...drabblefun!..!..!!
Jun. 21st, 2004 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkaI just wrote this silly over-long drabble, initially for Aja's 1,000-commentathon, but then I realized I could post it and like, do that thing where I ask people to um-- fire away and request more drabbles. I'm in a writerly mood, but like... I don't want to write the things I -should- write.
So. Ask-- and like, gimme a pairing and/or kink and/or situation-- hopefully all three, since saying "H/D" isn't likely to inspire me-- and I'll do the best I can to comment back with a drabble-type-thing. I mean, I can't guarrantee anything, but.
Whee! Fun(?) Something like that.
Harry had never asked himself what he'd gotten into, because as long as they remained separate, he wasn't -in- anything.
As long as he didn't look back, Malfoy wasn't looking at him like he had a right to. And as long as he didn't fall asleep in the first place, he wouldn't hear the other's muffled whispers in the dark. "You're mine, Potter," he said, as if saying made it true.
Perhaps the first time Malfoy whispered this should have been Harry's clue to make a fast getaway, because Malfoys were notorious for clinging to what's theirs, but Harry wasn't a coward. What did he care about Malfoy's little fantasies? They'd never had any agreement; Harry could stop anytime he liked, and besides, the blond knew better than to make a peep during daytime.
Harry smirked at what Malfoy's reaction would be if he got him a soft toy to hold; maybe then he'd remember Harry needed space. He wasn't there to make Malfoy feel better or to pretend this was a "thing", because it wasn't. It just wasn't.
They didn't sleep together often, mostly because Harry was too busy spending most of his time with his real friends and working harder than he'd ever had before this year. A part of it, though, was because of just this: Malfoy held him too tightly when he slept.
He curled around Harry like a surprisingly strong little monkey, wrapping his arms and legs around him with an intensity he never quite matched while awake. Harry hated this. He hated the awkward bruises Malfoy's nighttime 'cuddles' left, he hated the feeling of entrapment, and he hated the soft, pathetic snuffles in his ear. Malfoy was soft and vulnerable and naked and Harry couldn't bring himself to hurt him, to throw him off, to shout him awake, and he probably hated that the most.
Harry hated getting absolutely no sleep those nights, watching the wind move Malfoy's too-pale hair back and forth over his closed eyelids. The pointy face still looked sour and uppity and smug all at once; there was nothing new. It felt more perverse than fucking Malfoy somehow, this watching.
Sometimes Malfoy would shudder and whimper in his sleep, pursued by imaginary demons. Maybe it was Harry who chased him through his dreams.
"What're you still doing here?" Malfoy would drawl sleepily at dawn.
"You won't let me go," Harry answered resentfully. He was a breath away from petulant and it didn't matter. "You're hurting me," he added as Malfoy's arms squeezed tighter. "Do you have to be so grabby?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
Harry's silence was damning.
"Thought so," Malfoy whispered, but he didn't sound smug the way he should have, and Harry thought he may have been surprised.
"You're mine, Malfoy," Harry said slowly. At this, Malfoy's arms unlocked like Harry had turned a secret key, and the blond actually paled. "Might as well use my bed next time," he smirked.
So. Ask-- and like, gimme a pairing and/or kink and/or situation-- hopefully all three, since saying "H/D" isn't likely to inspire me-- and I'll do the best I can to comment back with a drabble-type-thing. I mean, I can't guarrantee anything, but.
Whee! Fun(?) Something like that.
Harry had never asked himself what he'd gotten into, because as long as they remained separate, he wasn't -in- anything.
As long as he didn't look back, Malfoy wasn't looking at him like he had a right to. And as long as he didn't fall asleep in the first place, he wouldn't hear the other's muffled whispers in the dark. "You're mine, Potter," he said, as if saying made it true.
Perhaps the first time Malfoy whispered this should have been Harry's clue to make a fast getaway, because Malfoys were notorious for clinging to what's theirs, but Harry wasn't a coward. What did he care about Malfoy's little fantasies? They'd never had any agreement; Harry could stop anytime he liked, and besides, the blond knew better than to make a peep during daytime.
Harry smirked at what Malfoy's reaction would be if he got him a soft toy to hold; maybe then he'd remember Harry needed space. He wasn't there to make Malfoy feel better or to pretend this was a "thing", because it wasn't. It just wasn't.
They didn't sleep together often, mostly because Harry was too busy spending most of his time with his real friends and working harder than he'd ever had before this year. A part of it, though, was because of just this: Malfoy held him too tightly when he slept.
He curled around Harry like a surprisingly strong little monkey, wrapping his arms and legs around him with an intensity he never quite matched while awake. Harry hated this. He hated the awkward bruises Malfoy's nighttime 'cuddles' left, he hated the feeling of entrapment, and he hated the soft, pathetic snuffles in his ear. Malfoy was soft and vulnerable and naked and Harry couldn't bring himself to hurt him, to throw him off, to shout him awake, and he probably hated that the most.
Harry hated getting absolutely no sleep those nights, watching the wind move Malfoy's too-pale hair back and forth over his closed eyelids. The pointy face still looked sour and uppity and smug all at once; there was nothing new. It felt more perverse than fucking Malfoy somehow, this watching.
Sometimes Malfoy would shudder and whimper in his sleep, pursued by imaginary demons. Maybe it was Harry who chased him through his dreams.
"What're you still doing here?" Malfoy would drawl sleepily at dawn.
"You won't let me go," Harry answered resentfully. He was a breath away from petulant and it didn't matter. "You're hurting me," he added as Malfoy's arms squeezed tighter. "Do you have to be so grabby?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
Harry's silence was damning.
"Thought so," Malfoy whispered, but he didn't sound smug the way he should have, and Harry thought he may have been surprised.
"You're mine, Malfoy," Harry said slowly. At this, Malfoy's arms unlocked like Harry had turned a secret key, and the blond actually paled. "Might as well use my bed next time," he smirked.
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Percy/Oliver, as ordered
Date: 2004-09-14 10:44 pm (UTC)"How do you expect us to go through that much milk in a week, pray tell? It'll spoil, and you know Martha is past the stage where she'll drink any."
"It's not like it'll poison her, otherwise she'd have thrown up by now." Oliver had learned to be reasonable when it came to Percy's little... issues the hard way. "And there are spells to keep it fresh, too, you know."
"Spells don't keep the milk in top condition, you idiot! At least don't come crying to me when you have a stomach-ache, because I won't have it."
"You really expect me to cry over some milk?" Oliver chuckled.
"You're laughing at me, aren't you," Percy said flatly. "I know you are. You're always doing it, and you think I can't tell because you falsely assume I don't notice the things I fail to remark upon."
Oliver laughed in earnest. "No, -now- I'm laughing at you."
"Well, suit yourself, then." Percy rolled up the grocery list parchment neatly and stuck it in a trouser pocket. "I won't wait for you to dress, understand? I'm leaving, and you may follow if you wish, but I won't stand for that sort of rudeness! I'm your boyfriend, not your mother."
"You know, I never would have realized that if you hadn't told me just now," Oliver grinned, pulling on a shirt.
Percy sniffed. "Do you mean to go out dressed in your sleeping wear?" he said, adjusting his glasses. "I'm not going to stop you of course, you're free to make your own choices on the matter. I'm only curious."
"Good to know," Oliver nodded, walking on ahead and out the door before Percy had moved past their airy kitchen. "Lock the door on the way out, all right? I'll go on and check things out and--"
"But the list!" Percy called after him.
"Don't need it!" Oliver yelled back.
"Like hell!" Percy muttered, adjusting his spectacles yet again. He was frowning as he slipped on his sensible shoes, knowing Oliver wouldn't actually rush ahead without him. Oliver was well aware of the consequences if he did things rashly.
While they walked (because Oliver needed to keep in shape, of course, and it wasn't that Percy was concerned so much as that he'd never shut up), he insisted on discussing the plan for the excursion-- Oliver would take the right, and Percy would take the left. They would divide up the necessary items and get whatever they each fancied out of whatever money was left over from the alloted sum.
As usual, they bumped into each other in the midst of the market. Oliver had stuffed every item on his half of the list in his arms, while naturally, Percy had a sensible cart he was currently pushing.
His whole face soured at the sight of those poor vegetables popping out behind Oliver's tanned elbows. "Put that down!" he hissed. "Greens are very sensitive to pressure, don't you understand, you could utterly ruin the flavor, you git."
Oliver smirked. "Oh no, trust me," he said. "The flavor keeps."
Re: Percy/Oliver, as ordered
Date: 2004-09-15 07:35 pm (UTC)...
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Thank you.