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15 August 2006 @ 08:14 pm
Five Reasons Why Today Sucked  
1. I read some Fuji/Yuuta and liked it. I feel hideously disturbed.

2. I put cheese on my spag bol and it was mouldy.

3. I got my first spot in two months and it's right on my chin.

4. I forget what four was.

5. terkey -- here is your drabble, brat. I didn't manage to make it funny at all. This is not my fault. I mean, if I had any actual control over what I wrote d'you think I'd be this shite at it? No. So there. Take it or leave it.





Harry/Bill



Every time, he swore it would be the last.


++


Harry sat on the terrace of his flat. There was ice in his whiskey and sun on the tiles, but his mind wandered to the front door. Bill always Apparated to the corridor outside -- always knocked first. 'In case you have someone else there,' Bill had explained, with the easy smile that pulled his scars into fantastical shapes.

Harry had wanted to say that he never had someone else there. That the only one he wanted was the one who was right there in front of him. But he didn't. He had promised.

A playful breeze ruffled his hair. It smelled of summer, with a promise of heat. Harry hated summer. Summer meant school holidays. It was an endless stretch of family obligations and barbeques and trips to the beach. Winter was the best season, when everything was shrouded in fog and getting caught in a rainstorm was an acceptable explanation for coming home late. At least, so Bill said. So he said, while he was licking the raindrops from Harry's throat. Slowly. Carefully. As though he'd break if Bill pushed too hard.

How could he explain that you couldn't break what was already broken? Bill of all people should have understood that.

The knocks sounded. Harry stiffened. Bill knew enough by now to come through if no one answered the door. There was a patter of movement, a creak of hinges.

Bill didn't immediately slip through the glass doors to the terrace. He sounded as if he was peeling the foil from a bottle of wine. Fleur didn't let him drink much these days. It was a bad example for the children; and besides, she didn't want him getting a drinker's belly.

Time unspooled, and still he was alone. Perhaps Bill was searching for him, although the flat was small and regrettably spartan in design and furnishing. There weren't many places to hide. Or perhaps Bill was just answering a call of nature. He'd have had to knock off work early to fit in this visit -- maybe skip lunch, too.

Harry was unprepared for the mouth that was crushed into his hair, the hands that smoothed the wrinkles of fabric across his shoulders. He might have fallen asleep while waiting. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Bill smelled of sandalwood soap. He'd thought it a good omen -- that they unwittingly used the same brand -- before Bill had mentioned in passing that he bought the same soap for The Maples. To foil Fleur. To make sure he didn't greet his children with the smell of a stranger clinging to his skin.

Bill never called the redbrick mansion he shared with Fleur and his four children 'home.' But there was no hope in that. It was just like the soap -- except that this was a ploy to throw his lover off the scent, not his wife.

Harry thought that one day his heart would crack and dry out, like clay left too long in an oven, from hating someone he loved so much. If it had happened yet, he wasn't aware of it. He probably wouldn't have any warning. He'd be fine one minute and the next: shattered. Too many pieces for anyone to mend.

"I've missed you."

Bill's mouth was hot against his cheek. He unwittingly flinched. Bill's arms, coiled tight as a helix around him, slackened slightly.

"Are you all right? You seem a bit tense."

Harry thought about the replies he could give. He had so many. Bill's visits were too few to satisfy, too many to do without. Nights without sleep, days earmarked for working Harry spent instead thinking over how he could say it, what words he could use to make Bill understand.

No matter how many dictionaries he consulted -- poems he read, songs he listened to -- it all came back to: I need you. I love you.

Please stay.


"I'm fine," he muttered at last. Fingers were skimming his ribs. He wondered if Bill could feel his heart under there. He seemed to be able to reach every other part.

"Come on, then." Bill stood up and reached down a hand.

Harry hesitated, like he always did. Bill didn't wait out his faltering. His large hands were circling his wrists, pulling him upright, moving down to slither across his back and hold him tight.

He never quite got over the shock of kissing Bill. The lips that were so soft and the tongue that was so big and hungry were a surprise every time. A lamp went skittering to the floor as Bill herded him inside, mouth still eating him up. There was a reason why he didn't have ornaments.

Bill undressed him roughly, liking it when he hitched a gasp at the pull of tendons or the scrape of cloth. When Harry was naked he closed his eyes, unable to bear looking at Bill's face.

"You're beautiful, Harry." One finger, the calluses long since faded, traced his jaw. "God, I want you right now."

"I know," he whispered. He did know. Want didn't mean need didn't mean love didn't mean anything.

The sex was nothing to him, everything to Bill. At least it was fair that they both desired something they could never really have.

After, Bill dropped a kiss on to his sweaty shoulder. Harry closed his eyes to the whisper of fabric.

"You're going?"

"I have to. Fleur's having --" Bill grunted; there was the shriek of a zipper "-- a dinner party tonight. I've got to be there to play host."

"Right," whispered Harry.

"You understand." Bill nuzzled the back of his head. Harry curled tighter around the pillow, not trusting himself to speak.

They'd both promised seven years ago that they wouldn't ask more of each other than they could give. Then again, that had been on a windswept moor in the middle of the fighting and neither of them expected to live to see the dawn. It was easy for the last time to be the second-last time -- and the third and the fourth and the twenty-fourth last time -- in those circumstances.

"No more," said Harry into the echoing silence of Bill's departure. He sat up and kicked away the stained sheets, rubbed his dry eyes.

The bottle of wine Bill had brought was half-empty. Harry hefted it thoughtfully as he wandered back out on to the terrace.

Next time, it would be his turn to bring the booze.


++


Next time, he swore he wouldn't leave.
 
 
Current Location: your mom
Current Mood: frustratedsucky
Current Music: Easy Lover (Phil Collins)
 
 
 
i must be fine cos my heart's still beating: ^^pornography on August 15th, 2006 07:40 pm (UTC)
What Fuji/Yuuta fic was this. shldjgh i really like fujicest :| It's my second PoT OTP, even.
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Eggsscoradh on August 15th, 2006 10:21 pm (UTC)
It was Eleven Days and One Night by werefox. I have the feeling that it's pretty well-known one? I only read it because I adored her Akutsu/Dan and sometimes there's writers that you just read everything by because, well, they rock. And the Fujicest is really funny. Although I haven't finished it yet.

Hey, I can imagine they're not related. Or that Yuuta was adopted. After all, they look nothing alike. :P
(Deleted comment)
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Cryscoradh on August 15th, 2006 10:16 pm (UTC)
Have you ever seen Mona Lisa Smile? There was a scene in it with Maggie Gyllenhaal and Ugly!Italian!Teacher that I couldn't get out of my head when I went to write this. Blame her and her pritty purple dress.

I'm always a bit funny about incest when used as an excuse to just write smut. But this is PoT, so there is at least some exploration of the issue.

It was pretty crap this morning, but damn if I can remember why. :P
Nicole: kongterkey on August 16th, 2006 02:57 am (UTC)
I'm a brat? You're a brat. You made me all wibbly. And after 10 hours at work, I so didn't need to be wibbly. Bill's a bastard and Harry's spineless, and yet it seems so real and so possible. I loved it. I will sing it's praises tomorrow, right now it is to bed for me.

I ♥ you!

PS - How's the massive H/D of Doom coming along?
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on August 16th, 2006 10:16 am (UTC)
I think they're both spineless bastards in this. I mean, Harry's enticing him into adultery what. I'm not glad it made you wibbly, but. [shrugs helplessly]

I'm hoping to post it within the week. Watch this space.
Nicoleterkey on August 16th, 2006 10:30 am (UTC)
Watch this space.

I always am.
empathic_siren on August 17th, 2006 12:59 am (UTC)
Oh. *OH* That was . . . well, it was devastating, brutal, sharp, and hopeless and so very, very real. You really captured, I think, what it's like to be these positions. Harry, knowing that what he wants is *wrong,* but needing it and wanting it so much, that he can't deny himself the few stolen moments in hopes that they will turn into something more. And Bill--rakish Bill who has a family, but can't seem to let Harry go, no matter how he hurts him. I wonder if he's even aware how painful this is for Harry. Beautiful.
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on August 17th, 2006 10:07 pm (UTC)
[scratches head] Ah, twarn't nuffin. No, really. If I'd had to write more on this topic, I sure couldn't have -- I wouldn't have been able to stop myself giving them a happy ending. ♥ I'm glad it sort of ... touched you, though? Because I guess it would be hard to like a story about adultery, huh. :)
empathic_siren on August 17th, 2006 10:22 pm (UTC)
It was hard to read, because the suffering was unrelenting. But that also made it very read and, in its own quiet way, quite profound. I may not *like* it, but I respond to it, which makes it all the more lovely.