Disclaimer: No, I sadly do not own any of these characters, I just like making them do naughty things. They're J. K. Rowlings. I'm just borrowing them.
Warnings: This is slash. Both m/m and f/f. don't like it, don't read it. Flame me and I'll laugh at you because I warned you ahead of time. This is a Lime, and for all you people who don't know what that means, it has light sexual things in it. Nothing graphic. Implied sex.
Notes: This was a challenge fic that Pynk gave me. It had to be a really romance novel sappy romance between Harry and Ron. Harry had to be uke, it had to take place over summer break, and it have to center around Mac & Cheese somehow. Er, It didn't turn out as sappy and rampancy as I wanted it to, but shaddap. I also wrote this very quickly, and no, it doesn't have a plot, and switches scenes abruptly, but hey, that what romances do!
Summer's Passion A harlequin Romance type thingIt was finally summer. And summer meant summer vacation. And furthermore, summer meant spending summer vacation with the Weaselys. Normally, this would have been a good thing, but Harry was finding that he'd rather be avoiding Ron. Not that he didn't like Ron; because he did. Harry just wasn't too fond of the way his heart would unceremonious leap into his throat, making it impossible to speak around it and say coherent things. Or the way his head buzzed whenever Ron's hand brushed against his while he was reaching for a pencil. Not that they weren't good feelings; because they were, Harry just didn't know why he was feeling them
Harry sighed overdramatically as he looked out the train window, happy to dwell in his own misery. Ron and Heromine weren't though, and after exchanging glances, Ron roughly elbowed Harry in the side. Unfortunately, this caused Harry's head to fall from his hand where it had been resting, and into the window. 'Ow! What the hell was that for?' Harry snapped irritably, rubbing his forehead.
'Sorry Harry, but we've sort of been talking to you for the past twenty minutes.'
Harry's anger faded for a moment, and had his mouth open to apologize, when he paused to take in the scene in front of him. Ron had his fingers intertwined with Hermoine's, as would have been expected as they had been dating for three months now, but for some reason it enraged him. Harry snapped his mouth shut.
The rest of the trip was spent in a tense silence, Harry sulking and being melodramatic, Ron and Hermoine wondering what was wrong with Harry.
Some summer this was going to be, Ron thought venomously as he struggled with getting his and Hermoine's luggage from everyone else's. Harry had been very distant lately, and it was beginning to piss him off. They were supposed to be best friends, and unless he was mistaken, best friends didn't dash madly into the forbidden forest when the other one approaches him in a attempt to hide. That hadn't turned out well. Or, at least it hadn't for Harry. As soon as Harry had spotted him, he had leapt right into a big bunch of poison ivy. It served him right, too.
Ron dragged Hermoine's trunk over to her where she was standing and talking to Ginny, dropped it at her feet, said goodbye, and walked over to his parents, grumbling about painful ways for Harry to die all the while.
Harry on the other hand, was not fairing very well himself. He had fallen while retrieving his trunk, lost his glasses twice, and had somehow managed to find himself taking a verbal beating from Malfoy. Disgruntled and rather dusty, Harry made his way over to Ron and his family, not bothering to say his goodbyes to Hermoine. He just wanted to climb into bed and sleep forever, and he could owl her later. She'd understand.
Harry held true to that, collapsing into his bed as soon as they reached the burrow. He'd deal with Ron later, he could wait.
As it turned out, Ron couldn't wait, and woke Harry up the next morning clambering about the kitchen. Waking up to a horrible noise that sounded like someone was being painfully murdered, Harry sprang out of bed with a start, momentarily thinking that Voldemort was attacking… again. Calming slightly, he chided himself for that thought; it was probably just someone up late as he was, attempting to make breakfast. Harry crept downstairs still on an adrenaline high, and pushed open the door to the kitchen, meeting Ron's gaze with dilated pupils. Harry's heart constricted in his chest, and it was only when Ron looked away to scowl at the cupboards that Harry released the breath that he didn't know he was holding.
Ron was only wearing his pajama bottoms because of the summer heat, and Harry was suddenly very aware that he was alone in a room with a very bare-chested Ron, and felt the adrenaline that had begun to finally wear out return full force. Ron had finally gotten a position on the Quiditch team as a keeper, and Harry found himself admiring Ron's nicely toned chest. Harry mentally slapped himself, what the hell was wrong with him? This was Ron, his best friend, and another boy for God's sake!
Ron, uncomfortably aware of Harry's wide-eyed stare, cleared his throat. 'Uhm… G'morning Harry… We seem to be out of… erm… food.'
Yanking his gaze away from Ron's torso he asked, 'How can you be out of food?'
Ron began waving his arms around for good measure, 'I don't know, but we are. I checked everywhere! And there's no one here either, and I'm starving!'
Harry did a double take, "What do you mean no one's here? Someone's always here. You complain about it enough.'
'Well, yes. But we always went on this trip on the start of summer to go visit Muggle museums and stuff… you know my dad, but I insisted on staying home this time, so they already had left when I woke up. Percy never goes with them, so he's probably out shopping. Hopefully he woke up and discovered there was no food…" Ron knitted his eyebrows in deep thought, trailing off.
Harry shifted nervously from foot to foot, grateful that Ron had temporarily forgotten that he was mad at Harry, on the account that Ron was too hungry to remember anything important. 'There has to be something…' Harry suggested unhelpfully.
Ron scowled again, and banished a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, "I did find this. I think it's a Muggle thing though."
Harry's eyes brightened, 'Oh, I can make that.'
Ron eyed the blue box with a very pleasant looking thing that looked curiously like a bright yellow, very gay, sponge printed on it suspiciously, 'I don't know… It looks sort of…' Ron groped around for a word, 'interesting'
Harry plucked it from Ron's flingers, shivering slightly as their fingers brushed, 'Well, you don't really have a choice, do you?'
Ron's shoulder's slumped in defeat and he helped Harry gather the ingredients, which they luckily had most of. (Although they had to substitute some of the butter with yogurt)
As Harry stirred the mixture in the heated pan, Ron peered over Harry's shoulder curiously, (which wasn't difficult as the top of Harry's head only met Ron's chin) and put one hand on the counter next to Harry to steady himself, his arm lightly touching Harry's side. Harry stiffened at the sudden contact. He could feel Ron's breath on his neck and it caused goosebumps to quickly cover Harry's body, making him shiver despite the sticky heat in the kitchen. Harry let out a ragged breath and realized with a start that he was becoming painfully aroused. Good God no! He shouldn't be turned on by this. Harry Potter was not gay.
Ron shifted his weight slightly, pressing himself into Harry's back to see what Harry was doing easier, and Harry fought to suppress a moan. Ok. He was gay. Harry bit his lip. And he liked Ron. Shit.
Ron peered at him curiously, 'Harry, what are you doing?'
Harry realized that he had stopped stirring, had his eyes squeezed shut, and the bottom macaroni were burning unto the pan. 'Shit!'