inspired by @rogueddie 's post. Right Here.
120 minutes
2 hours they have been standing in front of this stupid claw machine. All because Eddie saw something inside that he was desperate to get. Whatever it was he was refusing to tell Steve who was now pressed up against the wall between the claw machine and some arcade machine. He’s confident that the other has blown at least a hundred dollars trying to get whatever he wanted.
His tongue stuck out in concentration, refusing to let Steve talk to him as it would distract him. Steve doesn’t think much of what the other is doing. The other boy did wacky things all the time. This was one of those times as he waits patiently for the other to finish. Willing to stay all night if that meant he was able to spend time with Eddie.
Five minutes later, when the boy starts hopping up and down and throwing his hands excitedly in the air. Smiling brightly at Steve before he’s turning, bending down, and grabbing whatever he caught from the slot. Pulling it back and putting it behind his back quickly before Steve could see. Moving forward into his space, a smile tugged on the scar on his face. Not leaving any space between them. A look of confusion crossed over Steve’s face trying to figure out what the other was doing.
“So what did you win?” He asks curiously, wondering what the other had spent all that time on. Must’ve been worth it by the smile on his face.
“Oh nothing,” Eddie says tiling his head to the side dramatically. “Just, you know. A bat.” He takes the moment to pull the plushie up holding it by the wing as he dangles it in front of Steve who was starting to think confusion was his default setting.
“Oh?”
“Oh? A man spends two hours winning you a stuffed bat and all you have to say is oh?” Eddie’s teasing is continuous. Constantly wrapping itself around Steve with a soft flush as a result.
Steve begins to stutter over his words as he lifts his hand up, holding the stuffy carefully in both hands. His heart swells up as he realizes Eddie spent all that time for him. As the realization hits a dopey smile grows on Steve’s face, seemingly what Eddie had been searching for as his eyes flicker down to the other's lips. Moving a hand up and carefully setting it on the wall next to Steve’s head. Not caring how close they were. Both of their faces were pink and their hearts beating fast.
“So, watcha gonna name it?” Eddie asks with a smile, one that was reserved for Steve.
“Ozzy.”
“Holy shit, I am just a simple peasant to your royalty. Oh holy one, please grace me with your presence at mine tonight.” Eddie pulls back starting to bow down at the other as Steve laughs at his antics.
“Is that your way of asking me out?” He teases playfully.
“Yes, I guess it is,” Eddie responds, hand aimlessly moving to twirl the bat's wing with his finger as he smiles brightly at the other.
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This
It was too warm, a little stuffy, and for some reason wet just under his elbow. Harry wouldn’t so much call it a ‘blanket fort’ as he would a ‘gigantic mess perching for catastrophe’, but the smile was plastered so thick on his face that he couldn’t bring himself to say much of anything. Draco was on his belly, trailing sparkling little paths with his forefinger for Teddy to follow: to cry with delight, to babble and point at, to whine for more, more, more.
Harry got it. The same whine was stuck in his throat, throbbing under his breastbone. It smelled like Draco’s cologne, the sweet one he got in Waitrose, and like tomato ketchup for whatever reason. It felt soft, sticky to the touch, and unbearable.
Bearing it, still smiling. Harry wiggled and turned so he was on his back, tactically avoiding the wet patch with a pinging curve of his hips. Miraculously, Draco followed, resting his head on Harry’s belly. Teddy came too, warm fingers grabbing Harry’s hair, his eyes so big in his face.
“And that, Tedward, is—” Draco’s voice cracked on a yawn. “Leo minor, I believe.”
Harry had to crank his neck to lean forward, to kiss the crown of his head. “You believe?” he asked. Meant to snort, but it came out too fond.
“Might have got a touch—distracted. It’s your face, doing that.” Hiding his own in Harry’s shirt.
“Doing what?”
Draco mumbled something. Huffed, warm even through the fabric. “This… silly little grin. Not little. Not grin. This, Harry, you know. Melting thing.”
“Begging your pardon, you absolute arse,” laughing when Teddy’s babbling kicked up a notch, smiling and excited. Harry sent one arm out for Ted to crawl under, wrapped the other one around Draco, tried breathing. “What melting thing.”
Miserably, “The, thing. Where you… oh, come on, don’t make me say it,” one grey eye opening, finding his. “Just shut up and cuddle, hmm?”
Teddy was squiggling happily. On Harry's belly was an onslaught of deliberate tickling, of nips and fingers trailing under his shirt to pinch. “Oi!” but he couldn’t stop laughing, “Draco, stop, stop,” and Teddy was squealing, and Draco was vicious, was lovely, was warm and a little sticky, and avoiding the wet patch became a true art form, became meaningless. “Come—here,” grabbing Draco’s head with two hands, locking him into place and pasting a thick kiss right on his nose. “You impossible goon.”
“Me,” with incredulity, with his eyelashes. “I’m the impossible one. Are you hearing this, Teddington?”
“Just, hush,” choking on this bright starburst of affection, rolling his eyes, helpless. In his arms, two of the most childish, unbelievable people he knew, one of them a literal baby, and the other possibly the—whole width of his heart. Two people he loved so stickily and so frustratingly tight, that he couldn’t resist and would never want to.
The corners of the world were tittering—this ‘blanket fort’ wasn’t built to last. On the rug, for some reason wet, Harry closed his eyes with his chest fit to burst. Happy, he thought, and over-warm and teary, but not melting, not even close. Just… soft, the whole thing, the pillars of this blankety existence and also the look on Draco’s face.
“Hey,” a crackly whisper, “Harry, are—oh! You cheat,” roaring with laughter when Harry bit and tickled and antagonised in every way known to man with only one arm available. With Teddy egging him on and with, with, with all of this, the middle of their living room and a Thursday and a stupid blanket fort, not a blanket fort, a disaster.
“I—” the lump in his throat made it even harder. “Draco, it’s…”
“Your doom? Quite right,” in his brilliant smile and those eyes. “Come on, Tedfield, just like we practiced,” and together they went on the most uncoordinated attack, something that Harry could easily escape, if he wasn’t laughing so hard he was crying, if he wasn’t on the floor and a little drenched with mystery wetness that might have been ketchup. If he wanted to, when there was nothing he wanted but this.
Not his doom. His… this.
(Flufftober day 19. Find the soft AO3 collection here).
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