prompt from my beloved @artemisthehuntress: “You have some flour... everywhere.”
harringrove, fluff, getting together
---
Max blinked in surprise. Her blue eyes wandered from her stepbrother to the hand-mixer to the mess of baking supplies scattered across the kitchen counter. “You have some flour... everywhere.”
“Yeah,” Billy snapped. “I noticed. Thank you so much for that witty observation, Maxine.”
The redhead flinched. The full-name shuffle was never good.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t get the fucking measurements right and I only have a few more hours until the party.”
Max glanced at the calendar and then back to the hand-mixer. “Tonight is Steve’s birthday party. Are you... Are you baking a cake for Steve Harrington’s birthday, dude?”
Billy flushed, glaring a hole through the plastic bowl he had tucked into the crook of his arm. Max could see already that the batter was lumpy and far too dry. They would definitely need to start over.
“Alright, so,” she rolled up her sleeves, “We’re going to need to re-organize a little and wipe the kitchen down, but we can definitely still make it in time.”
“Y-You’re gonna help me?” Billy seemed utterly gobsmacked at the idea. Max bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a snarky comeback; she knew how much worse he had it around here. The literal least she could do was not be an asshole all the time.
“Well yeah, Steve’s my friend, too. And I want partial credit.”
“Fine, but it was my idea.”
“Why does it need to be your idea?” Max raised her eyebrow. “Not that I care.”
“Just shut up and help me, please.”
“Fine, fine. Jeez.”
---
Max leaned against Lucas next to Steve’s huge pool and watched as Billy presented their (hideous) homemade vanilla birthday cake to the older teen. “He was so worked up about it I thought he was gonna bust a vein in his eye or something.”
“Really? Billy got upset over a cake?”
“He was very insistent that he get credit for the idea, too.”
“Adults are weird, dude. I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, me neither. Wanna go swimming?”
“For sure!”
---
“Y-You made it from scratch?” Steve asked, biting adorably at his full bottom lip. Billy had never been more jealous of someone else’s teeth.
“Yeah, pretty boy. Max helped a little, but I figured I could use the challenge.”
“No one’s ever made me a cake from scratch before,” Steve whispered. He quickly snapped his eyes to from the awkwardly frosted cake to Billy’s face, like he hadn’t meant for those words to be spoken aloud. “I mean, uh, thank you. I really like it.”
“No problem, Steve. Happy birthday, by the way. I got you a present, too, but I left it in my car.”
“I could... come get it with you?” Steve offered, setting the cake to the side where it would be safe. His fingers fumbled against each other awkwardly, tangling occasionally with the bottom hem of his polo. He was too fucking cute, it wasn’t fair.
“Sure.”
They didn’t come back to the party for a good, long while.
I'm sorry but I can't make it to our date tonight.
Draco
Harry read the letter for the tenth time now and it still didn't make much sense to him. Sure, it wasn't a big thing to cancel a date, but something about the way this was written seemed off.
It was too short, the letters roughly scrawled onto the parchment. This was so unlikely for Draco that he couldn't stop thinking about it.
They had met for the first time in six years at a ministry gala only three months ago and when Draco had grinned at him from across the room something had just snapped right into place. Harry couldn't resist walking over and talking to him, and now they were dating.
Well, if one could call it dating. He wasn't sure about that. Draco was sometimes very reserved, as if his mind was somewhere else, but Harry wasn't able to figure out what it was.
Tonight would have been their third official date and Harry had hoped to steal another kiss or two, but the letter had changed that. Now he couldn't stop worrying that something might have happened to Draco.
Staring at the waiting boxes of Chinese takeaway he had fetched for them, Harry made a decision. Grabbing Draco's box, he made his way towards his Floo. If Draco was alright he could drop off his share and leave again, if not—well, Harry would see what he could do when he arrived.
When Harry stepped out of Draco's Floo, he was greeted by a dimly lit study. Taking a look around he found nothing off, a few papers on the ground and to his own amusement, a plush dragon in the center of the room.
Grinning, he picked it up and sat it down on a chair before opening the door and stepping out in the corridor.
“Draco? Are you at home? I thought I'd drop by and give you your dinner!”
The apartment stayed silent for a second before Harry heard patting footsteps and the door at the far end opened a crack.
“Who are you?”
The voice was tiny but sure, and something about it reminded him of Draco in his first year at Hogwarts.
“I'm Harry Potter,” Harry said, confused. “Who are you?”
“Cast a Lumos and show me your face!” the tiny voice said, steady.
Huffing, Harry did as told, wondering if Draco got cursed and was de-aging now.
“Ohhhh!” The door opened wider and a tiny, blond, boy dressed in miniature Slytherin pyjamas stepped out into the corridor, staring at him with big eyes. “You really are Harry Potter! I saw you in the newspapers!”
“Yes, I really am Harry Potter,” Harry said grinning at the boy’s expression. “But I still don't know who you are?”
“Sorry, Mr. Potter! My name is Scorpius, Scorpius Malfoy! Daddy fell asleep on the sofa, we shouldn't wake him, Daddy was very tired today.”
Scorpius Malfoy? Daddy? Was that—how—? Sure he was gone for ages, but Draco never mentioned having a son, or a family that is.
“Oh, where is your mum? I had an appointment with your Daddy this evening and thought I'd bring him his dinner because he didn't make it,” Harry said, walking slowly towards the boy. He looked just like a tiny version of Draco.
“Mummy is gone. It's only me and Daddy. My babysitter got sick and she couldn't come. That's what Daddy told me. I'm very sad about it because she makes the best chocolate milk.”
Looking down into the small, devastated face, he felt his heart clench. Harry didn't need to know what had happened, neither did he need to know why Draco hadn't told him. They had been friends for about three months, only dating for a few weeks now, and he was sure Draco would have told him eventually. But what he did know was that he was totally able to make a pretty good chocolate milk himself.
“Why don't you show me where the kitchen is? We'll let Daddy sleep and I'll make you a chocolate milk. Then you can tell me if your babysitter's chocolate milk is better.”
A huge smile erupted on Scorpius’ face as he took Harry by his hand and pulled him towards the kitchen.
Thank you @mariahthemagician for your help with the beta 💜💜💜 I´m very happy you liked it!
Summary: Dean hates leg day. Hates working out at all, really. But it’s worth it when there’s a smokin’ dude with power thighs rocking the hack squat two machines over.
