Work Text:
It was quite a long day at work and after patrol, several reports to be written and escorting junior officer Ramón to St. Mungo’s, the interrogation of Hoven costed them several hours until he finally confessed to breed sphinxes.
Ron was exhausted to the point that he almost apparated to the wrong house. He’d just recently moved into his new apartment and out of Harry’s house at Grimmauld Place where he had lived for the past few years in post-divorce misery. To be honest the main reason for moving out was that it felt way to much like a marriage if you forgot the fact they didn’t have sex…which made him think weird thoughts about Harry and him. Like...that it wasn’t fair that Harry went out with some muggle or kissed men at a gay club that didn’t even appreciate him half as much as Ron did.
In general it got difficult to block out thoughts one shouldn’t have about their best mate.
He’d lost way too much sleep not-thinking about the way Harry had filled out so nicely now that he’d grown into himself and Ron forced him to eat regular meals. How the regular auror training and healthier food had made the muscles in his shoulders and back look touchable and proud how it tingled happily in Ron stomach when he saw the wrinkles around his eyes curl into a smile.
So he thought he’d bring some space between them to get over his stupid unrequited...whatever this was. He hadn’t taken into account how clingy his best friend was...who was now spending most nights in Ron guest room instead of his own home.
Thus, Ron wasn’t surprised to hear Harry’s voice when he entered his apartment. There was light shining from the crack of the living room door and Ron expected his friend to camp out in front of the TV...Ron’s dad had made it magic-compartible and while Ron had been fascinated at first Harry was the one that spend more time watching.
“Harry, I’m home!” he quietly shouted into the otherwise dark flat before clumsily getting out of his shoes and making his way to his bed room. There was no answer. Harry was probably still engrossed by some tv show that Ron didn’t get. Most of the shows Harry watched were really confusing. The lightning quick change of camera angles and the tons of caucasian, dark-blonde to brunet men and women with vague accents and relatable-boring lifes made it extremely difficult for Ron to keep track of the story.
There was the sound of voices other than Harry, probably the TV Ron concluded changing into more comfortable clothes. His faded, old sweatpants felt like heaven after a day in the tight, traditional pants that were part of the auror uniform.
When he entered the living room Ron discovered he wasn’t the only one who’d always fell asleep when watching TV. The first thing he notice coming though the door was that Neville was curled up snoring faintly in the only arm chair which, considering his size, looked pretty uncomfortable. He wouldn’t think that this man was headmaster of one of the most important wizarding schools in the world. This cuddly pile of human was a war veteran, a first-class wizard...and one if Ron’s oldest and most loyal friends.
He felt a big, dopey grin spread across his face as he took in the rest of the room. As tired as he was there was nothing better than coming home to see a couple of friendly faces when you expected to spent the evening lonely.
Neville’s wife Hannah was sitting on the far end of the couch a big bowl of crisps in her lap and only marginally acknowledging Ron’s presence but Luna Lovegood waved at him with enthusiasm and Harry’s eyes warmly greeted him.
The way Harry’s gaze always gravitated towards him settled dangerously warm into the that insecure spot of Ron’s soul that made him feel replaceable and needless. He both hated and loved the way his friend mustered his appearance, no doubt checking for injuries, and how his eyes stopped long enough on where his sweatpants covered loosely his midsection for Ron to feel that dumb hope that only hurt when he realised how bloody hopeless it was.
“You’re late.” muttered Harry, his eyes wandering back to the TV and he shuffled a bit to the side so Ron could squeeze himself between Luna and him on the sofa.
“I put a warming charm on your food." he said waving towards a styrofoam take-away container. Ron grinned even broader. His friends and food. Life was good.
Luna’s feet in his lap and the box with Indian butter-chicken in his hand (Harry knew exactly what he needed after a long day at work) he felt the tension of the day give way to a comfortable drowsiness. Harry leaned back a little and put his arm on the backrest behind Ron to give him more space to eat but his attention was already back at the TV show.
Ron gathered it was some kind of muggle auror show. He didn’t get how Harry could watch this for entertainment after already spending the day with it. The crimes were muggle crimes of course. No magical accidents, no aggressive sphinxes or angry chimeras, but humans were still humans. They still got jealous. They still abused their children and spouses and argued with their neighbours. People still fought and stole, scammed and murdered. Ron didn’t see the big difference between Hoven, who not even an hour ago admitted that he’d fed his unwanted squib daughters to his illegally-bred sphinxes, and the serial killer in the movie.
“what are you watching?” he asked as he began to chew and he really didn’t want to know.
Harry moved beside him and nicked a piece of broccoli from Ron take-away box before answering.
“The victims are young unregistered immigrants in America.” he explained dryly like it’s one of their cases and Ron concentrated on his voice and the food to not think about the way Harry leaned against his side.
“The hot girl officer is Mexican and can climb really fast.” interjected Luna pointing towards the screen and Ron silently agreed that the lady officer climbing a five meter high wall indeed looked pretty cool. Ron liked that her hair was really curly and poofy and she had mossy-green eyes that contrasted in the nicest way with her dark hair and warm skin. He’d always had a certain affinity to people that had a lot of hair to sink your hands in. maybe it had to do with Harry and Hermione both being king and queen of bed heads.
“Fluffy hair.” he nodded approvingly before forking more rice in his mouth.
“We’re mainly watching it for the gay subtext though.” explained Hannah sprinkling crisps on her knitted jumper.
Ron changed a fast, confused look with Harry who seemed a little red in the face at that comment. Harry usually didn’t bring up his sexual orientation around him and when homosexuality was mentioned he usually seemed to be a little uncomfortable. As if he expected Ron to disapprove of....not an unreasonable thought concidering that Harry had impregnated his baby sister three times before coming out as gay.
To be honest this was something Ron didn’t exactly liked to dwell on...it made him feel weird about the way he definitively did not check out Harry’s wet form whenever he stepped out of the communal showers at work.
In that moment there was a camera cut showing an apartment and two men at the kitchen table. Both were middle-aged, quite fit but not too build and had well-proportioned but pretty average faces. One was a slightly taller and dark blond, the other one was brunet. Both had a carefully-kept three-days stubble and looked handsomely weary as they drunk coffee in the middle of the night.
“they share an apartment.” mumbled Luna beside him as if that was an explanation. “As if they don’t they don’t spent enough time together working together...”
The men in the TV kept having meaningful eye-contact that was emphasised by several camera cuts to the actors faces. “what’s subtext.” Ron grumbled with a yawn and stuffed the last rest of his dinner in his mouth. Watching TV always made him tired. Harry took the styrofoam box from his lap. His arm slipped from the armrest and he gripped Ron’s shoulder to keep his balance as he leaned forward to stack the take-away container with others on the floor next to the coffee table.
When he went back to his sitting position the arm stayed on Ron’s shoulder, while his eyes were still glued to the screen.
The muggle auror with the blond hair ruffled the brunet actor’s hair and spoke about insomnia. Ron felt his eyelid grow heavier. He yawned again and leaned slightly against Harry. He could smell that Harry had showered. He smelled like soap and the expensive aftershave that Bill and Fleur had given Ron for Christmas. Ron always pretended he didn’t notice that Harry nicked some when he took a shower at Ron’s flat. It was kind of nice that Harry smelled like him.
Through half-closed eyes he mustered the lean column of Harry’s neck. He wanted nothing more than to bury his nose that cove formed by the neck the trapezius and the clavicle. Breath him in and just sleep.
“It means that they build up character relations that could be interpreted as gay...like… them calling each other the most important person, them living together, the way they touch each other...the way the camera and the music is chosen...” Luna sounded weirdly reasonable it’s kind of creepy, because she’s not normal. She’s brilliant in her own loony way, but she’s anything but normal.
“I mean, if those characters were a man and a woman, they’d be each other's love interest.”
Harry hummed and his voice sounded so close and relaxed that Ron wanted to curl up in it. He slipped a little deeper into his seat and yawning again he gave up trying to keep his eyes open. Merlin’s hairy balls, he was so tired.
“They do that to pander to an audience that wants to see itself on TV...like...they’re hungry for a gay character that is not murdered, tragically sick or evil. It’s...nice to see a character being okay for once.” Harry sounded so longingly that Ron cracked an eye open again. The muggle auror blokes on the TV were standing so close together they seemed to be almost kissing. They didn’t though.
Harry knew from experience just as well as Ron that aurors usually don’t stand together so close together on an investigation...or have the time to stare meaningful but useless into their partner’s eyes.
He still looked like he wanted that though.
Maybe he was lonely...having sex with random muggle men never had seemed like it made Harry really happy though Ron was very careful to not point that out. He believed that Harry needed someone to make him feel loved and at home more than random sex...it was easier hating random blokes in some muggle gay club though than someone that Harry actually cared about...he was a jealous git, but Ron still wanted his friend to be happy.
“Don’t get your hopes up...they probably pull some girl out of the hat at the last minute to get the token heterosexual love interest in.” muttered Luna.
“shut up, Luna, they’re meant for each other.” pouted Hannah and stuffed another handful of crisps in his mouth.
“The Mexican lady is pretty cool.” mumbled Ron as his eyes slipped close again. He hoped he was decently subtle he leaned his head again Harry’s flank and listened to his friends' playful bickering as he fell asleep. he’s not sure if he’s dreaming it, but it felt like there was a hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Luna woke him up accidentally as she bumped into him when she stood up. He scrunched up his face as he tried to mobilise his sleepy brain enough to analyse the situation. The TV screen was dark and Luna was currently pulling on her coat and shoes.
Harry was still solid against his side, but his arm had disappeared from his shoulder. Ron shuddered and felt suddenly a little cold. It was getting closer to fall, maybe he should start to turn on the heating again.
Hannah was squatting in front of the armchair across the room and talking to her husband who was looking at her blearily. The textured fabric of the armrest had left imprints on Neville’s cheek and he seemed positively disgruntled about the prospect of going home or changing his position in any way.
“Hannah, Nev...you can sleep in the guest room if you want.” He heard himself suggest and Harry next to him stiffened a bit. Usually the guest room was were Harry slept.
Hannah seemed a bit sceptically, but Neville had already gotten to his feet shuffled towards the guest room and she followed him quickly with a hushed “Thanks” over her shoulder.
“I don’t want to go home.” said Harry and looked down on the hands in his lap.
“It's alright, Harry. You can have my bed. I sleep on the couch…’m too tired to care where I sleep.”
The opposition glittered in Harry’s eyes and it took them another five minutes of unneeded discussion until Ron finally had his peace and flopped sideways on the couch. He barely managed to pull a knitted plaid over his body before he was drifting off.
Two hours later he was wide awake with the image of Harry looking longingly at the TV burned into his conscience.
He stared at the ceiling and thought of the two characters that were aurors (though the muggle variant) like Harry and him. That spent together the majority of the day at work like Harry and him. That still spent most of the free time together…like Harry and him.
Ron wanted to hit himself with a bludger. How could he be so stupid.
Harry was spending the night at his apartment more often than not. He went out of his way to use Ron’s aftershave and shampoo to smell like him. Sometimes Ron found him wearing his jumpers, looking weirdly tiny for a man of above average height.
The more Ron thought about it, the more memories his traitorous brain supplied. Images flooded his mind of Harry and him hugging back when Harry almost got drowned by the locket, of Harry drunk and crying the evening before Ron’s wedding, Harry laughing and kissing his temple after that one case that they thought they wouldn’t survive and the way he held his hand for hours when Ron was out of it in that blasted cavern last year.
Ron sat up and almost violently rubbed both hands against his face. He groaned.
How is it even possible for so much daftness to fit into a single human brain?
And he thought back to earlier that evening. About Harry making sure he’d sit beside him and being not very subtle about putting his arm around his shoulders...the way he pressed his thighs against Ron’s under the pretence that there wasn’t enough space on the couch.
Harry held him in his arm while he slept for Merlin’s sake.
Ron found himself standing in front of Harry in his bed before he could even rationally plan out the action.
Harry was still awake. He looked exhausted.
“Ron...what are you doing here...” he mumbled and sat up cross-legged.
“Ron...are you sleep-walking? Are you awake?” Harry added when he didn’t answer.
There were a lot of words in Ron heart and a lot of feelings in his head...or the other way around. But his mouth didn't know how to say anything and now that he was standing right before Harry he wasn’t that sure any more. What if he’s made everything up? What if he botched up their friendship?
Numbly he took notice of Harry getting a little spooked by his silence but it was like he was frozen by the overwhelming fear to muck things up between them.
“Ron...” muttered Harry pleading and gently touched the body part closest to him. Ron’s sweatpants-covered leg. His hand was so warm it felt like it was burning right through the fabric.
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but there are no words coming and he stumbled a little and awkwardly, more or less voluntarily leaned above Harry one hand placed next to Harry hip on the mattress to not flop down completely and he watched the way his friends eyes ghosted over his face and shot down to his lips when he licked them and he was still scared but this was still Harry and he trusted him.
Like that he kissed him.
First on the cheekbone and Harry just sat there completely still.
Then on the soft flesh right next to the nose nuzzling against the skin. His stubble burned against his lips. Harry's hands came up to claw into the hair at the back of the neck to pull him with him as he laid down. Ron looked down on him as the black hair spilled over the white pillow. Harry’s cheeks and face war redder than he’d ever thought was possible with the darker complexion.
“Mate.” he rumbled and it’s like a plea. This man is so beautiful and powerful and so bloody important and Harry whimpered to answer and the sound burned his way down his spine to the groin and the next kiss was on the lips and just right.
He’s a little timid at first, he’s never kissed a man beside his cousin Tiberius and that doesn’t count. Harry however kissed back like a drowning man. He nipped at his lips and ripped at his shirt and hair to get him closer and made that needy sounds that make Ron feel a bit guilty for not kissing him earlier. There are teeth and tongues and hands everywhere and Harry’s crotch pressing insistently against his as two legs came up on both sides of his hips. They fit together perfectly. Like Ron’s hips were made to be so thin just so that they slot so nicely between Harry’s powerful thighs. As Ron covered him completely Harry is easily able to support his weight. Ron didn’t need to worry about crushing him as he slipped his hands under the shirt and the torso pressed into his palms like a fitting puzzle piece.
Harry wanted this. He wants him and Ron’s mind felt all mushy from that realisation.
“Mate.” he puffed against kiss-swollen lips and leans back a little to look at Harry’s face. Harry’s mouth grasped in direction of his own. Harry’s eyes were half-closed and he looked so vulnerable and so strong at the same time and Ron was sure this was right, but he still wanted to hear it.
“We have a gay subtext, don’t we?” he muttered.
Harry blinked.
His lips stretch into a broad grin.
“Honestly...” he laughed quietly and Ron tried to remember when Harry started to grope his butt.
Not that he would complain though.
“We had subtext for decades, but thanks for noticing.” huffed Harry and the words hitched when Ron pushed his groin against his in the most delicious way, so he repeated that action.
Harry groaned.
Ron felt the grin grow on his face.
“Well you could have just said something. You know how dense I am...” He wormed a hand between their bodies and it’s good thing that sweatpants and pyjamas are so loose around the hips because he can easily push them out of the way and Harry is basically begging to be touched by the time he wrapped the hand around their genitals.
It takes them an embarrassingly short time to finish.
Harry’s a sticky mess as Ron finally rolled off of him and beside him. His arms came up to help Ron pull off his shirt. He’s beautiful.
“Mate.” Ron muttered and pulled him close.
He nuzzled his nose into the little cove formed by neck, clavicle and the trapezius were it smells like sex, like Harry and like Ron’s aftershave.
He listened to his Harry’s breath and the soft rumble of an I love you and all was well.