Author's Note 11-09-15: A little birthday present for Lynx aka sschnygg.
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Stay In The Lines
"Potteeeer!" Draco whined, staring miserably at the scene before him. "When you said you wanted to hang out today, this is not what I had in mind!"
Harry though just chuckled at him, which only irked Draco further. "If I'd told you what I had in mind, you would never of come."
They were stood in Harry's spare bedroom at his London house, the furniture gone and the carpet rolled up and propped up in the hall. The walls had been scrubbed bare, and Harry was stood by several cans of light blue paint, clad in a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt that actually sported holes along the hem.
Draco arched his eyebrows incredulously. "You want me to help decorate. By hand?"
Harry just grinned again though in that way that had Draco torn between running for the door and throwing himself at the stupid prat. "Some manual labour will do you good," he announced. "Get those delicate hands doing something useful for once."
Draco concentrated very hard on not blushing as he argued internally that he had some very good suggestions for useful things his hands could do, starting with taming that blasted mop of black hair. Urgh, this was going to be a long day.
"It's bad enough you boss me around at work," he griped. "Now you lure me here under false pretences and make me be your slave."
Harry rolled his eyes and started prying the lid off the nearest can. "I'll take you down the pub afterwards, if you promise not to bitch the entire time. Sound fair?"
It sounded like a date. "Fair enough," Draco shrugged, almost certain he managed to pull off nonchalance. "I need to borrow some clothes though, I'm not going anywhere near you in this."
He pulled his shirt out to illustrate his point that it probably cost more than Harry's whole wardrobe combined, but as usual Harry didn't seem all that bothered by the insult. "Way ahead of you mate," he said, pouring the thick, duck egg blue liquid into a tray with a roller. "There's a pile of work clothes in the bathroom that should fit your skinny hips."
"Ha ha," Draco groaned, but the prospect of having a date with the object of his long-time, one-sided affections had him marching out the door without needing to be told again.
Sure, he and Harry flirted in the office, Draco liked flirting with lots of people as he was certain Harry did, it was just their way of being friendly. But Harry was the only one he meant it with. He sighed as he carefully pulled his clothes off and folded them on top of the cabinet in Harry's bathroom.
It was only as he had his first leg through the pair of jeans did he suddenly realise what he was doing. He was going to be wearing Harry's clothes. The thought sent electricity up his spine. It just seemed so intimate, but also so casual. Okay, he could stand to do some mucky work if he got to experience this as well as drinks afterwards. Who knew? Painting was a lot of effort – maybe he could talk Harry into dinner too?
"What are you grinning at?" Harry asked slyly as Draco came back into the echoey room and picked up his own roller.
"Nothing," he replied with equal devilment.
The radio was on and the sun was shining, and soon the two of them were singing and dancing away as they attacked the walls, turning them from an off-white to a patchy, pale blue. "How many coats will it take?" Draco asked as he started on a new section.
Harry shrugged. "Two, maybe three," he said. "But we have to let them dry in between."
Draco huffed dramatically. "I suppose you'll want me to come over tomorrow as well then?" he demanded in mock horror.
"You are such a drama queen!" Harry shot back, and gave Draco a flick of the brush he was using on the corners.
He obviously didn't quite appreciate how much paint was still saturated on it though, or rather, was on it, as a trail splattered all the way up Draco's borrowed clothes, onto his face before dripping into his hair.
He froze in shock, as did Harry. Except Harry only lasted about three seconds before bursting out laughing, doubling his body over and gripping his sides. "Blue suits you!" he crowed.
"Oh yeah?" Draco challenged, before striding over and rolling his brush all the way up Harry's arm.
He jerked and snapped his head down to look aghast at the already drying paint. "Oh it is so on!" he cried, and launched for Draco.
The two of them shrieked like children as paint went flying, splattering on them, up the walls, along the floor and even managing to hit the ceiling. Draco had a fleeting moment of guilt that they were wrecking Harry's house, but he was having so much fun he didn't care.
He dropped his roller altogether and grappled full on with Harry, who had also discarded his brush in a bid to get the upper hand. However Draco tackled him and got him from behind by the waist, swinging him around as Harry wriggled and twisted, seizing his shoulders and trying to shove.
Back and forth they went, laughing and gasping as Harry flung his glasses out of harm's way and managed to actually drag Draco to the floorboards.
"Nice try Potter," Draco growled, rolling so he was on top, but Harry was fast and rolled them again before Draco could pin him down.
Harry was flushed and panting, a mad glint in his eyes now so green without the glasses to deflect the light. "Shut up Draco," he breathed, and dropped down to press their bodies together.
To kiss Draco.
He was so shocked to begin with he didn't know what to do. But then his brain kicked in with an almighty YES! And then he was wrapping his legs around Harry's body, seizing his sticky shirt to pull him even closer as his lips and tongue started fighting desperately with Harry's.
Harry – Harry? Harry! Harry was kissing him, finally, and it was bloody brilliant! All those idiotic day-dreams weren't a patch on the real thing, and Draco wasn't sure how long he got lost in the sensation for. But eventually he and Harry eased apart, gasping slightly and staring into each other's eyes. "I guess painting isn't that bad after all, hey?" Harry asked.
Draco just reached up and touched the side of his face, hardly daring to believe this was real. "I could stand to 'paint' a little more, I suppose," he said with a smirk, and pulled Harry back down for another kiss.
Oh yes, he could definitely put up with this kind of manual labour.
End