[falmouth] don't show and tell me [oliver]

march 2001

Without even opening her eyes, Quinn could tell that the room was too bright. Damn her and her affinity for an overabundance of natural light. The sudden remembrance of too many drinks in a much too short amount of time helped her make sense of things, but it surely didn't make her feel any better about it. And then she remembered the biggest detail of all: Oliver Wood. She didn't have to open her eyes to figure out why her bed felt comfier than it had in ages. Quinn was laying on her side, her arm draped over him, her head resting on his chest, which was slowly rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm, one of Oliver's arms loosely wrapped around her.

Oops.

One by one she opened her eyes, hoping she would prove herself wrong. But no, there he was in his all his rugged glory. His face looked just as nice as she remembered, too, as did everything else she could see without moving. And unfortunately, she couldn't think of one thing about the previous night that she didn't enjoy, and that was the most worrying aspect of all. Surely it had been a good idea at the time, but now, in the light of day, just what the hell were they thinking? Slowly she retrieved her arm, doing her best not to wake the sleeping man beneath her. She rolled onto her back, pinning Oliver's arm under her, only to now be lying side by side with Puddlemere United's keeper.

Quinn had not thought this far ahead. The only thing she had considered for the morning after her blind date was that she didn't have practice until later that afternoon so she would have some free time in the morning to do laundry, pick up more floo powder, and have a good quiet hour of yoga before she needed to be anywhere. But this, this definitely threw a wrench into all her plans. Not even just her plans for the morning, but all her plans. That had been fun, more enjoyable than any night she had in quite a while, and he had even surprised her with his moves more than once.

But he hadn't been considerate enough to sneak out an hour after she had fallen asleep, like any courteous one night stand should do. She drew her hands up to her face, covering her eyes as she let out a sigh. I have to get rid of him, she told herself as the smallest part of her broke out in protest. Why should he leave? She vaguely remembered making sure he had no early morning practice either, so who was she to kick him out minutes after waking up from what was probably the most incredible night of his life?

Oh, that's right, she was Quinn Regan. Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. Seeker for Ireland. And he was Oliver Wood. She knew almost nothing about him except his quidditch record and the finer details of his body. And what fine details they were. No, she scolded herself. Time to focus. She lowered her hands, slowly reopening her eyes as she lifted the sheet to confirm her suspicion that she was still not wearing anything, and to maybe sneak a peek at the form next to her. Once that was out of her system, she only needed to now convince herself to get out of bed, which was easier said than done.

She didn't know how long she laid there, just listening to the the sound of Oliver's breathing, almost drifting back to sleep. There was a soft tap, tap, tap at the window, but it was just loud enough to bother Quinn enough to get out of bed. She sat up slowly, the owl's tapping at the window becoming only more insistent. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was a message about an unscheduled practice and she groaned as she finally convinced her body to cooperate and stand up.

She reached for the closest piece of clothing and threw it on, not giving a second thought to the fact that it was Oliver's shirt from the past evening, and tried to move as slowly and quietly as she could to the window, still not wanting to wake him up for some reason still unknown to her. it wasn't one of the team's owls, though, but Elmar, Elias's owl. That was definitely not what she was expecting, but she still took the letter from him all the same. She opened it as soon as she had pulled it inside; it was short and she read it quickly, the phrases I'm guessing that Oliver would be happy to see you again and I haven't spoken to Oliver yet and perfect date jumping out at her.

This was more than enough reason to wake Oliver. She crossed the room, back to the bed, and perched on the edge next to him. She didn't want to yell, or shake him awake, but she still had no idea what possessed her to lean down and kiss his cheek.

Double oops.

@Oliver Wood 

Bright was the first thought that popped into the wizard’s head as consciousness pulled him from his slumber. He was fairly sure it has been what woke him up, but couldn’t really be sure. He was momentarily confused as to why his pillow smelled distinctly female, and why he could hear the soft sounds of someone moving around the room. But it all came back when he felt Quinn’s lips on his cheek. Oh. OH. Brown eyes opened in surprise, blinking up at her, half alert and half asleep. He would pay for the quickness with which they had drunk their drinks last night, he could feel it. Still too groggy to process much beyond the immediate, he looked at Quinn and realized she was wearing his shirt from the night before. Offering her a lazy grin he rubbed at his face and propped himself up on his elbow “Mornin’…Nice shirt..” his accent noticeably thicker.

If he’d had to admit it, it was quite the sight, but he wasn’t sure where they stood now, as bits and pieces of their night flashed through his mind like a movie. He didn’t regret spending the night with her, it had been fun, and probably one of the best dates/nights he’d spent with anyone in a long time. But he also knew that what they’d done might not be something that they wanted to continue. They weren’t necessarily right for one another just because they’d slept together the night before, and they hadn’t even really had a chance to find out if they had anything in common beyond Quidditch. Oliver found himself feeling as conflicted as he had the night before, though this time he didn’t have any alcohol to act as a buffer. What were they doing?

Oliver didn’t have an answer to his own question, and decided to ignore that fact for a bit longer. Stretching, he noticed that Quinn was holding a piece of parchment in her hand, and had wondered if that had been what prompted her to try and wake him. Frowning in curiosity, he gestured to the letter with a hand “What’s that?” While he waited for Quinn to answer, the keeper debated whether or not Quinn would kick him out of her bed yet, or if he could stay comfortably under the covers for a few more moments before having to get dressed. He decided it was worth the risk, and stayed where he was, enjoying the warmth, and their proximity.

He didn’t know what he wanted to happen between him and Quinn from here, but he was having an awfully hard time being sorry about what had happened. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch Quinn, and part of him protested, not wanting to do anything that she might perceive as overly affectionate. So instead, he tried to settle for something he hoped was endearing by reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Why he cared what Quinn thought at all was still quite the mystery to him.

"Er," was all that she could think to say. Oliver's eyes opened while her lips were still on his cheek. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, considering she had been trying to wake him up anyway, but it still caught her by surprise. She straightened up, at least getting her mouth a safe distance away from his. She didn't trust her lips anymore; they kept making bad decision after bad decision and they needed to stop. "Oh shut up, Wood," she replied, shooting him a look as she realized that she had managed to put on his shirt. She was cold, she needed a shirt, nothing special.

She almost didn't hear him ask about the letter, much too focused on her internal struggle with the entire situation. Hopefully he had decided for himself, one way or the other, about whether or not last night was a good idea. That would make it so much easier if she didn't have to decide things for herself. But did that mean that she would be okay if he decided it was a good idea? Part of her actually wanted him to say it was, but that was the wrong part of her, obviously.

Well, if she wasn't supposed to be on board with this whole thing, why did her heart skip a beat when he reached up to push her hair behind her ear for her? Quinn leaned forward without the slightest idea what her plan was. She reached out her arm across him to rest her palm on the empty bed beside him, helping prop herself up. She wanted to kiss him, to reenact the most exciting parts of the previous night.

No. She straightened up, clearing her throat, finally remembering the letter.

She waved the letter in front of him, "This," she waved it some more, "Is a letter from your lovely roommate, checking up on me." She held the letter still, holding it up so that she could read it to him, dramatically of course, emphasizing the parts she thought most important, like "perfect date." It was too much, right? It was already too much that he had tricked them into this in the first place, and now he had to be all smug about it? "Uuugh," she groaned, flopping down on the bed next to him, the letter still clenched in her hand. She passed it over, just in case he wanted to read it for himself.

And then Quinn realized that she had just managed to get back in bed with Oliver Wood. She sat up straight, before thinking better of it and getting off the bed completely. The bed was not a safe place if she wanted to figure out just what all of this was. But just as soon as she had turned around, she saw his face again, his still perfect face. How was it possible that it look that perfect after the late night they had? It was more than enough to convince her to sit down again, this time even closer than her last attempt.

"I really just want to write him back and tell him you're still here," she stated with a grin. "He'd hate that."

“Just pointing out the obvious” he said, laughing as he threw his hands up in mock defeat. He knew he’d need to get up soon, at least to get dressed, if nothing else. Not to mention this was most definitely not his bed, and judging by her greeting this morning, Quinn was going to want it back before the day was up. Just as he was about to push himself up and out of the warmth of the covers, though, Quinn was leaning across him, de-railing his current train of thought. It was clear that even now, as sober as he was she was still plenty distracting, as he thought about closing the short distance between them and kissing her, his eyes darting to her lips as thought cross his mind.

He supposed if anything, their morning had proven to him that he was still attracted to Quinn, even when he was sober, and not just a little. And Oliver had little to no clue what to do about it. He wasn’t supposed to go home with Quinn on the first date, let alone enjoy their date in the first place, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to want to do it again.

Silently cursing Elias, Oliver was both sad and grateful when Quinn moved back and brought up the letter, hoping it was something that would help him move on from all of his confusion and onto something less stressful, honestly. But as it became clearer and clearer that that was not the case Oliver’s brows rose as he listened to and watched Quinn read Elias’ missive. Perfect date, what an arse he thought somewhat affectionately. He supposed he did owe Elias a bit of thanks now that he and Quinn had spent the night together, but somehow Oliver got the impression that Elias would rather not have the details. At her dramatic groan, Oliver propped his head up with one arm behind his head, giving the letter a quick skim before handing it back.

It was definitely a letter from Elias, not only did the handwriting match, it was his writing style without a doubt. He turned his torso towards Quinn, part of him glad that they were both back in bed again, and the other was left wondering if she was trying to torture him. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he sure as hell knew that having a nearly naked Quinn in bed – her bed – certainly didn’t make that thought processes any easier. Particularly when the Irishwoman proceeded to bolt off the bed like he was contagious, only to return a moment later, sitting closer to him than she had been before.

Oliver wondered briefly if she was as confused as he was about their whole situation, not really sure that that could be possible for someone as strong-willed and stubborn as a Regan, but what did he know? He knew that she was sitting there in his shirt, still somehow looking adorably sleep worn, despite the fact that she’d been up, in the literal sense of the word, longer than he had. And before he realized he’d had the thought, the wizard found himself closing the space that separated him and Quinn and kissing her, if only briefly before leaning back into the pillows and offering her a mischievous grin “He would, wouldn’t he?” Oliver paused to think a moment before adding “When you’re done writing, bring me the bloody quill, and I’ll sign it too” his last words almost lost in his laughter.   

He was kissing her. She hadn't even been trying to start anything, and Oliver was kissing her, though honestly her presence alone was probably enough to warrant such a response. Just as she was starting to do her part, though, he was leaning back. What a tease, she thought, matching his grin. This was still not what was supposed to be happening, but somehow she couldn't remember any of the reasons why it was a bad idea. All she knew is that she wanted him to kiss her again and that she shouldn't want that.

"What?" Quinn was too lost thinking about climbing on top of him to fully process what he had just said. What had they been talking about thirty seconds ago? Right, the letter. She still held the letter in her hand and she looked down at it again as Oliver spoke up again. Her smile spread, looking up at him, marveling at how much she loved his laugh. "That is actually brilliant," and she couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of that herself.

She got up without another word, crossing the room to rummage through a drawer. There was a quill and ink on the kitchen table, but Quinn knew that she would have to bend the slightest bit to look for one of the quills lurking in the drawer. A good oops this time. She found what she needed almost immediately, but she lingered, if only to get him back for that kiss from before. Once she figured he had had enough, she turned around, self-inking quill in hand, and grabbed a book on her way back to bed.

The seeker seated herself again, propping herself up with the pillows and smashing her side into his. Just in case he wanted to read what she was writing, of course. She brought her knees up, holding the book against them as a makeshift surface to write on. After briefly sticking the tip of the quill in her mouth to get the ink going, she flipped the letter over to scrawl on the back.

She had a thin, cramped handwriting, but she didn't pause to make sure Oliver could actually read what was being written about him. She wrote her thanks to Elias, however brief, before jumping into how Oliver was there and he was probably very, very tired considering neither of them had much sleep and how she needed to keep the reply short so they could get some not-sleeping done again before she had to go to practice. The whole time she was writing, she had a tremendous smirk on her face, so pleased with the response.

"Here," she said, sliding the book and letter over after signing her name. "I hope he gets this at work," she added with a laugh. Her mind drifted to her written plans for their morning and it finally sunk in. If they did anything at all this morning, it would just be to have a big, greasy breakfast to beat the hangover. Anything else and this could turn into a thing and they definitely didn't want that, did they?

Quinn waited until the man beside her was done with his part of the letter before posing her question of "Want me to make breakfast?" The kitchen was a much safer space than the bedroom if she didn't want to be tempted with anything. The thought of asking him to leave didn't even cross her mind.

“Ah…the letter” He offered helpfully, an amused expression working its way onto his face in the process,  pleased with himself that he’d managed to distract her so. At her smile in response to his suggestion he wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully before taking a brief mock bow “I’m known to be brilliant on occasion” Honestly, he was just glad to have been able to make her smile, it was an expression that suited her well.

It wasn’t long though, before he found himself distracted in turn, all too happy to admire the view Quinn offered him as she rummaged through the drawer across the room. He was suddenly very glad that she’d ended up grabbing his shirt from the night before, rather than any other option she could have ended up with. And it was his turn to pout, even if momentarily that she’d found what she was looking for as he blinked, trying to catch up with what she was writing, not able to read her handwriting all that easily, although trusting her to write something that would suitably scar Elias mildly. He chuckled to himself as he watched her smirk grow the farther she got along with the letter, curious to know what she was saying about them.

As she passed him the quill, Oliver let his other free arm slip over the witches shoulders, enjoying the excuse to hold her a bit closer, his thumb absently tracing patterns across her skin. And, with one quick flourish of the quill Oliver had signed the letter with one of his best (in his opinion anyway) autograph style signatures, wanting to leave Elias no doubt that Quinn had in fact not forged his signature, and that he had signed it himself. “With how often he’s at work, I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” Oliver remarked as he handed the letter back to her, an impish smile on his face “I’m more disappointed we won’t get to see his face when he opens it” he added as an afterthought, and took a minute to consider what that might look like. The thought of the various reactions his roommate might have made him giggle with delight. 

Breakfast sounded like a really, really good plan, and before he could tell her that with his words, Oliver’s stomach grumbled loudly in response “Well, I guess that’d be a resounding yes” he said looking down at his own stomach. “I can help, if you want” he offered quickly, not wanting her to think he was taking advantage of her, or her offer. The only downside to her making breakfast was that it meant they would have to move, and maybe put on some real clothes, but he supposed if they were going to have any hope of figuring out exactly what it was that they were doing, getting out of bed would be the first step.

Having an arm -- and not just any arm, but Oliver's -- around her shoulders was far too comfortable, but Quinn was not about to request that he remove it. She watched him handle the quill, taking notice of his other hand and how much she liked what he was doing. She liked his loopy signature even though it was twice as large as hers was on the page, but she was all too aware that he wasn't overcompensating for anything.

"Oh thank Merlin." There was a pretty good chance that Elias would be at work, although now that she thought of it, Quinn really had no idea what time it was anyway. Part of her was convincing her to not look at the time, if only to have that much more opportunity to be with Oliver. But she had obligations, career obligations, and she knew he did too, which really should have made the decision to tell him to leave all the easier, but it was doing nothing of the sort. "Oh, I will definitely be needing to have a chat with him sometime soon," Quinn offered, "and since you apparently live with him, you can always see his face, then." She grinned, "I plan to do my best to make it a good one."

She was soon questioning her reasoning behind suggesting breakfast at all, especially now that she found herself settling into him. Quinn didn't want to move, but she also didn't want to be enjoying this so much. She was still holding the letter, though getting up to actually send it was the last thing she wanted to do. But, she had offered breakfast, and Oliver was clearly hungry, and she probably wouldn't be able to deny her own hunger much longer.

"I guess you can," she agreed with smile, "If you don't trust me not to poison you with my cooking." She nudged him, mostly joking about the poisoning thing. She wasn't yet that desperate to increase her league standings. The woman sat up slowly, disappointed that she was the one to move first; she climbed over Oliver rather than around to leave the bed, lingering for a few more seconds than necessary as she straddled him, before stepping lightly back to the still open window to send her return letter.

When she turned back around, she finally was able to take in the state of the room. It seemed that most of the clothes they had shed were on the floor here, and she had to at least congratulate herself for making it through the house to the bedroom before stripping. "Don't feel obligated to get dressed just because I did," she suggested with a wink, not bothering to hand him anything to wear in bed so she might be able to sneak one final peek. She also didn't bother to put on anything more before she left the room, walking down the short hallway to her cramped living room and kitchen. There wasn't much more to the house on this floor besides a bathroom, with all of her interesting quidditch stuff upstairs, and that was one area she would be keeping Oliver out of for now.

She began rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out possibilities for breakfast. Quinn just assumed that he would want something similar to whatever she wanted, considering they were both in the middle of their quidditch seasons and he also probably had some crazy nutritionist on his team's staff. She found eggs, bread, and sausage, but for some reason she couldn't quite figure out, she wanted to wait to begin cooking until Oliver was there to watch, if only to keep getting compliments and cozy feelings from him.

“I’ll hold you to that” he told her, offering her an impish grin “I expect nothing less than a perfect performance” he finished, hoping to egg her on enough in order to ensure that she wouldn’t be able to back down from the challenge. It was somewhat of a risky move, considering that he was very vulnerable to any kind of attack that Quinn might feel inclined to deliver in return for his demand, but Oliver was also confident that Quinn wouldn’t be able to turn down the challenge now that it had been offered. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to if he had been in her shoes himself, but he also knew that Quinn would certainly not disappoint.

With a soft grunt Oliver stretched luxuriously, eyeing Quinn as he did so “I figure you’re cooking’s safe. If you wanted to kill me, you could have done that last night.” He smirked at her good naturedly, owning up to the truth of the matter. She could have still killed him, right then he mused. Her bed was comfortable, she was exceptionally attractive, and he probably would have been unable, or wouldn’t have wanted to stop her from killing him, if she really put her mind to it. And as she climbed over him to get out of bed, that thought was confirmed. Though, rather than let her know that the brunette gave her a gentle shove, pretending to be impatient “sorry, my hand slipped” he quipped unapologetically as he sat up, reluctant to move.

After admiring Quinn one final time, Oliver began combing the floor for any sign of his jeans, finally spotting them near the rest of their clothes. “Oh, yeah. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He responded, laughing as he stood and crossed the room before tugging his jeans up over his hips and following her out into the kitchen. As he walked, the Scot took in his surroundings for the second time, connecting some of the blurrier details of the night as he went. There was no doubting that the small house was Quinn, inside and out. There was clutter everywhere, not unlike his own space, especially when Elias wasn’t around to keep him in check.

It was cozy, almost too much, in a way that reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to be feeling attached, like something about the whole thing was ‘right.’ The thought made him quicken his pace into the kitchen where he could hear Quinn moving around, and pulling things together. In an effort to distract himself as much as her Oliver leaned easily against the doorway, and purposely let his gaze linger “if you’re waiting for me, does that mean I get my own private show?” he asked easily before slipping into the room completely. Realizing his attempt had done exactly the opposite of what he had hoped, Oliver waited a beat before trying again “So, how nutty is your ‘nutrition specialist’? Ours is more enthusiastic than you could possibly imagine…”

Well, he definitely wasn't wrong about her having plenty of opportunities to actually murder him, though she probably didn't need to tell him that was the last thing on her mind at the time. And she especially didn't want to be doing that now. She smirked as she got off the bed, despite the 'help' that Oliver offered her. "Mhmm, suuure it did." He could use her excuse but she could use his retort just as easily. She might not have remembered every detail about the night before, but the details surrounding touching Oliver Wood's arse were fresh in her mind. She didn't bother agreeing with him about how she would really, really quite like it if he decided to forgo clothing, mentally scolding herself for not hiding the rest of his clothes before waking him up.

She heard him arrive before he said anything, making sure to make any movements slow and to deliberately create good lines in her silhouette. "Your own show?" Quinn spun around, a loaf of brown bread in her hands and a smirk on her lips. He was, unfortunately, wearing clothes, but maybe she could change that later. "I guess that really depends if you're talking about cooking or not," she added before turning around to set the bread down. She kept smirking, even with her back turned to him. He might have been able to figure out that she was waiting for him before doing anything, but she wasn't going to let him win that easily. The woman busied herself with the bread, cutting thin slices and setting them aside, choosing to use her hands instead of her wand so that she wouldn't be tempted to let them wander. "Oh we have a new one this season, and he's at least a bit less crazy than the last one," she laughed, shaking her head. "The last guy went through a no carb phase."


She finally turned around, small knife in one hand and a slice of bread in the other, and leaned back against the counter. "Like, I understand that we need to be healthy, but carbs," she wiggled the piece of bread in front of her. "It won't be fun if the new one finds out about last night though," she shrugged, relaxing her arms, referencing solely to the fact that she drank more in one night than she really ought to be drinking all season. But a small part of her jumped to the thought of anyone finding out the rest about the night before, and if that would really be the end of the world.

No, it would definitely be the end of the world. No one but Elias and the two people actually involved could know anything had happened. Quinn cleared her throat as she turned back around, setting aside what was in her hands. She grabbed a frying pan from off the wall above the stove and then set about making the rest of what would definitely be their last meal. The sausages were cooking before she turned back around and resumed her position leaning back against the counter. "Help yourself to whatever you'd like," she offered, motioning to the various mugs hanging from hooks to the right of the stove and to the cabinet a little further down the wall that had more than one shelf full of teapots. She wasn't too sure why she wasn't taking the initiative to make tea herself, but Oliver was probably capable of figuring out how to do it himself.

He didn't need to know that she had never made breakfast for any other one night stand before him.

Feeling bold again Oliver fixed her with a mischievous grin “Mm. Fair enough.” He assented, but he quirked an eyebrow playfully as he continued “what if I meant both?” he wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this whole line of thought, but he knew it at least would keep him from noticing how homey Quinn looked, standing there in his t-shirt and cooking them breakfast. The more superficial aspects of whatever it was that was going on between them now were by far and large much, much easier to deal with, especially before breakfast.

The no carb trend was one that Oliver would never be able to understand. Was he pretty committed to being healthy? Of course he was. But carbs were probably among the few food related items that he would always refuse to give up completely. It was bad enough that they couldn’t really drink during the season, for Merlin’s sake, the least they could let him do is have some bread and pasta every so often. The wizard wrinkled his nose sympathetically “a no carb diet is its own form of torture. Ours tried that at the beginning of the last season, and I think it lasted all of maybe two or three weeks” He added, chucking at the memory. “You remember Benjy Williams, our old seeker? He got so bent out of shape, he threatened to make the man eat a snitch once” it hadn’t been long after that that the nutritionist had decided that listening to team input was a good idea on occasion. Their diet was still very structured, but had changed to allow for the occasional carb filled indulgence, and Oliver wasn’t going to look that gift horse in the mouth.

“I doubt a bunch of muggles are going to rat us out to the Prophet” he suggested playfully. Thinking back on their date the previous night, he had to admit that Elias had been smart, whether he had intended for it to work out that way entirely or not, by booking them a table in a muggle restaurant, and subsequently away from nosy wizarding reporters. “You could always tell him you had pumpkin juice instead” he continued, now on a tear “not to mention...we definitely worked off some of those carbs, so…” he finished smugly, but not at all helpfully.

As far as Oliver could tell, there was very little for anyone, even Elias to tell about the fact that he and Quinn had been set up and ended up sleeping together. It wasn’t something he usually did, and definitely saw where Quinn was coming from, because the press was undoubtedly a nightmare to deal with, but as much as he didn’t want to think about what was going on between them, he also couldn’t bring himself to worry too much about it all just yet.

At her offer, the ex-Gryffindor nodded easily and moved towards the row of mugs using the opportunity to get close to Quinn again, nearly pinning her to the counter as he leaned across to grab two mugs. If she thought she was going to get away with teasing him earlier, she had sorely been mistaken. As he shifted, in order to turn and set the mugs on the counter he lingered just for a moment longer than necessary before backing away, and setting the kettle to boil with a flick of his wand. He hadn’t asked if she’d wanted tea or coffee, but he figured if she had any strong feelings on the matter, he would have heard about it already.

She kept smirking in the general direction of the bread, not wanting to give Oliver the satisfaction that his answer of 'both' to her question was exactly what she had wanted to hear. "I mean, I did write to Elias that we were going to have a very relaxing morning," she emphasized the word 'relaxing', meaning exactly the opposite of the word. "And you did sign your name to it," she added, slicing another piece of bread off the loaf and setting it aside casually. Quinn could definitely give him a show. If he thought last night was amazing, he was in for quite the treat if he stuck around. For the rest of the morning, of course.

Quinn was thrilled to be able to talk about quidditch again, even if it was only talking about parts of their training regimens, if only to keep her focused on the more important aspect of the morning, which would be never talking to Oliver again after this. "Ooh, he sounds like a real charmer," she commented, rolling her eyes a little. Of course she remembered him, she remembered all the seekers she had played against. But however much she wanted to say anything else about the matter, Quinn was actually enjoying their conversation and didn't want to get too sidetracked with anything. She supposed she could understand flipping out without carbs; she had been pretty close to doing the same thing. They only thing that had held her back was the fact that she was still fairly new to the team.

"That's a very good point," she conceded with a laugh. Obviously no one from the night before had recognized either one of them or they would have said something, and she really shouldn't be worried about Elias saying anything to anyone, either. She matched Oliver's smug look with one of her own as he made his comment about working off all their carbs, though she couldn't help the blush that crept up on to her cheeks. There was no way she was embarrassed about anything so she was less than pleased to be having any sort of reaction to him saying that. "I was going to make toast," she started slowly, smirking, "so we'll have more we need to work off. For the sake of our training sessions, of course." She finished her sentence with a wink, hoping her blush had at least subsided a little.

She watched him as he moved across the kitchen, getting closer to her with every step. Now she found herself regretting that she had put on his shirt at all. If he had a shirt to wear, there would be a lot less of him to look at, and there would be a lot less to get distracted by. He seemed to know what effect he was having on her though, as he got much closer than necessary to fetch a mug. Quinn wanted to kiss him, to skip out on breakfast, skip out on practice, keep him occupied in her bed for as long as possible. Her eyes flicked from his face, which was somehow more handsome in the sunlight filling the room, down to his unfortunately bare chest, which was now at her eye level since she had lost her heels from the night before. She looked back up to his lips and was just about to give in and kiss him when he took a step back, apparently still in the process of making tea. There was plenty of tea on the shelf above the mugs and she assumed she didn't need to walk him through how to use it.

The woman exhaled sharply as she remembered what she was supposed to be doing: make breakfast and get Oliver out of her house and out of her life. But she had already said all those things about their impending morning activities. She wasn't going to be the one to back out of this first. They could get rid of each other later. Quinn turned her attentions back to the frying pan, poking the sausages around so they cooked evenly. She toasted the bread with her wand, splitting the slices evenly between two plates she had set out. The sausages were done soon enough, and she tipped those onto the plates as well. She fried up a couple eggs for each of them and added them to the pile, managing to match up her timing with Oliver's timing of the tea almost perfectly.

She set both plates down on the small table in the kitchen, side by side, along with forks, knives, and napkins. "Have at it," Quinn offered, settling into a chair. She wasn't sure if she was looking forward to eating so she would have something to think about besides Oliver's body, or if she was looking forward to it so she could get some energy back and have an excuse for some very rigorous physical activities.

“True, and true” he conceded with an amused snort, not that he was going to be complaining in the least, Quinn hadn’t kicked him out yet. “He was an alright bloke off the pitch, really” Like all seekers, in Oliver’s mind, Benjy had been an odd duck in some ways too, not that he was judging really, not with what people tended to say about keepers. Oliver returned her wink, quietly enjoying the way he’d been able to make her blush “Oh right, of course. Brilliant idea, really.” He said, playing along.   

With another casual flick of his wand, Oliver had two cups of steaming tea set themselves down in front of their respective plates “You don’t have to tell me twice” he joked as he wasted no time digging into the food in front of him. He must have been hungrier than he thought, as he was finished with his plate in a matter of minutes. He might have had the decency to have been embarrassed, but as soon as he turned to crack another joke, he realized that Quinn had finished too, wondering for a moment if the Irishwoman had actually managed to beat him. For a moment the ex-Gryffindor sat there, staring dumbly wondering what the most appropriate response would be that wouldn’t get him hit or yelled at. Then, he had a thought, and grinned at Quinn mischievously “I think that could be considered a tie, don’t you?” He waited a beat, wanting to let her respond before he continued.

“And last I checked…” he paused, pretending to think hard for a moment “there’s always a tie breaker of some sort, no?” He eyed their mugs of tea before gesturing to them “first one to down their cuppa, ‘wins’ and can decide how we’re going to spend our oh so relaxing morning” he finished, eyes twinkling gleefully. Oliver was fairly certain that Quinn would be able to pick up on his meaning, feeling fairly confident all of a sudden. Without waiting for an answer Oliver picked up his mug, and held it to his lips expectantly. He was fairly certain that he could manage to beat her here, seeing as he was able to finish his pints faster the night before, and he had some ideas as to how they could spend their morning, as long as Quinn agreed. 

Tea, it turned out, had the potential to stay quite warm when in a mug. This was not a new piece of information to Oliver Wood, but in his haste to impress Quinn, it had been conveniently forgotten until it was far, far too late to back down. Suffering through the hottest gulps of tea he’d had in his life, Oliver did his best to play it off, his eyes only watering slightly thanks to his sheer power of will. Turning again to see if Quinn had attempted it also, he was amused to find the witch watching him over the brim of her still un-chugged mug of tea watching him smugly. Still not ready to give up on his plans Oliver wiggled his eyebrows ridiculously “It looks like I win…” he prompted, as he waited expectantly for her reply for a moment before leaning in to claim his prize.

It was hard to eat slowly when the cook was so exceptional, and she definitely was. She almost slowed herself down, but all that work last night added to the hangover this morning made for a very hungry Quinn. And it seemed like Oliver was eating quickly too, either out of sheer hunger or just to get to the next activity even faster. And if Quinn was being honest with herself, he was definitely eating fast for the latter reason, and who was she to blame him for that?

She turned towards him as he did the same, smirking and waiting for him to say something. A suggestion to head back to the bedroom would be her top choice, but she would also settle for a simple thanks for cooking. "If considering it a tie will make you feel better, then by all means." She returned his grin, making a mental note to be the definite winner for their next meal, then quickly making another mental note that there would be no next meal. "S'pose so," she conceded, acknowledging the existence of tie breakers. But she followed his eye line to their tea, steam still rising from the surfaces.

She picked up her mug, well aware that her tea was quite hot, considering that it had been boiling just a few minutes ago. She had no intention to participate in this, but just as she would forever claim that she had let him win the drinking contest the night before, she had every intention of letting him win again. And when he won, he could suggest the things for them to d o that she knew he wanted. It was only fair.

The woman put the cup to her lips, but not moving it any farther as she watched Oliver follow through with his brilliant idea. She held the cup still, smirking behind it as he realized his mistake. It was stupid, yes, but still the least bit impressive. She blew on her own tea before taking a small sip, setting her cup down with a feigned look of defeat on her face.

"Damn," she said with a pout, "looks like you do." She leaned in, pleased to be getting her face this close to his face again. "How terrible for me," she said quietly, placing her hands on either side of his face, not giving him a chance to respond before closing the space between their lips. She pulled herself as close to him as she could without actually climbing into his lap, though she wasn't totally opposed to that option either. It didn't take her too long before regretting her need to breathe, only pulling herself back when it was absolutely necessary.

"So, after this," she said, trying to catch her breath, "we can't do this anymore." She was referring to whatever this was, without wanting to call it anything. She vaguely remembered him saying something the night before along the lines of seeing each other again but surely they both knew it would be best if seeing each other only happened on the pitch. "So this better be good."

Oliver wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or somewhat insulted that Quinn had let him ’win’ so easily and that she was playing along without giving him her usual dose of grief. He didn’t have time to dwell on that fact for long though as he found Quinn meeting him half way. Grinning at her triumphantly he took a moment to enjoy the feeling of her hands on his face “lucky for me, though, eh?” and in that moment he decided that nearly scalding his mouth had been entirely worth it, without question.

The need to breathe was, however, a bit more annoying, as Quinn was pulling away from him just after she’d started kissing him, or at least it seemed that way. He blinked at her, trying to catch his own breath as he listened to her speak, his hand still cupping her neck. Whatever this was, it wasn’t something he did often, and that meant that Oliver was a bit out of his depth with the whole thing. That said though, he could see where Quinn was coming from, and as much as he might not have wanted to, he found himself agreeing with her. They were far too busy with their respective careers to be getting into anything serious, not to mention that if they were to get into anything more substantial, it wouldn’t be long before the Prophet and other news outlets would get wind, and complicate their already stressful schedules more than they already were. He offered her a rueful shake of his head, as he waited another beat to try and catch his breath “No, I don’t think we can…”
“Which is a real shame…” he teased lightly, winking at her.

Oliver wasn’t keen to dwell on their agreement too long at the moment. “Good? I think we can manage to do better than just good. I mean we are us after all. Oliver wasn’t nearly as egotistical as his mouth often made him out to be, but it also didn’t meant that he was opposed to taking advantage of that fact when it happened, especially if it managed to continually impress Quinn. Not giving her a chance to respond, Oliver scooped her up and spun her around playfully before exiting the kitchen, and heading back toward her bedroom. 

He really was lucky, wasn't he? It was just too bad that he couldn't tell anyone about his amazing time with her, because then she really would kill him. She decided not to dwell on the fact that she had also had an amazing time, was still having an amazing time. No one needed to know that, especially not the man she was currently kissing.

Quinn did her best not to show her disappointment when he agreed that they really couldn't be doing any of this again after today. Never mind that she would probably drop dead from embarrassment if anyone quidditch-related found out about her hooking up with Oliver Wood, let alone actually enjoyed it. But there was still that really small part of her that was upset that he wasn't going to argue her on the point, especially after he winked at her again. She shouldn't like him winking so much.

"Oh, that is a really good point," she agreed, liking his use of the word 'us' a little too much. She smirked, leaning in to kiss him again, this time fully intending to climb on top of him. The seeker wanted to make him regret agreeing that it would be best not to do this again, even if it was her suggestion in the first place. But as soon as she got her words out and long before she could act on her plans, he had picked her up. It caught her by surprise and she clung to him tightly as he spun around.

Seems like she would still be getting the chance to make this much better than good. For Oliver's sake, of course.