Hey everyone! Happy April 24th! This was originally posted on International Asexuality Day (April 6th). Anyway, I thought I'd share my latest fic, which originally fulfilling a prompt by @madeingold-arts/@reallyreal-madeingold, "Any f/f/f ship + hurt/comfort." Here is the link to it in Squidge World:
SquidgeWorld Archive, a project of Squidge.org
based on open-source code from the OTW
It's an updated/revised version of a fic I wrote last year, by adding over 900 more words, adding more scenes of Nana and Yasuko together, expanding emotional hurt/comfort themes and scenes, changing the summary, and placing in a few scene dividers. Here's the summary:
Yasuko is a young Japanese woman down on her luck. She came to England for her study abroad where she aims to examine the innerworkings of English municipalities with the help of local researchers. She keeps thinking about what she could have done differently with a woman she once loved. One night in a small English town, where she's renting an apartment, she comes across a hopping club. In no time at all, she's charmed by a fiery Japanese woman who happens to sing… in Japanese! After the set, Yasuko talks to this attractive former Japanese punk rocker. Sparks begin to fly. They soon realize they have a deep connection. It goes beyond a chance encounter which can easily be brushed away. While their meeting was not "fated" nor was it "destined," it surely will impact each of their lives in profound ways, more than either one of them had planned on that wintery night…
In the UK it’s always clear if the country’s/city’s team is losing in some popular sports as whenever you pass by a pub on some very important day where there’s a match or what not, you can understand that either they lost (violent profanities and yelling) or won (frantic screaming and loudly singing some chant/shanty/song).
Hello Everyone!!! Today we are taking a trip to the heart of Dublin to explore its oldest watering holes - The Brazen Head, The Old Storehouse, and The Palace Bar.
The Brazen Head: Located in Dublin's oldest area, this iconic pub has been quenching thirsts since 1198! It's got that old-world vibe with live traditional Irish music sessions that'll bring you back in time.
The Old Storehouse: This establishment was built around the 1830's, this gem is not just about the brews. It's also a haven for live music enthusiasts! Get ready to tap your feet to some authentic Irish tunes while drinking their delicious craft beers.
The Palace Bar: It has been established since 1823. This historic spot is known as a literary treasure trove. Many renowned Irish writers and poets have been said to have found inspiration within its walls. Get a pint and enjoy the atmosphere that inspired generations worth of creativity.
Each of these pubs has its own unique vibe and history, making them must-visit spots for anyone craving a taste of Dublin's rich cultural heritage.
Fox Mulder is a bartender in a pub. Dana Scully is a waitress who immediately catches his eye--her smile dazzling him.
December 23rd
O’Shea’s Pub
6 p.m.
“Two beers, a martini, and two shots of tequila,” Dana said with a sigh and Fox nodded with a smile.
“Coming up,” he said, reaching for two beer glasses, glancing at her as she waited, grabbing napkins and setting them on her tray. “They treating you alright?”
“Yup. The holidays are always good for business, people feeling more generous and happy, and the booze helps with that,” she said, winking at him and he laughed.
“Indeed they do.”
He made her drinks and placed them on the tray, watching her walk away, as always enjoying the way her hips swayed, her long red hair swishing in its ponytail.
“Excuse me? Could we get some drinks?”
He turned away from watching her and saw a group of people chatting and laughing as they sat down at the bar. Nodding, he went to help them, counting down the hours until midnight, when the bar would close for the holiday, giving all the employees a much needed two days off.
The bar became more crowded as the night wore on. People were happy, singing Christmas carols and dancing. Toasts were made, cheers joining the singing, and Fox saw Dana smiling as she shook her head.
Glancing at him, she walked over and he met her at the end of the bar.
“Just keep thinking about all the generous tips we’ll be getting. It’s worth listening to all the horrible singing.” She smiled at him and he nodded, about to say something when she spoke again. “I need three rum and Coke’s.”
“And here I thought you had come over to flirt with me,” he said, sticking out his lip in a pout.
“Oh, poor baby. Well, it’ll take you a few minutes to make the drinks, right? I suppose I can flirt with you until you’re finished,” she said with the smile that always made his knees feel weak.
He took extra long making the simple drinks, glancing at her as he did. She smiled at him with her chin in her hand, her fingers running slowly across the bar, asking for drink making tips. He shook his head as he placed the glasses on her tray.
“Is that your flirt game? I think it needs some work.”
“Haven’t ever had any complaints, so maybe the work lies with you,” she said, leaning close as she grabbed the tray. “Don’t stare at my ass as I walk away.”
“I will never promise that,” he said, his forearms on the bar, his face close to hers.
“Then I’ll add an extra bit of swing to it,” she said in a low voice, leaning even closer, her cheek ghosting against his own, the floral scent of her hair filling his senses. “Just for you.”
She pulled back before he could reply, picking up the tray and walking away, exaggerating the swing of her hips as she glanced back over her shoulder at him with a flirtatious grin.
Yeah. She’s good, he thought, his mouth dry as he cleared his throat, tending to another tipsy, laughing group of people.
Midnight striking, the last of the patrons putting on coats and singing We Wish You A Merry Christmas, Fox and Miguel, the other bartender, stood at the door, making sure they all left safely. When the last person left, the doors were locked and everyone inside cheered loudly.
Music was turned on and they took off their aprons, let their hair down and celebrated together, the drinks poured a bit stronger as they danced and sang. Little gifts were exchanged, silly things like yo-yos, joke books, extra large sunglasses, funny bobble headbands, whistles, and whoopie cushions.
Miguel read jokes and they all laughed when they heard the punchline, whistling loudly in approval. Maeve, another waitress, held a drink in her hand and wore the large sunglasses as she and Dana, wearing a Santa and reindeer headband, laughed and danced together. Carlos, a waiter, and Fox discussed football, arguing good-naturedly over stats.
At 1:30, most of them quite tipsy, they loaded into cabs or with family members who had come to pick them up, calling Merry Christmas to one another, hugging and kissing goodbye.
Fox watched Dana get into a cab with Maeve and he waved, walking down the street toward his apartment, humming under his breath, tired and slightly buzzed. The cold air in his lungs felt good, the warmth of the bar and alcohol in his system, making him feel flushed. Taking a deep breath, he smiled, ready to spend the next few days away from work.
Walking into his apartment, he took off his coat and drank down a large glass of water, before heading to the bathroom.
Showered and changed into a long sleeved gray Henley, black pajama bottoms, and wool socks, he plugged in his small artificial Christmas tree, the only light on in the room, and flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Turning on the television, he settled on a twenty four hour marathon of It’s a Wonderful Life, yawning as he crossed his arms and closed his eyes.
The sound of keys hitting the counter startled him awake. He squinted, glancing at the clock and saw it read 3:00. Closing his eyes with a groan, he shifted and then she was beside him, her arms wrapping around him.
“God, you smell good,” she mumbled into his chest and he smiled, kissing the top of her head.
“You do too,” he whispered, kissing her head again and breathing in the fresh floral scent of her shampoo.
“I had to take a shower, that’s why I’m later than I had planned. Some idiot customer spilled his drink on me earlier and it was making me feel nauseous on the cab ride home.”
“Oh, it was that and not the tequila slammers you were drinking?” he teased and she laughed softly, her fingernails scratching through his shirt at his side.
“You would know, you were the one pouring them.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling her closer with a sigh.
“I’m tired,” she said with a yawn. “But, I’m also really hungry.”
“Hmm,” he hummed again and she whined as he smiled. “Are you asking me to make you something to eat?”
“I mean, I came all the way over here. Packed to stay for a few days. The least you could do is make me some eggs.”
“And toast?”
“You have sourdough bread?”
“Don’t I always? Aside from when you eat it all and don’t replace it?”
“I don’t technically live here.”
“May as well, you’re here often enough.”
“Complaining about it?”
“About you being here?” he asked incredulously. “Why in the world would I ever complain about that?”
“That’s right,” she agreed with a contented sigh. “So…?”
“What?”
“So do it. Make me something to eat,” she whined and he chuckled.
“Madam, you will have to move first,” he said and she groaned, cuddling closer to him until her stomach growled loudly and they both laughed.
She smiled as she sat up, leaning forward to kiss him, before pulling back, her hand on his chest. He stood up, turning off the television as he followed her, his eyes once again dropping to her waist, unable to avoid staring at the swing of her hips.
Dana Scully. Quite possibly the most beautiful and amazing woman he had ever known.
The day she had walked into the bar looking for a job, a year and a half ago, he had fallen for her. With just a glance and a smile his way, he had been gone.
Funny, adventurous, kind, thoughtful, and intelligent, she had blown him away. She was everything he had ever wanted in a partner and within a month of meeting, they were dating.
He had told her he loved her on their first date. She had laughed, but did not say it back, not that he expected her to do so, being far more level headed than he. At the end of the night, she had taken his hand and pulled him into an alley, kissing him senseless and telling him she was about forty five percent, and he had laughed.
He worked hard at earning the remaining fifty five percent, each date the numbers rising and whispered into his ear as they said goodnight. On his birthday, four months after they had met, his humorous card had been signed simply:
I 100% you,
Dana
It had been the first night she stayed over and he had never been so happy. Eating breakfast together the next morning, her wearing only his Knicks t-shirt and her underwear, he had known she was his soulmate; the one person he was meant to love forever.
He smiled at her now, in her pink and black plaid pajama bottoms, an oversized black hoodie and the fuzzy red and green Santa socks he had given her last year, with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
God did he love her.
He made eggs for both of them, adding the leftover green onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes from the meal she had introduced the other night, which she called taco potatoes: baked potatoes topped with everything one would normally put into a taco.
Dana toasted the bread, taking out plates and cutlery as it cooked. Turning him around, she kissed him once, both of them laughing as she spun him back around, his socks slipping easily on his hardwood floor.
Sitting down to eat, she smiled, sliding the jar of raspberry jelly closer to him. He winked and began to add jelly to his toast as she took a bite of eggs, moaning happily.
They ate quietly and quickly, both of them hungry apparently. Cleaning up together, she bumped his hip and smiled at him.
“Can we open a gift now? My family always opens one gift on Christmas Eve.”
“I know they do. But… it’s barely Christmas Eve,” he countered and her mouth dropped open.
“How can you say that?”
“It’s not actually Christmas Eve, as eve implies nighttime.” She gestured to the dark night outside his living room windows and he shook his head. “It’s morning.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” she said and he raised a finger.
“What would you consider this time right now; Christmas Eve morning or Christmas Eve eve?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. He watched the internal struggle she was having in her mind and then she sighed loudly.
“Damn you and your logic. I hate it.”
“You don’t,” he said, pulling her close and smiling.
“I do.”
“Nah,” he said, locking his hands together behind her back and she shook her head.
“You think you’re so clever,” she said, looping her arms around his neck.
“I know I am,” he responded, kissing her gently, swaying back and forth. “But, you can open one of my gifts for you.”
“Really?” she asked excitedly. “Wait, I have one for you to open tonight. Let me get it.”
He smiled as he watched her rooting through one of the large tote bags she had brought with her, always bringing so much when she stayed the night with him. Picking out a gift wrapped in green paper with red candy canes, she smiled at him.
“Come on,” she said, reaching for his hand and pulling him toward the couch.
He stopped as she sat down, picking up one of her gifts from under his small tree. Joining her on the couch, sitting sideways and cross legged, she grinned as she gave him his gift.
“The Christmas Eve gift is usually like the lead up to the bigger gifts. So, this is just something small.” She shrugged and he smiled with a nod, setting the thin box for her beside him, ready for when he had opened his own.
Ripping the paper off, he opened the lid of the box and peeled back the tissue paper. Smiling, he took out the shirt and held it up, looking closer at the insignia of his favorite band.
“I love it,” he said, setting it down and leaning forward to kiss her. “Thank you, babe.”
“You’re welcome.”
He picked up the box beside him and handed it to her, excited for her to open the gift he had purchased weeks ago.
She ripped the paper carefully, just as she had done with every gift he had ever given her, which was both endearing and maddening. His leg began to bounce and she looked up at him with a smile.
“It’s nice paper,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t want to rip it.”
“I have a whole roll of it in the closet,” he said. “You can have all of it if you just rip it open.”
“I can’t and you know it. It’s something you love about me.”
“Yeah… it’s one of the things,” he agreed quietly with a slow smile and she leaned forward to kiss him.
“I love you too,” she whispered, leaning back to finish opening the gift.
Setting the paper gently on the coffee table, she opened the box, looking at the contents and then at him.
“What?”
“Here.” He took the items and laid them out as he spoke. “Reservations to Cedar Lodge Hotel for four days, lift tickets for skiing, a spa package, and tickets to the local ballet showing of The Nutcracker.”
“Fox…”
“We’ll leave tomorrow… well today, and come back on the morning of the 28th.”
“But… it’s Christmas. I…”
“I talked to your parents, explaining that you won’t be there for Christmas this year and your mom seemed quite pleased.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” she said sarcastically.
“Not like that,” he laughed. “More that she was happy for the reason you wouldn’t be there, that’s all.”
“Fox… this is too much.”
“I disagree.”
“And work? We’re only off for two days.”
“Everyone else is, we’re off for four.”
“I was going to wrap gifts tomorrow…”
“All done.”
“What?” she asked, frowning at him. “When did you do that?”
“Today before work,” he said with a smile “You brought them over last night-”
“Because you asked me to,” she interrupted. “You said we would wrap our gifts together tomorrow…” She shook her head, looking at the items again. “I don’t have the right clothes with me for a skiing trip.”
“We’ll stop by your place and get them, drop off the gifts at your parents, tell them Merry Christmas and be off.”
“You sneaky man,” she whispered, looking up at him. “You sneaky, wonderful man. God, I love you. One hundred percent.”
He smiled as she leaned forward, held his face in her hands, and kissed him softly, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips, pulling back and resting her forehead against his. “For the gift mostly, but for everything else you’ve done to make it happen. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he whispered, kissing her again and smiling at her.
“I only got you a shirt,” she said, shaking her head and he laughed softly.
“And I love it. I’ll wear it tomorrow.”
“I have other things for you.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you had nothing at all. I’m perfectly content with my shirt.”
“And I love you for it.”
“I know you do.”
They smiled at one another as his watch beeped from the bedroom. He looked at the clock and back at her.
“It’s late,” he said.
“Or is it early?” she asked cheekily and he laughed.
“We should get to bed, get some sleep. It’s a two hour drive to the hotel. With the bathroom breaks you’ll need and the stop to take a picture at this amazing spot I found, it will end up taking us about three hours,” he teased with a smile.
“Hey!” she yelled with a laugh, pushing at him. “You’re the one with the small bladder who insists we stop often, so shut up.”
He smiled, standing up and pulling her with him. A bit unsteady, their feet asleep, they held onto one another. He moved his hand to her neck, rubbing his thumb softly against her cheek.
“You wonderful man,” she whispered, gripping his shirt gently in her hands. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
They cleaned up their mess, turned off all the lights, but left the tree glowing as they went to his bedroom. Using the bathroom, they got into bed, cuddling close under the cold sheets.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered, her arm around his waist. He rubbed her arm and each of her fingers, humming as he kissed the top of her head.
“You’re welcome, hon.”
“It’s such a thoughtful gift, but… I’m worried.”
“About the trip?”
“No, not that at all.”
“Then why are you worried?”
“Well, I said the Christmas Eve gift was like the warm up one, the small one you get before the big gifts.”
“Right…”
“Your gift was very big for a Christmas Eve gift,” she said, as she hooked her leg over his. “Mine was a shirt, something small and easy to top. I’m just worried that you won’t be able to do the same.” He laughed and felt her answering laughter vibrating against his chest.
“I suppose we’ll just have to see then, won’t we?” he asked, rubbing her arm and fingers again, his touch lingering slightly on her ring finger, though she did not seem to notice.
“Yes,” she yawned, cuddling closer to him. “I suppose we will.”
He kissed her head and closed his eyes, his mind on the small black velvet box at the bottom of his packed suitcase, the diamond he had been saving for since June, sitting snugly within it.
Yes, he thought with an excited smile. Yes, we will.
_______________
December 27th
“So, you’ve had a good time?” he asked her as they lay cuddled together in a large chaise lounge in the living area of their suite, just back from their trip to the spa.
“Hmm,” she hummed, cuddling closer to him. “It’s been amazing. And capping it off with the day at the spa was perfect. My legs were so tired from skiing. In a good way, I mean. Not that I want you to think I was complaining about your gift.”
“I wasn’t thinking that at all,” he said with a chuckle. “My legs were tired too.”
“Okay good,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“We need to get up soon, we have to get ready for dinner.”
“Do we have to? Couldn’t we just stay here?” she whined, raising up to look at him and he shook his head.
“Reservations are for 6:00,” he said. “Can’t be changed.”
“Not… for any reason?” she asked, moving to straddle him, biting her lip and staring into his eyes.
“I said soon. We had to get going soon,” he said, his hands on her hips. “If we’re quick, we can do both.”
“Quick? No, no… we have time,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. He smiled, moving his hands down to her ass and squeezing gently, her fingers beginning to unbutton the flannel shirt he was wearing.
_______________________
“Can you help me with the clasp? I took it off for the massage,” she said, handing him the necklace he had given her for her birthday in February, and he nodded.
It was a small round amethyst, her birthstone, on a delicate silver chain. She very rarely took it off and it made him happy, knowing how much she loved it.
“There you go,” he said, securing the clasp and kissing the back of her neck, causing her to shiver and giggle. Turning around to look at him, she smiled.
“I love you,” she said and he grinned.
“I love you too. Now let’s get going. Reservations.”
“Right, the reservations,” she said, reaching for her coat. “Such a shame I have to cover this fabulous dress.”
“Just for the walk over, then you can take it off and dazzle everyone in the room,” he said, looking her up and down with a smile.
It was a black dress with lace capped sleeves, something he had learned when he had mistakenly called them simply sleeves, a scalloped lace v-neck that led to black buttons, a wide ribboned type belt, and a full skirt that twirled when she spun around.
“Oh, you better believe I will,” she said with a smile, putting her coat on and stopping at the mirror by the door to apply her lipstick.
“I know you will,” he said, putting on his own coat and waiting for her, holding the small velvet box in his right hand, his heart beating fast with anticipation.
“Okay, let’s go.” Smacking her lips, she turned around, sliding the lipstick into her pocket and smiling at him.
They walked out of the hotel and toward the restaurant, snow covering the ground, but the sidewalks clear. She had her arm looped through his, shivering slightly against him, humming out a sigh.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “Peaceful and a place I’d like to visit again.”
“Maybe in summer,” he suggested, his grip on the box in his pocket tightening.
“Maybe, yeah. It would be warmer for sure. We could go swimming. Maybe rent a cabin with a hot tub…” She pumped her eyebrows at him and he laughed.
“Maybe.” He nodded and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Hey, you know what? We never checked out the gazebo over there. Might be our last chance.”
“What about our reservation?”
“Oh, it will only take a minute. How long can you look at a gazebo anyway?”
“True,” she said as they turned and headed to the town gazebo decorated with lights, snow covering the top. “Unless I want to reenact the gazebo scene from The Sound of Music.”
“Which one?” he asked with a laugh.
“You seriously ask that? With this twirly dress?” she asked with an eyebrow raised.
“In those heels? In this weather?” he countered and she shook her head with a laugh.
“Fine, but just a warning that it may happen.”
“Forewarned is forearmed,” he said.
“Precisely.”
They reached the gazebo and she let go of his arm, looking around at the lights, the poinsettias filling the flower boxes on the outside of it, and the benches built in around it, humming Sixteen Going On Seventeen. Glancing at him with a smile, she made another loop, stopping by one of the flower boxes.
He let out a breath and took the box from his pocket, opened it, and dropped to one knee. She had her back to him and he waited, his heart pounding harder than it ever had before.
“You know I think it’s rather unfair that poinsettias only turn this beautiful red once a year. They’re such pretty flowers. But I suppose that’s what makes them worth the wait, right? Like most things in life, I suppose,” she said, turning around with a smile that disappeared when she saw him, her hand flying to her chest. “Fox… what are you doing?”
“I’d say it’s obvious, but you seem to be confused,” he teased softly.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, her hand now at her mouth as she shook her head and he laughed, reaching for her hand.
“Dana Scully,” he said, pulling her closer.
“Oh my God,” she said again, squeezing his hand.
“I never imagined meeting someone like you. Never believed in love at first sight before you walked past me and smiled… only smiled.” He smiled at her and she drew in a shaky breath. “Just a smile and I was already so gone.”
“Fox…” Tears were shining in her eyes and he smiled as he kissed her fingers.
“You make me happier than I ever thought possible. I love everything about you. The way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking. How you take things in before giving an answer, wanting to have all the information before speaking your mind. Your smile. The way you love- fully and completely, your heart so open and caring. The way you dance, completely unabandoned and free, not caring how it may look to others.”
“You’re making fun of my dancing?” she asked, with a hiccupy laugh, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Never. I love the way you dance,” he assured her, kissing her fingers again. “Everything about you is a reason to love you. I love you so much, Dana. I don’t think it’s possible to adequately describe just how much. But… I know that I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to find the words.“
“Fox…” she whispered, squeezing his fingers and letting out a deep breath.
“Dana,” he whispered, giving her knuckles a long kiss. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
She laughed, choked back a sob, and laughed again. Taking in a big breath, she smiled.
“One hundred percent.”
And in June, when the weather was warm, and the flower boxes around the outside of the gazebo were full of delicious smelling flowers, she told him so again, smiling as she slipped a gold band on his finger, her eyes shining with happy tears.
“Let him breathe, Gin. He just got in.” Ron laughed at the same time as Pansy shouted, “Beers for everyone. That’s the penalty for being late!”
Harry sportingly got a round for the table.
Suddenly, Hermione piped up, “So Harry, truth or dare?”
“Dare!” he said with a roguish smirk.
“I dare you to ask that blond for his number.” Hermione pointed towards the bar.
Harry huffed and turned to see a tall blond talking to the bartender. His exasperated expression morphed into a grin as he got up. “Hold my beer.”
“Isn't that Pansy’s friend from France?” Luna commented her head on Ginny’s shoulder.
“The one you’ve been trying to set Harry up with?” Ron asked.
“Draco.” Blaise nodded.
“Oh, is it?” Pansy innocently inquired squinting in the direction of the bar as Hermione smiled mischievously into her beer.
Written for the August Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge.
Prompt: Hold my butterbeer
Word count: 150
Thank you to the organisers, all the lovely folks over on Discord!
I imagine Pansy/Hermione, Blaise/Ron and Ginny/Luna as couples in this AU.
Harry bites his cuticle and his eyes drift again to the door of the pub.
The door opens and his heart leaps, slamming into his ribs. A couple dressed as a hunter and a deer enter and jovially greet another costumed couple already seated at the bar. Harry’s heart sinks into his roiling stomach.
He checks his watch, mind hollow with disbelief.
Fuck, is Malfoy going to stand him up?
He knew it had been a risky idea, on many levels. The couples costume situation aside — which was a hard sell in and of itself and had cost him 3 months’ worth of caramel frappuccinos — there was the added onus of fake dating.
Harry sighs. The cliché is cringe-worthy enough, not to mention Harry’s initial shock and deeply disturbing arousal at Draco agreeing to be his fake boyfriend in the first place. Harry can’t think about negotiating the terms of their fake relationship — touching and kissing is allowed, Potter — without his palms sweating. He had hardly been able to hold the pen to sign the document.
Touching and kissing. Malfoy had couched it so nonchalantly, as if it hadn’t been something Harry has thought about for months, obsessed over really, deep into sleepless nights. Harry wipes his hands on his legs.
Across the pub, raucous laughter explodes from a group Harry’s tried his best to ignore. He orders another beer and busies himself with adjusting his dungarees over his bare chest. One side of the coveralls hangs loose, exposing his pectoral. Draco had written that clause into their agreement and at the time, Harry had been so twitterpated over the touching and kissing clause he hadn’t balked at the request.
Now, with his nipple out, he regrets that he hadn’t negotiated better.
A clown at the bar gives Harry the eye, and he quickly re-attaches the strap.
“Has your delicate flower not yet arrived?”
Harry glances up and into a familiar face he had once fleetingly adored. Richard smiles. It annoys Harry that he used to think that crooked canine was charming.
“He’s running a bit late,” Harry says curtly, willing it to be true and simultaneously cursing Malfoy to a slow, painful death by a thousand cuts.
“If he even exists,” murmurs the young pup dressed like an angel hanging on Richard’s arm. Harry frowns.
“Now, now, my little devil,” Richard admonishes. “I’m sure he’ll show up.” His simper shifts to a leer. “And earn his pay,” he adds.
Harry bristles, but remains silent. If nothing else, he’s learned the futility of rising to Richard’s bait.
“Too bad if he doesn’t, though,” Richard says. He adjusts Harry’s straw hat and hooks a finger in a suspender, admiring Harry’s bare shoulders. Harry’s frown deepens.
“You do look quite fetching in your costume, Harry,” Richard says. “It was my brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.” He rubs his thumb over the denim, his lip affecting a pout Harry longs to slap off his smug face. “So sad. A gardener without his flower—”
“Reaps what he sows.”
Relief, and a sweet little shiver, spikes through Harry at that distinctive posh drawl. Before he can even turn his head to say hello — thank fuck — Malfoy unhands Richard with a sharp slap on the wrist, grabs Harry’s suspenders and hauls Harry against him for a kiss.
A toe-curling, luscious, hot kiss. With tongue.
Lots of tongue.
Harry dives into Draco’s mouth without hesitation, a response that thrills him and shocks him in equal measure. Catcalls and yells erupt around them, or maybe it’s the thrumming of Harry’s heart in his ears. No matter, because Malfoy is doing something with his tongue that’s melting Harry’s brain and setting his groin aflame.
“Hello, my gardener,” Malfoy says, purring against Harry’s gasp.
“Hi,” Harry manages, the only single syllable he can push past Malfoy's caramel-sweet taste coating the back of his tongue.
Malfoy gives Harry a wink, fluttering false lashes embellished with bright yellow fucking flower petals. Harry drops his gaze to roam over Malfoy. And fucking hell, if his brain wasn’t already oozing out of his ears from that kiss, Harry would be all over the floor.
On anyone else, the sunflower costume would be ridiculous. But Malfoy looks stunning, a vision in a green “flower stem” bodysuit that hugs every angle of his lean body.
“Fuck me,” Harry says breathlessly.
From within the center of an array of big, yellow petals encircling his face, Draco hums through his smirk. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, leaning into Harry’s side.
Harry collapses in on himself, biting back a groan.
A loud cough draws Draco’s attention back to Harry’s ex-boyfriend, what’s-his-name.
“You must be Dick,” Draco says, tone flat. He plucks the drink from Richard’s pet angel’s hand and downs it in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing elegantly in his swan-like throat. He sighs with satisfaction and, with a flourish, places the empty glass into Richard’s hands.
“Peace, love and sunflowers, motherfuckers,” he says with a shit-eating grin.
The angel sputters and Richard scoffs, stomping off in a huff, but Harry hardly has time to revel in victory, so riveted is he by Draco’s arse in his costume. He decides the divots cutting into the sides of Draco’s arse cheeks would fit his hands perfectly. He tests his theory, since he can, per the terms of his agreement.
“Your disgusting ex is easily cowed,” Draco says, tossing his head. The flower petals shift and shimmer.
“Who?” Harry asks, mesmerized by the feel of Draco’s firm muscle.
“Our little ruse worked, Harry.”
Draco’s soft tone gives Harry pause, and he realizes he’s palming Draco’s arse cheeks. “Er,” he blushes and holds his hands up passively. “Sorry, you just look, fuck, you look—” he exhales forcefully.
“I know,” Draco says. He drags his fingers over Harry’s bare shoulder, a yellow-polished fingertip catching on the metal clasp of the suspender. “Per the terms of our agreement, you were supposed to wear this strap open.”
“The clown freaked me out,” Harry admits. He’s not proud of it.
Draco’s laugh lights up his face, a bright sunflower Harry wants to kiss, now, later, forever. Draco guides Harry’s hands back to his body, settling them back on his arse.
Heat prickles behind Harry’s knees and he stills, remembering this is all part of the agreement. “Is, er, is Richard watching?”
Draco lifts a glittery brow. “Who?”
A surge of hope pinches Harry’s cheeks, lifting the corners of his mouth into a slow smile. His heart flutters. “About that contract—”
“I burned it.” Draco says, lifting a shoulder. “So, my gardener, now that my flower freely blossoms for you, what are you going to do about it?”
Harry leans in, flower petals kissing his cheeks. “I’m going to reap what I sow.”
* * *
Day 31 of Autumn Drarry Drabbles, y’all! First, HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🎃And we’ve made it, thirty-one ficlets in as many days! I sure hope y’all had as much fun with these as I had crafting them. I’m happy to bid this challenge farewell, but at the same time, sad it’s over. Bittersweet, to say the least. Thank you all for the kindness! Enjoy, this, the last. xo peach
EDIT: ok, because i am ridiculous...honestly i was such an idiot about this last fic. but i forgot to mention my lovelies who talked me off the ledge on this one. and i even have notes in my draft to remember to do this. I AM SORRY!! so thank you to toluene and @bonesliketambourines...couldn’t have finished this off without you! xo
work has fucked my mental health today. two panic attacks, throwing up on shift, and having to force myself not to cry. some days I really hate my job. but I will always speak out about my mental health as it’s okay to struggle and it’s okay to have bad days. I am still trying to be kinder to myself.
