The Sugar Quill
Author: Deborah Peters  Story: Percy Doesn't Like Quidditch  Chapter: Default
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Why Does Everyone Think I'm Gay

Why Does Everyone Think I'm Gay?

Deborah Peters

 

 

            Oliver was lying on his bed, drawing up Quidditch plays, when the door flew open and Percy stormed in, slamming the door behind him, looking for all the world like someone was going to meet a slow, painful death at his hands.

            "Percy?!" exclaimed Oliver incredulously at his roommate's appearance.

            "Why does everyone think I'm gay?!" shouted Percy, his angry face as red as his hair.

            Oliver stared.  "What?"

            "Why," Percy repeated, "does everyone think I'm gay?"

            Oliver sat up.  "Who thinks you're gay?"

            "Everyone," Percy said simply.

            "Quite a predicament."

            "It would seem."

            "By everyone, you mean..."

            "Everyone."

            "That's a large number of people."

            "Yes."

            "Are you sure you're not?"

            "WHAT?!"

            "Okay, bad question."

            "Yes, it was."

            "So... why do people think you're gay..."

            "That would be the question."

            "Well, you don't like Quidditch much."

            "So?"

            "SO?!  Come on, Percy, what wizard doesn't like Quidditch?"

            "Many.  Besides, if Quidditch is so manly, how come so many witches like it?"

            "They're lesbians."

            "But Katie Bell plays Quidditch."

            "Ooh.  Good point.  Katie Bell."

            The boys spared a moment of thought for the glory that was Katie Bell.

            “The point is,” said Percy, "how can I be gay?"

            "So you are?"

            "NO!  What I'm saying is, I have a girlfriend."

            "Right.  Persimone."

            "Penelope."

            "Yeah, her."

            "And we snog."

            "Do tell."

            Percy nodded.  "Was snogging her in the library this afternoon."

            "Really?"

            "Yes, and a grand snog it was."

            "I'll bet."

            "Poofs don't snog their girlfriends."

            Oliver raised an eyebrow.  "They don't?"

            "No, they braid their hair."

            "They do?"

            "Yes."

            Oliver drummed his fingers on the edge of the bed.  "Penelope has curly hair."

            "Your point being?"

            "Can you braid curly hair?"

            "I don't know,” Percy shrugged. “I'm not a poof."

            "Oh.  Right."

            "What, don't you believe me?"

            "Well, you have to admit, you do have certain... characteristics..."

            "Such as?"

            "Well, the Quidditch thing, for example."

            "We've already covered that.  Doesn't count."

            "Okay, well, what about your relationship with your mum?"

            Percy scowled.  "What about my mum?"

            "Don't you think you're a little... close?"

            "She's proud of me."

            "Right."

            "And I admire her for the way she keeps our family together."

            "Sure."

            "And I owl her every day so she doesn't worry."

            "Yeah."

            "What does that prove?"

            "Er, nothing.  Nothing at all.  Forget I said anything."

            "Well, then, we still don't know why I'm allegedly gay."

            "Well, you're kind of prissy."

            "PRISSY?"

            "See?  There?  How you said that?"

            "I can't help having a tenor voice."

            "But you can help those wrists."

            "What about them?"

            "Nothing."

            "I thought so."

            "And there's also how fussy you are with your clothes and schoolwork."

            "I like things neat and tidy."

            "You use the word 'tidy.'"

            "Many manly men say 'tidy.'"

            "Name one."

            "Merlin."

            "Merlin was gay."

            "He was not!"

            "Well, he wasn't manly."

            "But he wasn't gay, and neither am I!"

            "Oh, Percy, face it.  You're a prissy, fussy, Quidditch-hating mama's boy who says 'tidy.'  If you're not gay, you're close."

            "...I'm speechless."

            "I'm not surprised."

            "But not too speechless to tell you whom everyone thinks I'm gay WITH."

            The next day, at breakfast, everyone commented on Percy's black eye, saying that Oliver really should be more careful with his delicate boyfriend.  Oliver, for his part, just glowered.

 

The end.

 

 

 

 

ALTERNATE VERSION

Because I know some people are diehard O/P shippers.

 

 

            Oliver was lying in his bed, drawing up Quidditch plays, when the door flew open and Percy stormed in, slamming the door behind him, looking for all the world like someone was going to meet a slow, painful death at his hands.

            "Percy?!" exclaimed Oliver incredulously at his roommate's appearance.

            "Why does everyone think I'm gay?!" shouted Percy, his angry face as red as his hair.

            "Because you are," Oliver said.

            Percy visibly relaxed.  "Oh.  Yes."

            "Shag, then?"

            "Oh, let's."

            So they shagged.

 

The end.

 

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