Your Biggest Fan

Ollie grew flustered at the idea that his meeting Echo here was something of a date. He nervously laughed it off as his cheeks began to warm, and he ran his hand through his shaggy hair to keep himself busy. Suddenly he lost the nerve to look Tessa in the eye, so his gaze fell to the bar and rag she’d been using to wipe it down when he had come in. “Nah,” he stammered, scratching his head. “Not a date or anything like that. Just a witch from work. A friend.” Glancing back up he saw Tessa still had an eager look on her face and he turned away from her, scanning over near the door in case he’d missed Echo’s arrival. “How’s my little Hannah?” he asked Tessa as a change of subject, moving to turn the rest of the way around to face her again but spotting Echo near the fireplace on the other side of the room. He smiled at Echo and gave a little wave but having noted the big dog she was with he decided it would be better for her to come to him than the other way around. Dogs, and animals in general, weren’t a big fan of the Devereauxs. Besides, he really did want to hear how Baby Hannah was doing.

Tessa’s backup support was seriously lacking, but Ollie couldn’t fault her for it. She was fun and always playful, no matter who it was with. He liked her a lot, but not in any inappropriate way. She wasn’t his type at all. She was older, not by much but enough that he knew not to talk about it to or in front of the woman, and she had a kid. Ollie loved little Hannah. She was squishy and adorable and it was really rather gross the stuff that came out of either end but in between that she was a blast to play and had the cutest little baby giggle. Ollie wanted kids of his own one day, waaaay in the future, but he was happy to sit for Hannah now when Tessa needed an extra hand, and Dora had already informed him he’d be doing the same for her little one when the time came. He was fine with that, so long as the brunette didn’t take advantage too often. He had a social life to be getting on with, not to mention his career.

Tessa poured them each a glass of firewhiskey and said they were on the house because he and Echo ‘excited’ her. What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean?! “Night,” he said with a little wave as Tessa left them and headed upstairs, then Ollie turned to Echo as she asked about his relationship with the barkeep. “Tess? I dunno, just met her here a while back. Put my foot in my mouth, she laughed, the usual Oliver Devereaux experience.” Ollie did have a spectacular habit of making an arse of himself but he claimed it was all part of his charm, and it really was. He was never really embarrassed for long and most things just seemed to roll right off him like water on a duck. “Her kid’s quite the cutie. Hannah. I like to watch her sometimes to give Tessa a mummy break. Works out well for me, too, because then I get a few free drinks here and there and you know, that comes in handy.” Ollie raised his glass, ready to get to the drinking portion of the evening but very much open to continuing this line of conversation if it meant avoiding anymore talk of his ‘cute blonde’ comment. “To shit reporters,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “May they go screw themselves.”

He really was a show off, much to the chagrin of his big brother. Kit had spent many of their younger years reminding (often) that Ollie needed to curb his natural talents in front of his peers if they were going to keep their family’s secret safe. Ollie knew the drill and he tried to abide by it, and mostly he did alright. Take quidditch for example. Was Ollie the best player on the Falcons? Damn straight, he was! He was the fastest and his reflexes were unmatched by anyone in the league. But did the fans and the press know that? Not at all. He reeled himself in well, enough so that his brother and father seemed genuinely proud of his success despite knowing he could do so much more. It had been difficult once upon a time but he’d grown used to it, and he was still able to let his real abilities out around his family. For Echo, he could just go on showing off about his marvelous foot-in-mouth skills but the great with kids aspect was pretty damn nice, too.

Echo asked after the reporters and Ollie weighed the potential responses. “Well,” he said, sliding his glass back onto the counter and pushing it out far enough to hopefully catch the new bartender’s eye without disrupting the conversation. “For second rate players like yours truly, its pretty much the same always. But you’re great, they just have to get over the fact you’ve got tits, is all. Give it time.” She’d taken a beating by the reporters but hadn’t deserved a lick of it, in Ollie’s opinion. Echo was great and it didn’t matter that she was smaller than most of the other players in her position, nor that it was mostly blokes in her place on other teams.

The bartender wasn’t taking Ollie’s subtle hint as a cue that he needed a refill, so he flagged the man down, turning his head away just as Echo glanced down at her boobs. Perfectly timed to avoid Ollie also giving a peek, which he surely would have done had he caught Echo looking herself, but that would have been soooooo inappropriate. Thankfully, Ollie was blissfully unaware of the awkwardness he had accidentally avoided, or that the bartender who nodded in his direction was actually nodding at Echo staring daggers at him, letting Ollie’s focus return to the conversation. “Hey now, I never said a punch to the face was out of the question. I’ll bet you have a mean right hook.”

She commented on his self-assigned ranking, a joke he had meant to make but apparently it landed more as self-deprecating than humorous. “Really? Fourth rate? Bollocks.” His look of shock and dismay were exaggerated enough to *hopefully* convey his sarcasm. They weren’t here to talk about his career, they were here to talk about hers. Or to distract from it for a moment. He wasn’t really sure what the plan was here, so long as she seemed less frustrated than she’d sounded on the radio earlier. “Yeah, you’re right, Everwood. I’d kick your arse into next Tuesday, but don’t let that get you down. It happens to a lot of quidditch players.” He grinned at her, giving her an oversized wink as the bartender finally filled their glasses. He laughed, his hair falling into his face, and he brushed it out of the way with his hand.