A/N: I'm shocked and so, so amazed at the positive attention this story is getting. Sorry I'm not replying to more reviews... I'm away from my computer for large parts of the day at the moment (sob) but I appreciate each and every one of them. For anyone reading Et Dona Ferentes, I'll try and update it tomorrow for you. Thank you all so much for your patience!

Harry yawned through his lunch and after clearing up, Charlie carried him through to the wide, low sofa that looked out of the glass wall onto the hazy afternoon sun and the mountains.

"'M not tired," Harry protested.

"Yes, you are. Not that I'm surprised, seeing as you spent all morning flying about."

"Don't go."

"I won't."

Charlie took the outside edge of the sofa, leaving Harry to lie with his back to the cushions and his head on Charlie's chest, looking out over the spectacular view. Too soon to hold any credence to his protests, he was asleep. Charlie smiled indulgently and gently threaded his fingers through blue-black hair over and over to soothe and calm them both. He felt no desire to read or otherwise distract himself and instead, just basked in the feeling of rightness and home that accompanied having Harry in his arms.

Charlie was woken by the cat jumping up onto his chest and meowing loudly, wanting to be fed. Harry stirred and nuzzled in to Charlie's neck further, murmuring something incomprehensible and leaving wet kisses on stubbled skin.

"I think I've developed a redhead fetish," Harry admitted. "I was dreaming about you."

Charlie scratched behind Puff's ears to placate the feline momentarily. "That's not news. I could have told you that years ago."

As Harry stretched he gave Charlie an indulgent smile, then went to swing his legs over the edge of the sofa to get up, forgetting his recent disability. The result was a loud thud as he landed on his arse on the floor. Charlie sat up immediately, displacing Puff with little concern and leaned over the side of the sofa.

Harry wore a shocked expression that forced Charlie to press his lips together to stop himself from laughing.

"Ow," Harry said, rubbing his bum with the palm of his hand.

That was all it took for Charlie to burst out laughing. "Oh baby. I'm sorry," he said through his giggles.

"You're mean," Harry sulked as Charlie reached down and pulled him back up onto his lap, graciously rubbing Harry's bum for him. Harry tucked his head under Charlie's chin and sulked as he was rocked like a child with a scraped knee.

"Come on, I'll make you your favourite for dinner."

Frowning, Harry asked "What's my favourite dinner?"

"When it's my turn to cook," Charlie teased. It was Harry's turn to snort with laughter.

"I can cook," he protested.

"Want to help?"

"Mhmm."

With Harry already cradled on his lap it was easy for Charlie to lift him up and carry him through to the kitchen where he sat on the counter next to the hob. This routine – cooking together – was familiar and a welcome distraction. To be fair, they were both good at cooking, Harry having learned in the first ten years of his life and Charlie in the past ten, while living alone.

His duties were reduced to stirring the thick tomato sauce for the pasta that was boiling merrily away on the other side of the hob (where it couldn't spill and scald him). They developed a system: Charlie would chop the vegetables and Harry would stir them in. Childish though it was, Harry couldn't help but be thrilled with Charlie's refusal to treat him any differently.

While they let the sauce simmer Charlie made garlic bread and put it in the oven, then stood between Harry's legs and kissed him slowly but thoroughly, searching for reassurances and giving his own. He gripped strong thighs that he knew had been reduced to incompetency while Harry twined his fingers in the shorter hairs at the base of Charlie's neck.

These were the kisses of two men who intimately knew the lines and curves and contours of each other's lips and tongues and mouths. Kisses that couldn't be counted or really even defined from what could be just breathing with one mouth pressed against another.

xXx

Charlie was woken not by noise or motion, but the instinctive knowledge that his partner was in pain. Harry whimpered in his sleep and Charlie woke him with gentle kisses on his bare shoulder and cheek, murmuring softly until Harry was awake and actively crying out in pain.

"Harry. Harry, what's wrong?"

"Cramp," Harry groaned.

"Where?"

"Leg..."

Charlie had already thrown the duvet back and sat up, shifting round so he could pull Harry's leg into his lap. With strong, sure fingers he worked the muscles that Harry couldn't tense himself; digging his thumbs in deep and causing Harry to cry out again, knowing that this was the best way to ease the pain.

"I'm sorry," he murmured gently. "Nearly there."

Harry nodded. The sheets were bunched in his hands and his teeth were chewing his lip so hard Charlie was worried he might draw blood.

Moment by moment, Harry started to relax until Charlie was pretty sure the other man was just enjoying the gentle attention of the massage. Through his sleep dazed brain, Charlie moved down to gently rub the muscles in Harry's foot, just in case, and was going to start on the other leg when Harry shook his head and opened his arms.

"I'm better, now. Come here."

Charlie settled with his head on Harry's chest, this position so familiar to them both. Harry sighed and Charlie snuggled until he found that spot where he could hear Harry's heartbeat through his chest.

"Sorry to wake you up."

"I don't mind. Do you think you can sleep again?"

Harry yawned widely. "Yeah. Don't move though. I like you there."