Title: Settled
Author: Erik deSoir
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and to various publishers including but not limited to Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Bloomsbury Books. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended
Pairing: H/D
Warning: Passing mentions of shagging all over the place.
Note: I received an email that had been forwarded to me. It contained a list of things a group of 4-8 year-olds said about what love means. I was inspired to write a story for each one:
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7
I thought that when Harry moved in with me I would go mad. I never had anyone move in with me before. Hell, I had never let anyone get this close to me before. I always just had my little flings and was done when I got bored. I guess I just never got bored this time.
Well, maybe bored isn't the right word. We've gotten boring, but not. It's more like we've settled. I never would have thought I would have been okay with that, settling, but you know what? I am. Crazy, I know.
When we first lived together, it was like a wild party. We shagged in the living room on the couch, on the floor, in the armchair; we shagged in the kitchen on the countertops, against the stove, on the table, on the floor, against the refrigerator, on the sink; we shagged in the hallways against the walls; we shagged against every bloody door in the house; we shagged on the sink in the bathroom and I know that poor old shower won't ever be the same again; we shagged on the back porch in the rain and the garden in the moonlight; we even shagged on the beach that's just past the garden, but only once.
Somewhere along the line our lives came back into focus. Harry worked with a local marine biologist studying the area's animal life. I worked in the local bookstore with an old lady named Marleen and a young man named Lee. Lee thought he was cute; I didn't. We started communicating with friends more frequently. We had them over and they us. We kept up with people other than ourselves and our friends, even.
We started walking along the water line instead of shagging; we stayed in to eat more often; we read books in the evenings and woke up to shower in the mornings. We still had great sex, but it was a little more spaced out. I don't know when exactly our domestic sides really came out. It was a slow and gradual thing, I guess. It didn't really hit me until one night we had just finished doing the dinner dishes and had settled on the couch to our books. I was sitting up on one side of the couch with my legs stretched out and he was facing me, our legs tangled together, when it struck me. I simply looked up and saw him reading his book like this was nothing new, yet there was something about him that made him seem…content? I just smiled and went back to my book having already identified that warm, fuzzy feeling in my own chest.
And there were a million and one different things that I have learned along the way about us, about him, about me. I know that Harry likes to sing in the shower, but not when having a proper bath. I know that Harry prefers square-framed glasses to circular frames. I know that Harry sometimes fakes asleep so he can watch me fall asleep. I know I like waking up to him snuggling against my back. I know when Harry's about to get upset because his neck turns a little pink and he huffs a lot. He knows when I'm about to get upset and is very good at diverting me. He knows I like tea in the mornings and coffee in the afternoons. He knows just when I need to be told he loves me. He knows when I need to be left alone. He knows when I don't. I know when to crack a joke and when to just hold him. I know he likes two sugars and one milk in everything, even mashes potatoes.
So here I am, sitting at the kitchen table. I'm watching Harry as he fixes two cups of tea. He lifts one to his mouth and takes a sip before turning around and putting it in front of me. He always does that, I've noticed. When he makes tea for us he always takes a sip of my tea before setting it in front of me.
I lower my newspaper and continue watching him over the rim of my reading glasses. He stirs a little milk in the remaining cup and adds two sugars. He turns around and sees me watching him. He smiles and sits across from me, sliding the bits of paper I've already read toward himself. As he leans back in his chair preparing to read his newspaper, he smiles at me again and says, "What?"
"Nothing," I say, "just wondering about something."
"What is it?"
I lean forward a little, taking a sip from my teacup, "Why do you always take a sip of my tea? It doesn't bother me, lords know I would've said something by now. I'm just curious."
Harry grins and says, "I just want to make sure it tastes okay."
He's still smiling when he puts on the sandals he wears to work in and heads out the door. As I'm walking down the lane toward town and the bookstore, I find myself smiling, too.