Word Count: 1035

Warnings: NA

Hedging His Bets

The wrapped box was sitting with the rest of his work mail. Harry frowned. It wasn't the first one—in fact, it was the fourth that had come, in the same emerald and silver wrapping paper—but he was growing more and more uncomfortable with every delivery that was made.

He opened it slowly, sighing when he saw what was inside. His favourite chocolate. Which would be great if he knew who was sending the gifts. Since he didn't, and the sender seemed to know all of Harry's favourite things, Harry was beginning to wonder if he had a stalker.

"Are you okay?"

He turned to see Tom—his co-host and producer for the late night radio show—walking into the station, unwrapping the scarf from his neck as he did so.

"Fine," Harry replied automatically, a small smile lifting his lips. He couldn't help but smile at Tom. It was a whole problem, but he didn't know how to fix it.

"Ooh, chocolate," Tom said, glancing in the box. "At least we've got snacks for tonight, while we're on air."

Harry snorted, but shrugged. "Sure. Now all we need is a decent coffee machine, and we'll be all set."

"Your issues with the coffee maker are your issues," Tom teased as he took off his coat. "It works fine for me."

"I guess you're on coffee duty tonight then," Harry replied, grinning. "Because the thing absolutely hates me."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Like I'm not on coffee duty every night."

…

"You know, Harry, I'm surprised at you," Tom said later. The ON-AIR sign was lit up, and Harry arched his eyebrow at Tom across the desk. The other man merely smirked at him as he continued. "Of the two of us, I'd have thought that you'd be more excited that Valentines day swiftly approaches, and yet, you haven't made mention of it."

Harry groaned. "Why would you do that to me?" he asked, perhaps a little more theatrically than he usually would. "We got all the way to the eighth of February without mentioning the dreaded V-Day."

Tom arched his eyebrow. "You're not a fan?"

"I mean…" Harry sighed. "I suppose it's sweet, right? And it appeals to the romantic side of me, I guess. But maybe I'm just getting more cynical as I get older, I don't see why I should have a specific day to tell someone I love them. And also, it's kinda discriminatory towards single people, and since I am, at the moment, amidst the league of single people in the world, I'm not particularly looking forward to Valentine's Day."

"That was… quite the rant," Tom said. "I don't mind Valentine's Day. I think it's… overly fluffy, but give me a horror movie and a bowl of popcorn, and I can see the appeal."

"A horror movie is literally anti-valentines," Harry pointed out.

"Not if I'm with someone I love," Tom replied, grinning. "Then it's… romantic."

"Uh huh. Until they get startled by a jump-scare and suddenly you've got popcorn all over you and you've been hit in the face by a pillow," Harry replied.

Tom let out a startled laugh. "That sounds like experience talking. What about you, dear listeners? What are your thoughts on Valentine's day? The board is lighting up with calls, and we'll be with you, straight after we pay some bills."

Tom hit the advert button and took his headphones off. "Coffee then?"

Harry grinned at him and nodded. "Please. Two—"

"Sugars, splash of milk," Tom recited, waving him off. "I know how you take your coffee, Harry."

Harry watched him go and snorted, shaking his head.

…

"You've got another one," Tom said, when Harry arrived at work the next night. He gestured to the wrapped box on the desk.

Harry frowned.

"They've been coming weekly, I wonder why the sudden change." He stripped his coat and scarf, hanging them up to join Tom's, and then walked over to the desk. "This is just getting weird. Hermione thinks it's sweet, but Ron thinks I have a stalker."

Tom arched his eyebrow. "What do you think?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm leaning more towards a stalker. They seem to know everything about me, it's a bit weird, Tom. "

"Maybe it's someone who listens to the show," Tom said, shrugging. "You talk about things you like quite often after all."

Harry opened the box and then blinked. "I…"

"What is it?"

"A one-cup coffee maker," Harry said, looking up at Tom. "One of the simple ones, like I have at home."

"You were just saying yesterday—"

"To you," Harry interrupted. "I said it to you. I didn't say it on air."

Tom simply looked at him, something indefinable in his eyes.

"Tom… are these things from you?"

"You seemed concerned yesterday," Tom said softly. "And the last thing I intended to do was cause you to be uncomfortable. They were supposed to make you happy."

"I… why?"

"Harry," Tom murmured. "Why else would someone send you 'secret admirer' gifts, if not to woo you?"

"You… I didn't even know you liked me!" Harry defended. "You never said a word!"

"I was… building up to it," Tom admitted. "But given your discomfort with not knowing who they were from, I thought I should move the schedule up a little."

"You could have just… told me," Harry said. He walked around the desk, until he was standing right in front of Tom. Holding out his hand, he waited until Tom took it, and pulled him up to his feet. "I would have been receptive, Tom. Even without chocolates, and a new scarf, and a one-cup coffee maker."

"There's nothing wrong with hedging your bets," Tom pointed out. "May I take you on a date?"

"Will it be before Valentine's Day?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly.

"It can be, if you wish it."

Harry smiled. "Good. Because horror movies and popcorn sounds like an excellent plan for Valentine's day, but I think we should probably have at least one date before that, right?"

Tom smiled. "Of course, Harry. And I promise not to be mad if you spill popcorn and hit me in the head with a pillow."

"Deal."