Disclaimer: I own nothing. Jo Rowling owns the Potterverse.

Warnings: Sexual innuendo and language.

A/N: Still taking prompts! :D

Prompt: Playstation

Harry sat in the chair and sighed. This was turning out to be another awful night. He stared morosely at Draco, whose eyes were glued to the TV screen. He hadn't even registered Harry's presence.
"Okay, Charlie; go round the back. We'll trap him!" Draco's voice was loud and excited. He spoke into the mouthpiece of the headset he wore, eagerly and expertly moving his thumbs on the controller.

Harry stared at Draco's long, slender fingers and licked his lips. It had been too long since he'd felt Draco's hands on him. Draco was always playing way into the night and Harry inevitably fell asleep before he came to bed.

He wished they'd never bought the bloody box.

Harry had gotten it for Draco as a joke. He'd gotten Draco to accept the TV grudgingly, admitting that it was useful for watching movies, which Harry had discovered the blond had a weakness for.

But he'd avowed that all other muggle contraptions were either useless, or less convenient and functional than wizarding ones. So Harry bought him a Playstation, and forced him to try it out.

Now Draco was hooked.

Harry was pretty sure he could perform a strip tease in front of Draco while he was playing, and get no reaction other than the blond trying to see around him.

It was very bad for the ego.

"Gamers," thought Harry with a sad shake of his head. "I'm going to bed now, Draco," he said aloud, in a sad voice. "Goodnight."

He got up and plodded up the stairs, feeling very unhappy. He crawled into bed and tried to sleep, but all he could think about was how Draco seemed to love his bloody Playstation more than Harry, and how he bloody missed Draco and how he was so horny and it wasn't fair.

He rolled over on his side, facing the wall, willing his tears not to fall. They didn't listen.

Suddenly there was a pressure on the other side of the bed; the unmistakable feeling of someone climbing onto the mattress beside him.

"What's wrong, love?" came Draco's voice, as he reached over and wiped the tears from Harry's face. His own face was a mask of worry.

Harry sniffled. "I thought you were playing."

Draco shrugged. "You were upset. Are upset. You're more important to me than a silly game."

Harry's breath caught and he started crying again. Draco shushed him, comforted him.

"What's wrong, love?" he repeated.

"You're always playing your game," Harry replied in a low voice. "I hardly see you except sitting there on the couch like a zombie, or talk to you anymore in conversations that don't consist of monosyllables because you're too distracted for anything else. I hate falling asleep alone, without you beside me. And we haven't had sex in ages."

The outburst left him drained, but it felt good to get it out. He added, "You've made me feel like I come second to that bloody box and I hate it. I wish I'd never bought it."

Draco was silent a moment. Then he spoke. "If you want, I'll get rid of it."

Harry stared. "Really?" he asked, hardly daring to believe what Draco had just said.

Draco gave him a tender look, stroked his cheek, and answered. "Really. I never meant to make you feel this way, and I'll try my best to make it up to you, okay?"

Harry smiled. He felt cared for for the first time in a while. "I guess you don't have to get rid of it," he responded. "Just limit your time spent playing on it. Make sure to spend some time with me too, and try to come to bed with me like you used to."

Draco smiled back. "Deal." His smile turned predatory. "Now, about that sex we haven't been having…" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry laughed. This was turning out to be a wonderful night.