still flowing, or maybe it was Percy’s warmth on his bare back that caused straying thoughts, but when Oliver turned back around, he had to pray that Percy didn't notice his half-fledged erection. Percy only pretended not to.
He tried to help Oliver once he processed what was happening, but Oliver seemed to derive some sort of pleasure from it no matter how Percy went about it. It really wasn't his fault.
"Now for your face," Percy announced, attempting to take both of their attentions away from Oliver's situation.
"I can do it!" Oliver hastened to volunteer, but Percy was already drenching a cotton pad in just water.
"You can't even see your face," Percy complained, wiping away at the dried and crusted blood that obscured Oliver's features. This in particular was bothering Percy. Oliver could wash off the rest in the shower. "Let me help you, prat."
"Oi!" Oliver called weakly in protest at being called a prat, but otherwise said nothing.
Pressing closer to be able to identify and reach the more minor cuts on Oliver's face, Percy slotted himself in between Oliver's legs, careful to avoid giving either of them a reason to address 'little Oliver.'
Oliver's breath got caught in his throat. He felt like screaming, but that wouldn't help. He couldn't make a face like he wanted to, because that would interfere with Percy's work and cause a chastisement, which he couldn't take.
It was easier when Percy was just rubbing the water on his face, because Oliver could close his eyes under the pretense of avoiding getting water in them. Now he couldn't, because that would make things weirdly intimate, even more than they already were.
Not knowing where to look, he settled on looking down. The first time, Percy only slightly nudged at his chin to get him to look up again, but it wasn't long until Oliver was looking down again. Percy in between his legs, his breath ghosting against his skin, his intense gaze fixed on Oliver's face—Oliver couldn't take it.
Percy just about had it. He really did sympathize with Oliver, but looking down wasn't helping either of them. "Look up, Oliver," he directed, taking Oliver's chin in between his fingers and tilting his head up. His hand didn't linger long, but enough for Oliver to fixate on the sensation. "You don't have to be afraid to look at me."
"Sorry," Oliver mumbled apologetically, but his mind was elsewhere. Doing as he was told, he kept his head tilted upward the way Percy had positioned it. He couldn't help his eyes flickering down to Percy's lips, though. He couldn't help them staying there, either.
Percy carried on as if oblivious, despite being fully aware of what was going on in Oliver's head. There was that overwhelming feeling again, only this time Percy's head wasn't pounding the more the thoughts cemented themselves in Oliver's brain. Percy just hoped Oliver didn't...
"I love you," Oliver blurted, so sudden that even he seemed to be caught off guard.
Percy momentarily paused, stunned at the abrupt confession. However, steeling himself, he continued wiping at the cuts around Oliver's eyebrow and temple. He could definitely feel the tension between them, especially with Oliver's reminder almost pressing into his hip several times, but if he could help it, he wouldn't address feelings that night. He was tired.
So, he simply answered, "I know."
Oliver frowned, inadvertently helping Percy swipe the pad across his elbow. Percy's flippancy chafed him, and almost saddened him. Reality began to set in. Here he was, confessing his feelings to the person closest to him, risking everything they'd ever had together. But he wasn't scared. He'd nearly died that night, so he was going to rip the bandaid off and tell his friend that he was his one true love (besides footy) if he so wished.
"No, Perce, I — I don't think you understand. I'm... in love with you. Have been for a while," Oliver declared, closing his eyes and holding his breath when Percy paused for the second time. Only when he felt a hand cupping his face did he relax, exhaling as he allowed for Percy to brush circles over his cheekbone.
While Oliver was calm, seemingly content with Percy's initial reaction, Percy was at a loss. His first thought was to assure Oliver that they were okay, because that was what the boy had been scared of before. But after resting his hand on Oliver's face, he didn't know what he could say, how he could express that he felt the same way.
Oliver, who still had his eyes closed and was practically nuzzling Percy's hand, took it in stride when Percy settled his forehead against his. They inhaled in tandem, breathing each other in, and it was the most intimate thing that Oliver had ever experienced—so good that it had distracted him from the fact that Percy was yet to say anything. For Oliver, this was enough.
Percy kept his mouth shut, biting back another 'I know,' which would be followed by a spiel about how he'd known for more than a year and how he felt the same way. Instead, he allowed himself to bask in the moment—bask in Oliver and their shared feelings.
They stood that way for a while, Oliver's legs on either side of Percy with their foreheads pressed so close that their noses were grazing. Oliver brought a hand up to hold Percy's waist. The gap between their lips was small, but neither acted on their shared desire to close it. They were so close, yet Percy wanted to be closer; He took a step forward, the front of his thighs pressing against the edge of the desk.
Immediately, Oliver's eyes squeezed tighter, and he made a strangled noise at the back of his throat as Percy's hips made contact with his now full-fledged erection, a pleasureful feeling erupting in his groin. Percy flinched backwards before giggling in good humour, but all Oliver felt was mortification. Stupid arousal ruined the moment.
"M'sorry," Oliver said hastily, dropping his hands to cover his nether regions. The suit perfectly delineated the bulge, leaving nothing for imagination and Oliver was even more embarrassed. It felt like having it out, basically. "I didn't mean to—"
"Oh, it's... you're alright," Percy smiled awkwardly, taking a step back to finish up with Oliver's face.
Oliver didn't feel alright, though, because Percy wasn't as close and had gone back to acting like the tension wasn't there. It was frustrating. At the moment, he was seriously considering castration if it meant more time with Percy pressed against him like that.
They didn't talk while Percy was finishing up, Oliver too mortified and Percy silently wondering what the fuck he was just doing.
"Done," Percy announced with flourish, delicately placing a bandaid above Oliver's eyebrow. For decoration.
Oliver subtly leaned into the touch, but it was over just as quickly as it had happened. Smiling weakly, he said, "Thanks, Perce."
Percy cleared his throat, gathering up all the cotton pads they'd gone through. "I'll leave you with the bottom half, then," he said, turning to walk away.
"Oh, no cuts, actually. Just a broken leg and sprained ankle," Oliver called after him matter-of-factly, a weird attempt at trying to get him to stay.
It didn't work. "...Right," Percy answered, still on his way to the bathroom.
When Percy's form disappeared, Oliver buried his face in his hands and quickly went through the motions of sobbing. He couldn't work up the tears. After, he slipped the suit back over his shoulders and stood up, just as Percy walked out of the bathroom again.
"I can fly you home," Oliver offered.
Percy stared at him standing up, slightly confused. "Oh, I thought I'd just stay, if that's alright. Fly me home in the morning?"
"Oh. Of course," Oliver agreed, feeling even stupider than before.
"Sit back down," Percy fussed, leading him back to the desk. "I'll clean up the rest, since we don't need it anymore."
Oliver silently obeyed, watching as Percy gathered the aid kit, alcohol, and everything else to put back in the bathroom. When Percy was gone again, Oliver looked around his room as if it had the answers he was looking for. He absolutely needed to address what happened between them—was buzzing to, in fact—but how to go about it without completely destroying the gram of dignity he still had?
He came to when Percy's shoes appeared in his vision, and he looked up, a strained smile on his face.
"You should probably get cleaned up. Shed the suit," Percy recommended once Oliver had looked at him. He shuffled from side to side when the silence stretched longer than anticipated.
"Okay," Oliver nodded, but made no move to try and stand.
Percy looked at him expectantly. "Do you need help, or..."
"Can we talk about that?" Oliver asked, throwing caution to the wind.
Although knowing what Oliver meant, Percy didn't know how to respond. He could get to the crux of the matter by simply giving Oliver what he wanted, a kiss and a confession, but Percy would rather see how it played out on Oliver's accord.
"About what?" Percy decided to answer, playing dumb.
Oliver made a few gestures as he flailed for a response. "Our... interaction."
Percy opened his mouth, feigning realization. "Ohh. That."
Oliver slid off his desk yet again, so that only a foot separated them. He reiterated, "I told you that I'm in love with you."
Percy looked down at their feet, at the distance between them. He looked at the distance between their bodies, and finally their faces. It was scarce. Swallowing, he placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder, saying, "You should really sit down."
"Oh, I'm fine!" Oliver scoffed, shrugging off Percy's hand. "I can't even feel it anymore. Now, stop avoiding the topic."
Percy sighed, resigned. "What do you want me to say, Oliver?"
"What do you think I want you to say, Percy? Say what you want to say!" Oliver countered with growing frustration. He wasn't one to beat around the bush, and Percy wasn't being as forthcoming as he'd hoped.
"You're still hard," Percy commented thoughtlessly, much to Oliver's chagrin.
Oliver had to admit, he thought it'd have gone away by now, but it persisted. Maybe he was into the mortification aspect of it all. He tried to not let the comment deter him, but he was near done with Percy's evasion of the line of questioning. "Anything else?"
"...Yes," Percy eventually said. Oliver's exasperation was tangible and at that point, could lead them down many different paths. Giving up on coaxing a dramatic initiation from Oliver, Percy decided to go against the policy he stood by for the past year, and take matters into his own hands. In a second, the space between them disappeared.
Oliver hadn't anticipated Percy crashing his lips onto his. He gasped as he hurried to reciprocate, legs nearly giving out as the kiss had quite literally taken his breath away, leaving him dizzy and feeling asthenic. But as soon as Oliver had caught his rhythm, raising his hands to feel and cradle Percy, Percy was pulling back.
"What..." Oliver started to protest, but one look into Percy's dilated eyes shut him up.
"You should really sit down," Percy stressed, pressing his hand against Oliver's chest to guide him back onto the desk.
This time, Oliver obliged, hoisting himself up slowly, watching Percy's movements carefully. As soon as he was settled on the desk with enough room for Percy to move closer, Percy did, connecting their lips again with fervor. Oliver's fingers enclosed Percy's wrist, keeping Percy's hand glued to his chest as their kisses grew longer and longer. Oliver hoped that Percy was able to feel his heart racing. Percy did.
As Oliver's other hand settled on Percy's waist, they ended up back where they started, only this time they were kissing. And when inevitably, Percy came in contact with Oliver's wood again, he didn't jerk back or let it bother him. Not even when Oliver started softly moaning into his mouth as he 'subtly' started gyrating his hips, slowly getting himself off on Percy's.
Percy could've easily told him to stop, but he could somehow feel the extent of Oliver's pleasure in the back of his mind. Somewhere along the way, it had translated into his own, as his hardening cock started to seek relief as well.
At some point, Oliver stopped trying to hide what he was doing and started blatantly chasing release. Percy had obviously realized what he was doing and was in a similar state himself, so what was the point in hiding it?
Burying his face in Percy's shoulder to muffle the sounds, Oliver resisted the temptation to bite. He didn't want to be loud—his parents were home, after all— but with Percy palming at him over the fine fabric of his suit, it was becoming increasingly difficult to control himself.
When Percy's hand picked up speed, the increased friction combined with the stimulation of the cloth rubbing against him had Oliver falling over the edge. A high-pitched whimper, a stutter of the hips, and then it was over. He'd painted the inside of his suit with seed.
Percy, who'd started leaking pre ever since Oliver had reached his climax, watched Oliver lustfully as he caught his breath, their heavy panting filling his ears. He was surprised when a second later, Oliver was reaching over and fumbling with the buckle of his belt, wasting no time in moving on. Must've been the superhero stamina.
Just as Percy had reached down to help, they both froze as they heard the door swing open. Heads snapped up; a gobsmacked Mr. Wood stood stock still, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.
Reality struck all of them simultaneously. Percy sprung back, away from the desk, while Oliver threw his hands over his crotch, covering his member that was already hardening again. Not anymore.
"Oh, bloody hell!" Mr. Wood cursed, covering his eyes with his hand and backing out, slamming the door shut. But the damage was already done.
The room was quiet for a moment after the door shut. Percy and Oliver slowly looked at each other, both extremely embarrassed, but then embarrassment quickly turned into panic on Percy's face.
"Your suit! Ollie, he must've seen the suit!" Percy exclaimed, gesturing to Oliver's attire.
Oliver scoffed. "That’s what you're worried about?"
"Yes," Percy replied vehemently, smacking Oliver's shoulder. He put his hands on his head, "Teenagers have—whatever we just did. They don't fight crime at night! Oh, fuck me, this is terrible!"
"Calm down," Oliver soothed, removing Percy's hands from his head. "He won't remember."
"What do you mean, ‘he won't remember?’" Percy let his hands be held. His mind was in such disarray at the humiliation that he couldn't decipher whatever it was that Oliver was thinking in his brain. He let him talk.
"I've tried several times to tell my parents about who I am. My powers, the superhero thing, all of it. But every time, they just seem to forget it," Oliver explained quietly.
That eased Percy's panic, only to fill him with a sense of trepidation at the implications of that statement. "Really?"
Oliver nodded, bringing Percy's hand up to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on it. With a sigh and slight smile, he continued, "Which is why I was so surprised that you knew about my identity, and even more so when you told me how long you've known. I mean, even if I didn't conceal it well, you still shouldn't have known. Strange, isn't it?"
"Strange, indeed." Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. Oliver's mind was racing with theories—none of which Percy could pinpoint. But he didn't need his powers to realize that he was dangerously close to being found out. Whatever Oliver concluded, it would be a verisimilitude, and that was slightly terrifying. He hoped Oliver didn't feel the sudden moisture of his palms.
"But it's fantastic! I have somebody to share it with," Oliver gushed.
Percy made a strangled noise. "Mhm."
"Maybe it's 'cause we're in love," Oliver carried on pointedly, ignoring the weird noise Percy made. He stared at Percy, gauging his reaction, but Percy's gaze remained fixed on their hands.
"...Right," Percy agreed slowly. After a moment of debate, Percy exhaled sharply before telling him, "Oliver, there's something you should probably know."
"Are you like me?" Oliver questioned, so quick that it was apparent that it had been on his mind.
Percy was stunned, but also not. He hesitated before replying, "Well, nobody's like you." And he meant it, but Oliver wasn't satisfied with the answer.
"Cheeky," Oliver remarked sarcastically. "You know what I mean. Do you have a, um, special ability?"
Percy released a long-suffering sigh, because it felt right at the moment. It helped release the pressure in his chest that developed with the stress of the situation. "I think that we should clean up."
"Blimey, Percy, stop doing that!" Oliver rolled his eyes at the deflection. "That's probably the tenth time tonight. Just answer the question!"
"How about you just take a shower?" Percy rebutted. "Then we'll talk."
"Whatever," Oliver grumbled, getting to his feet without any hassle. He was all healed up now. As he walked to the bathroom, he joked, "Your avoidance speaks volumes, by the way."
Percy pursed his lips.
When the door to the bathroom opened, Percy peaked one eye open from his resting place on Oliver's bed. Steam let out, followed by Oliver who was clad in nothing but a towel around his waist. Ignoring the water droplets that enticingly raced down Oliver's chest, Percy noticed that the cuts and bruises that seemed so bad just an hour or two ago were now practically all faded, and Oliver looked a lot better without dirt, grime, and blood caked all over him.
"Are you sleeping?" Oliver asked flatly, ambling over to his wardrobe without a second glance at Percy sprawled out on his bed.
Percy didn't feel like answering. Oliver'd find out eventually, and he'd talk regardless.
"Well, I've been doing some thinking, and I've decided that you're definitely like me. It's so strange how we, two people with superpowers, found each other and fell in love. It's like it was fated, right?"
Percy hummed. "I never said that I was in love with you."
Oliver paused in putting on his underwear. "...But you are, no?"
"Unfortunately," Percy confirmed, chortling to himself about the slight panic that had taken over Oliver.
"Say it," Oliver demanded, walking over to the bed. He threw his towel on the floor and his suit in a pile of clothes, hopefully to be washed.
Percy got off the bed the minute Oliver laid down in it to strip himself down to the same state of dress as Oliver. This is how they'd typically sleep, but this time felt a little different. It was a little different.
"Do I have to?" He grumbled as he neatly folded his clothes.
"I don't know," Oliver tsked, watching Percy. "Did it mean nothing to you when you let me hump you?"
"Don't say that out loud," Percy chastised, slightly embarrassed at the way Oliver had described their previous performance.
When Percy got into bed, Oliver shut the light off on his bedside lamp before lying down again. He wrapped his arm around Percy's waist, something he'd never done before, and asked again. "Say it. Please?"
Percy closed his eyes. "I'm in love with you," he rushed out, and when he opened his eyes again, Oliver was beaming at him.
"Was that so hard?" Oliver teased, poking at Percy's side. It elicited a small giggle; Percy was pretty ticklish. "Now, back to your quote unquote, special ability."
With how tired he was and how Oliver was caressing his side, Percy felt strangely calm at the time, and his mind was slightly hazy. He had no problem admitting, "I can read minds."
Oliver's eyebrows shot up at that. "You're a telepath?"
"It's... yeah?" Percy stifled a laughed at Oliver's surprise as he explained, "I mean, really it starts with empathy, right? And the stronger of a connection I have with somebody, the more of their thoughts I can discern."
"Wow," Oliver whistled before smirking, "I bet you can read my mind really well."
Percy cleared his throat before deadpanning, "You have no fucking idea."
Oliver again raised his eyebrows. "Well, you know what I'm going to ask next," he said. "Tell me."
"Well, I have a pretty good grasp on my powers, I'd like to think, but it feels like you've completely upended my understanding," Percy began. "It's about the connection, right? So at first, it wasn't so bad. I was able to block out your thoughts and feelings just like I'd normally do with everybody else," he paused to decide how in depth he wanted to get. Oliver watched him with rapt enthusiasm. "But then we were just the closest of friends—the closest I've ever been to anyone, ever. Even my mom. It was so hard to keep you out that it gave me migraines."
"Sorry, but I must say, that's flattering," Oliver commented when Percy paused in his storytelling for the second time.
Percy didn't warrant that with an immediate response, instead continuing with his story. "You're a very guilty person, Oliver, and it only grew the more I got to know you. I started planning those 'dates' for us to make you happier, but it also just made the guilt worse. Thinking about it, that’s flattering."
Oliver frowned. "How?"
"Because you felt bad for hiding your secret from me. I felt bad, because I could've liberated you from your guilt, but..."
"You didn't want to tell me about you?" Oliver guessed.
Percy nodded. "So, yeah. I felt your guilt more when you got into the superhero stuff, and I thought it was just that, but it was everything. Stupidly, I didn't realize that it was because our connection was strengthening."
"I feel like I could've told you that," Oliver interjected smartly, earning himself a light pinch in the arm.
"Anyway," Percy rolled his eyes. "That day when we were at the soccer field and I fainted, I couldn't maintain it anymore. It was like your mind just ruptured, and I could hear your thoughts and feel your emotions so vividly. That was either when you fell in love with me or when you realized you did."
"When I realized," Oliver answered for him. Scrunching his nose, he said, "I can't believe you knew for that long. I'm almost embarrassed."
"You should be," Percy informed him. "Your thoughts... I was embarrassed for you."
Oliver grew red, recounting all the incriminating things he'd thought of from the moment he realized he was in love with Percy. He could imagine that it truly was that bad.
"But the worst part was that I heard your thoughts all the time. My powers, they have limits depending on my physical closeness to someone, but you... it's like a little part of you is at the back of my brain. I know everything at the forefront of your mind," Percy detailed. It felt good to get it off of his chest, especially because Oliver had to do with the struggle.
"...Everything?" Oliver echoed, uneasiness filling him as he imagined how uncomfortable that would be. He then realized that Percy could probably hear him think that.
"You're right. It is uncomfortable," Percy told him, affirming that he did in fact know what Oliver thought. He delighted in how it startled Oliver. "To make a long story short, I just learned how to cope by differentiating our thoughts and whatnot. I feel your emotions, not your sensations, which doesn't feel right because nerves, brain, whatever. But tonight, I felt your pain. It was scary, so that's why I'm here now."
"That's... a lot," Oliver said, and he'd meant it. Percy hadn’t even mentioned the part where he could feel Oliver’s pleasure.
Oliver had long since stopped caressing Percy’s side, but he started to do it again once Percy was finished with the story. It was more for him than for Percy, though.
Through Oliver trying to process the information, Percy again couldn't tell exactly how he was feeling. He decided to ask the question that nagged at him since he'd first become friends with Oliver:
"Do you think it's weird?"
"What's weird?" Oliver asked absentmindedly, in deep deliberation.
"That I know what you're thinking? Like don't you feel... I dunno, violated? Questioning our entire relationship, perhaps?" Percy grilled him with those questions, wanting to know if his biggest concerns were true.
"No, not at all," Oliver assured him quickly. "I mean, it's a little strange that you could read my mind, but... I think it's romantic."
Percy looked at him as though he was dumb. "You think it's romantic that I know everything you're thinking?"
"You know what's at the forefront of my mind," Oliver corrected. "And yes, I do. It's almost as though I'm a part of you. You don't have that with anybody else. What we have is special."
"And if somebody else decides to fall in love with me and make me hear all their thoughts?" Percy challenged jokingly.
"Hmm," Oliver pretended to think. "I don't think anybody could ever love you more than me. Not even your mum. Your powers understand that, and so gave me the space in your mind."
"Nice theory," Percy accepted. "Thanks for sharing."
"Thank you for sharing. This has been the most fruitful day of my life," Oliver replied seriously, leaning in slightly to place a chaste kiss on Percy's lips. Then another. Then another.
"It does feel nice to get this off of my chest," Percy admitted, turning his head away from a sixth kiss with a smirk.
Oliver didn't let it bother him, propping himself up to kiss all over the side of Percy's face.
"Oliver," Percy groaned, covering his face to ward off any more.
"Okay, sorry." Oliver relaxed back into his original position before acknowledging Percy's previous statement, "Yes, I feel the same way. I mean, I didn't even think I could tell anyone—especially about my powers. So I never tried with you."
"I've never even tried," Percy confessed sheepishly. "Well, except for Bill. I thought he was just being a git when he said he didn't believe me."
"So, he's vindicated," Oliver joked. "I can't believe you've been content with keeping it to yourself."
Percy shrugged. "I don't think it's necessary for anyone to know. But if I had to share this with anyone, I'm glad it's you."
Oliver's heart swelled at the admission. He took it as a compliment. Gathering Percy in his arms, he dropped one final kiss to his forehead. "Me too."
"I'm surprised that didn't turn you on," Percy taunted, snorting at the reminder of earlier that night, which felt like forever ago. He really was tired… again.
Oliver didn't quite raise to the bait. "I'm not going to say what I want to say aloud, but you know what I want to say."
Percy knew before it even reverberated around the back of his brain: something along the lines of sod off.
"Good night, Oliver," Percy wished, contemplating whether or not to say what he wanted to say. He did. "I love you."
With bated breath, he waited for a response.
I love you too.