Grateful
Percy woke to a firm hand on his shoulder and gasping for breath.
“Percy, Percy luv. Wake up, yer alright. Yer alright.”
Percy dragged himself upright and felt the body behind him do the same. He took deep, shuddering breaths as the hand moved to rub reassuringly along his back.
“Was it the nightmare again?”
Still unable to answer, Percy merely nodded.
Lips pressed against his shoulder and murmured. “I’ll draw a bath.”
The solid weight at his back shuffled out of bed and left Percy alone in the room. For which Percy was grateful. He was grateful to Oliver for a lot of things. But knowing when Percy needed a few moments to comport himself was right up there at the top of the list.
After a few moments, Percy moved to the edge of the bed. Swinging his feet down to the floor he reached blindly for his glasses. He sat there for a few moments, his hands buried in his sweaty hair until heavy footsteps in the hall alerted him to Oliver’s return.
Oliver’s hands slid down his arms to grasp his elbows and he pulled Percy to his feet.
“Come on, luv.”
Percy let himself be led down the hall and into the bathroom. Oliver had lit only a few candles, knowing that Percy wouldn’t want the harsh light intruding on them now.
Yet another reason to be grateful to his lover.
Oliver peeled Percy out of his pyjama’s slowly, discarding the sweaty material into the basket in the corner of the room. He helped Percy into the bath and then shucked his own boxers―he slept in far less than Percy did―and he climbed in to settle behind Percy.
They lay there for a while, just existing in the quiet of the room until Oliver picked up the washcloth from the side of the bath and began running it over Percy’s chest.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, tone even and unassuming.
Percy drew in a shaky breath, he hadn’t ever explained the dream in detail before. “It’s the battle. Fred… he…”
He broke off and Oliver hushed him. Assuring him that it was alright and he didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to. But the thing of it was, he did. It had been sitting in him for too long unsaid. The words were itching to spill out of him but Percy had kept them locked up for too long. Afraid of the hurt they might cause to others… and to himself, if he uttered them out loud.
“He’s just… he’s staring at me. His eyes… all I can see is his eyes.”
Oliver didn’t say anything, but he didn’t stop running the washcloth over Percy.
“I… I relive it, over and over. In perfect detail and then the dream freezes on his face. On his grin. His last laugh is echoed in every line of his face, but his eyes… they’re wide… and shocked… and what if…”
He trailed off, the last words heavy on his tongue. Fear coating his mouth with a sudden dry fuzz.
“What if what, luv?”
Percy swallowed, and then swallowed again. Willing any amount of moisture into his mouth. “What if he hates me?”
His voice was small, and it cracked as he spoke.
Oliver abandoned the washcloth and wrapped his arms around Percy, squeezing him gently.
“He doesn’t hate you. He never could―”
Percy struggled for a moment, trying to sit up. “But I left them! I left them and they―”
“You came back though,” Oliver said. “When it mattered most, you were there fighting for what was right and you came back. Fred knew that.”
“But I got him killed… That stupid joke I made… It distracted him.”
“None of that now.” Oliver admonished. “You can’t blame yourself. Fred’s death isn’t your fault. It's the fault of the Death Eater that threw the curse. Fred was in the wrong spot. There was nothing you could do, or did, that would have changed that. There are people alive today because of you. Those kids you saved from Rookwood. Fred would be proud of you for that. And for avenging him.”
Percy scrubbed his face and Oliver pulled him back against his chest.
“I just… I can’t stop seeing him like that. I keep thinking, keep wondering...”
He felt Oliver press another kiss to his collarbone.
“Why don’t we go see George today? It’s been a while. Maybe he needs you as much as you need him.”
Percy slumped fully against Oliver, he always knew what Percy needed. Had always been there for him, even when he was being a prat to his family. It was another thing Percy was grateful to him for.
“I’d like that.”
They lay there in silence for a while longer, the water slowly growing cool and the washcloth sliding around their legs as they shifted minutely.
Soon they got out, and it was as they were draining the water that Percy placed his hand on Oliver’s arm and drew him in close enough that their foreheads were touching.
“I love you.”
Oliver smiled. “Aye, I know.”