Work Text:
"No," Harry shouted, cradling his injured arm close to his chest like Draco was the most unreasonable brute to ever live, like Draco was the one who had hurt him in the first place.
"Harry-" he started.
But Harry shook his head, stepping around their kitchen table, keeping the table between them. "No!" he repeated, "you're going to hurt me."
"For fuck's sake," he sighed. "You've brought this on yourself."
His husband's bottom lip protruded, wobbling precariously, "It's not my fault," he whined.
And it was ridiculous just how hard it was for Draco to resist the urge to give in and just give Harry whatever he wanted when he pouted like that. "Harry, I told you not-"
"It's not my fault!" he interrupted.
"It literally is!" Draco argued, taking counter measures to try to catch the other man.
He shook his head, darting out of Draco's reach and moving into their living room, putting the couch between them this time.
"Harry. I told you to leave the next door neighbor's new dog alone. I told you that he is an asshole and that he was going to tear into you."
"But it's not my fault!"
Draco rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, "You literally walked up to the fence and reached over it for him!"
"It's not my fault that he is so bloody adorable!" Harry whined. "What was I supposed to do? Just let it continue looking so cute without touching it?"
"Yes," Draco said reasonably, "as a matter of fact."
"I can't," he pouted.
Draco rolled his eyes, "Well, now you have to deal with the consequences," he said, waggling a potion at him. "We need to get this on your arm so that you don't get an infection."
"But it hurts," he whined.
"Harry," he said, ignoring the way his pouting made Draco's gut twist uncomfortably, "it will only hurt for a minute, then it will be better. It's probably hurt more in the time you've put it off than it will just having the wound healed."
His husband slumped, looking defeated.
"Come here," he cajoled, sitting down on the couch and waiting.
After one more second of indecision, Harry made his way over and plopped down next to him.
He held out a hand and Harry gingerly placed his forearm, wound up, in his palm. "That looks like it hurts," Draco said sympathetically.
Harry nodded.
"Okay," he murmured, tapping lightly with his wand to numb the area slightly before pouring the potion on the wounds. He watched as the wounds knit themselves together, Harry wincing and hissing his way through the healing process. Then once the wounds were closed, he cast a spell to clean his arm. "There," he said lightly, "good as new."
Harry pouted at him.
With a little laugh, he brought Harry's forearm to his lips and pressed a kiss to where the skin had healed. "And a kiss to make it better."
"Thanks," he mumbled a little shy, even after all this time together.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, "I love you, you know."
"I love you too. Thanks for fixing me up."
Draco smiled at him, "My pleasure, love. Happy to keep you safe," he added softly because it was true. Getting to love and take care of Harry was the greatest joy of his life. And it was something that he happily did until the day he died.