Author's note: Sort of silly little oneshot written for a friend while she wrote me one. Do review so I can beat her, yes?
COFFEE
He moved in more than three weeks ago, but Harry still hadn't gotten used to seeing a half-dressed Draco Malfoy rummaging through the refrigerator first thing in the morning. His ridiculously bright red shorts hurt Harry's eyes so much that he was temporarily blinded, and Harry figured that Draco wore them for the sole purpose of pissing him off.
"Hey, Potter, you seen the jam I put in here? The one that Mum sent?"
Harry vaguely recalled a small jar of strawberry goo that, upon sampling while Draco's back was turned, had tasted more like essence of flobberworm than anything else.
"Er, no, sorry." Harry moved into the small kitchen of their room, his stockinged feet hidden mostly by the baggy flannel pajamas he had worn to sleep the night prior. Scratching his chest through his t-shirt absentmindedly, Harry shuffled towards the cabinets beside the fridge. Draco's search continued.
"I swear I left it right here. You didn't eat it, did you?"
Though Harry really wanted to reply with something more honest, starting a row with Draco over how unappealing Mrs. Malfoy's pathetic attempts at cooking without the help of a house elf and how he definitely would not have eaten it, thank you very much wasn't something he really wanted to do first thing in the morning.
"Of course not," Harry replied easily. Harry reached inside the cabinet above his head for a bag of coffee grounds. He poured them into the coffee machine, making a small noise when the bag emptied into the container with barely enough to fill a few tablespoons.
"Bugger."
Draco finally removed himself from the fridge, and his bony arms slammed the door shut. Running a hand through his platinum blond hair, Draco let out a sigh.
"Oh, what now?"
"We're out of coffee," Harry said.
"Jesus, well this is just great. Barely even eight and my day's already shit." Draco pushed himself up onto the counter, and leaned forward. His hair fell in messy chunks over his eyes, hiding his frustrated expression from Harry's view.
"Well," Harry said slowly, "we could always go without, you know. We have to be at the Ministry in twenty minutes anyway."
Draco groaned at the prospect, but made no sudden movements. Silently, Harry was thankful. Since they began rooming together to lessen the financial burden of being an auror in a post-war world, Harry had grown accustomed to hiding all of the fragile dishes in a locked cupboard on Monday mornings when his roommate was particularly testy. It being a Thursday, Harry hadn't suspected anything to upset him seriously so close to the weekend and so he had left the plates vulnerable.
"Might as well get dressed, I suppose," Draco said quietly while swinging himself off the counter. Stretching his arms high in the air, higher than he could reach if jumped, Harry imagined, Draco ambled towards the open bedroom on his side of the apartment.
"Wear something reasonable today, for a change, Malfoy." Draco shot him the finger behind his back before entering the room.
Harry laughed, and turned towards the cabinets once more to look again for something to eat before work. Upon finding that the only edible thing in the house was a half-eaten moldy apple in the clutches of a rather possessive rat, Harry gave up.
He shuffled back into his room and after changing into a suitable dark brown suit, entered the sitting room to find it empty.
"Malfoy, if you don't hurry it up, we'll be even later than we normally are." His warning was met with silence. "Seriously, get out here, you prat. You're just like a girl, honestly." When Draco didn't answer, Harry marched swiftly across the mess (mostly Draco's expensive furniture he'd been sent by his family and hadn't yet found a place for, and Harry's unfortunately large collection of unread books) to Draco's room and pushed the door open.
Draco stood in the center of the room, but his head and upper arms were stuck inside the tightest bright blue tank top Harry had ever seen.
"Malfoy?" Harry approached slowly.
The figure turned quickly, and Harry stopped moving. After a moment, a muffled voice shouted, "Don't just stand there, you idiot. Help me."
"Oh, right." Harry rushed to his roommate's side, but wasn't sure what to do. Draco squirmed in his shirt, twisting and turning his muscled torso. Harry just stood and watched, somehow unable to think, much less move. Only when Draco backed into him in all his movement did Harry register the situation.
"What are you doing? Pull it off!" Harry blinked in surprise, but grabbed the top of the shirt and began to pull. Finding the fabric much less giving than he had imagined, Harry grunted.
"God, this shirt's," he pulled hard, "tight, isn't it?"
Draco, still twisting, replied, "No shit, scarhead. You think I'm sweating for nothing?"
Harry looked down and noticed that the blond was indeed sweating a little. Harry's mouth went dry. He couldn't help but notice how the muscles in his back rippled with every movement. His hands were limp on Draco's shirt, despite how Draco tried to shimmy his way out.
"Potter, what are you doing?!"
Remembering himself again, Harry angrily tugged at the shirt one more.
"Jesus, would you just… stop…thrashing?" Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's middle, pulling his pale back to Harry's clothed front. Tearing roughly downwards on the tank top, Harry finally wrenched the shirt off of Draco's curved torso and over his head. Panting, Draco straightened himself slightly, and Harry immediately dropped his hands.
"Jesus, Malfoy, what are you trying to do?
Draco turned slowly, and Harry braced himself for an angry insult that never came.
What came instead was a pair of lips, rough and demanding. Draco's hands found Harry's wrists at his sides, and taking them in one hand, pushed Harry against the wall of his bedroom. Harry did not blink, feeling rather more dazed than he had felt in weeks. Only when a bony leg crept between his thighs did Harry gasp and pull his face away.
"What are you—" Harry tried to start, but stopped suddenly when Draco jumped away from him. Flushed a deeper crimson than Harry had ever seen his pale skin turn, Draco grabbed a coat off the handle of his door and stomped out of his room. A few seconds later, Harry heard the front door slam. The ensuing quiet was unnerving. Harry got off of the wall, trying to understand the matter.
He walked into the sitting room quietly, and sat on one of Draco's plush armchairs. He dimly registered that they were more than twenty minutes late for work, but Harry couldn't imagine trying to get there at this point. As if he and Draco could show up during a fight and have no one notice. Especially, Harry thought as he licked his lips, if their faces were as telling of what had happened as he imagined they were. Feeling his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, Harry assumed that his lips must be pretty swollen. Realizing that Draco probably wasn't going to come back, Harry loosened his tie.
He was halfway through unbuttoning his collared shirt when he heard the front door open and close quietly. Harry stood quickly and moved to the kitchen, where Draco had just set down a paper bag. The air was thick with tension before Draco sighed and said:
"Listen, Harry, I'm sorry. That was stupid, I don't know why--"
Harry pushed himself onto his toes and kissed him gently against his lips. Draco closed his eyes and moved into the kiss, bending down to relieve them of some of the difference in their height. Harry smiled, and pulled away.
"Apology accepted, I think."
Draco smirked at that, before pushing Harry more into the kitchen.
"I wasn't expecting you to give in that easily, to tell you the truth. So I guess this was unnecessary, then, eh?" Draco pulled a large bag of coffee beans out from the bag.
"Oh, I dunno," replied Harry. "It could save us the trouble of having to repeat this whole ordeal the next time you try to wear something stupid."
"Piss off," Draco said lowering his head. Harry chuckled and moved into another kiss.
Three hours later, Harry would send an owl to the Ministry, apologizing for the late notice, but politely informing them that Mr. Malfoy and him had contracted the flu, and that neither would be appearing at work until Monday afternoon, at the very earliest. Draco, while looking forward to the nice long weekend, only agreed to Monday afternoon if Harry promised to make him a large coffee and toast with jam. Harry burns the toast and is too generous with the creamer, but it's just how Draco likes it.