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“I’ve made you coffee,” Draco says when Harry walks into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. Draco shouldn’t have stayed the night. He should have gone home, no matter how drunk they had gotten. They’d deserved to be drunk, they just solved their first proper case as Auror partners. With the criminal in custody and paper work done, there was nothing left to do for them than to have a celebratory night out.
Which ended with him crashing on Potter’s couch. And that really hadn’t been his best move. He doesn’t even know why he stayed long enough to make coffee instead of getting the hell out of there as soon as he woke up. Well, okay, he knows why he stayed. He stayed because his head is killing him. And he stayed because he simply couldn’t waste the chance to see Harry in the morning. Sleep-ruffled and just woken up. Usually that picture was something Draco let himself only dream about and he figured that he should take the chance as a once in a lifetime thing. See the chosen prat in pj’s and bedhead once and satisfy his longing. That’s what he told himself.
Draco hands Harry a mug with the steaming hot liquid and his heart skips a beat at the way Harry doesn’t seem to be quite awake yet.
Harry takes the mug in his own hand and smiles before crowding Draco against the counter so that he can reach behind him for a spoon.
“Thank you, babe,” he says and kisses Draco.
Square on the mouth. It is short, it is chaste - a peck really - but Draco is completely frozen. It takes Harry a moment to catch up and when he finally does, he freezes, too. Arm still reaching behind Draco, bringing their bodies incredibly close.
“Er,” he takes a step back and looks at Draco who seems just a little bit petrified.
“I’m sorry,” he says awkwardly and grimaces, “force of habit I s’ppose.”
Draco finally finds his voice again and snorts.
“What habit. You’ve been complaining to me about the lack of your love life for almost five months now.”
He can’t bring himself to look at Harry and stares at the marble tiles of the kitchen counter instead.
“Habits die hard,” Harry mumbles and seems to be a bit breathless.
“Who knew that kissing you would make you less of an insulting git,” he finally grins and places his mug on the counter, right onto the spot Draco had been staring at.
“Huh, what?”
“Kissing you. You being less of a git.”
Draco nods. “Sure.”
“You’re being so lovely in fact that I’m tempted to do it again,” Harry jokes. And it is obvious that he jokes because he says it with that little twinkle in his eye that he normally uses to deliver punch lines to horrible puns. Draco just can’t help himself when he says:
“I’m not stopping you.”
That makes Harry’s smile disappear. He takes a step towards Draco again and looks at him like he is a puzzle Harry is trying to solve. Like he is a wonder that Harry can’t quite understand. Harry pushes Draco’s fringe out of his eyes softly but doesn’t move any more than that. With the last shred of courage Draco can muster, he says:
“You know what makes me even less of a git? You calling me babe.”
He cringes at how needy it makes him sound and he feels like he is wearing his feelings on his sleeve, offering them to Harry on a silver platter.
Harry laughs shortly but it still makes Draco’s entire being tingle.
“Only if you continue to make me coffee in the mornings, babe.”
And then he kisses him for the second time that day. This time though, fully awake and Draco lets himself fall into it. Maybe crashing on his Partner’s couch hadn’t be his worst idea after all.