lesyeuxverts | There were days

Ugh, I am absolutely desperate to keep my muse here today... she's booked plane tickets for Tahiti and I'm scrambling to keep her, because I AM going to finish my valensmut fic today, yes I AM. So if she wants to write Harry/Percy, then we write Harry/Percy. And then we will write our valensmut fic, we will. :)

Title: There were days
Author: lesyeuxverts
Word Count: 368
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Percy
Warnings: AU, I suppose
Disclaimer: Not mine.

There were days, when the sunlight was filtered through dusty windows, when the air was still and sultry, and when Harry licked beads of sweat from his upper lip – there were days when Percy wanted to touch him.

He spent hours thinking of nothing else – the slide of his hands on Harry's skin, the shape of Harry's pink lips, the stretch of muscle and tendon, the movements that they would make together. He left his paperwork, blotches of ink still shining wet, and went up to his father's cluttered office to drink tea out of a paper cup. His father's office was safe – Muggle machines hummed and spun, wires glittering with spells that replaced electricity, and Arthur never asked any questions.

There were days when Harry followed him – followed him up to Arthur's office, bringing sugar for the tea, followed him home, bringing curry and the hot, heavy smell of spices. There were days when Harry touched him, a hand on his elbow, a hand on his shoulder, and Percy trembled under his touch.

His flat seemed small and sterile when Harry was not there, but when he followed Percy there, it felt like home. Harry sprawled out in front of the fireplace, eating curry with chopsticks, Harry lying on his back with his feet up on the coffee table – Harry smiled at Percy, and the clutter of the apartment faded away. It never mattered when Harry was there.

Percy pushed his glasses up his nose and reached out to touch Harry. Their fingers brushed together as he took Harry's bowl, and he didn't look back as he went into the kitchen. Harry followed him, warm at his back, and when Percy tried to move away, Harry pinned him against the counter. "Touch me," he said, his breath a whisper against Percy's neck. "You always look at me as though you want to do it … touch me, Percy, please."

There were days that they spent in bed, touching each other – lazy Saturdays and Sundays, with the sunlight through the window warm on their bare skin. Percy kissed him, and Harry brought him tea and breakfast in bed. Harry left wrinkles in the sheets, and Percy never minded.