Drabble: Stay, Draco/Blaise
Title: Stay
Rating: PG
Pairing: Draco/Blaise
Summary: AU from quarantine_rpg verse. Draco recovers.
A/N: For sandra_lanimil, who forever bemoans the lack of Draco/Blaise around fandom. So I wrote some. (Though only ~350 words, because it is currently past 3 AM).
"Draco." A shaky, indrawn breath, dark hands against pale cheeks as Blaise cups Draco's face with uncharacteristic gentleness like he is something fragile, porcelain (and right now he is, he is, after the sickness that came so close to killing him, so close to taking away everything).
"Blaise." Silver lashes flutter slightly, and Draco leans into the touch, lips parting. "It's all right. I'm all right."
It is too much and not enough all at once, and Blaise feels like he is choking on all the words that want to bubble up out of him, all the things he should say or wants to say or needs to say that he can't force out. He gives up trying, just pulls Draco as close as he possibly can. His grip is no longer careful; he had meant it to be, perhaps, but he cannot help himself. The pale skin will have bruises, come tomorrow, where Blaise's fingers pressed too hard against bone still too close to the surface, the hard curves of ribs that cage a heart that could so easily have stopped beating. He can feel it now: the steady, low thud in Draco's chest, the throb of the pulse when Blaise presses his lips to Draco's neck.
Draco curls his arms around Blaise, snakes a hand up his shirt to slide his palm along the warm skin of his back, the curve of his spine. "I'm all right," he repeats, softer, like he doesn't quite believe it himself. "Tracey really can work miracles."
"Thank her another time," Blaise says. His voice is hoarse and his breath is hot against Draco's skin as he pushes him back down on the bed, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. "Amante. Eu pensei que tinha perdido você."
Draco swallows hard; Blaise feels the muscles of his throat work, and then familiar fingers curling tight into his hair. Draco does not speak, either, but his lips meet Blaise's, and he does not loosen his hold. Stay.
Draco does not need to say the word aloud.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Draco/Blaise
Summary: AU from quarantine_rpg verse. Draco recovers.
A/N: For sandra_lanimil, who forever bemoans the lack of Draco/Blaise around fandom. So I wrote some. (Though only ~350 words, because it is currently past 3 AM).
"Draco." A shaky, indrawn breath, dark hands against pale cheeks as Blaise cups Draco's face with uncharacteristic gentleness like he is something fragile, porcelain (and right now he is, he is, after the sickness that came so close to killing him, so close to taking away everything).
"Blaise." Silver lashes flutter slightly, and Draco leans into the touch, lips parting. "It's all right. I'm all right."
It is too much and not enough all at once, and Blaise feels like he is choking on all the words that want to bubble up out of him, all the things he should say or wants to say or needs to say that he can't force out. He gives up trying, just pulls Draco as close as he possibly can. His grip is no longer careful; he had meant it to be, perhaps, but he cannot help himself. The pale skin will have bruises, come tomorrow, where Blaise's fingers pressed too hard against bone still too close to the surface, the hard curves of ribs that cage a heart that could so easily have stopped beating. He can feel it now: the steady, low thud in Draco's chest, the throb of the pulse when Blaise presses his lips to Draco's neck.
Draco curls his arms around Blaise, snakes a hand up his shirt to slide his palm along the warm skin of his back, the curve of his spine. "I'm all right," he repeats, softer, like he doesn't quite believe it himself. "Tracey really can work miracles."
"Thank her another time," Blaise says. His voice is hoarse and his breath is hot against Draco's skin as he pushes him back down on the bed, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. "Amante. Eu pensei que tinha perdido você."
Draco swallows hard; Blaise feels the muscles of his throat work, and then familiar fingers curling tight into his hair. Draco does not speak, either, but his lips meet Blaise's, and he does not loosen his hold. Stay.
Draco does not need to say the word aloud.