Snow? Again? Are you kidding me?
Title: Same Difference
Author: asphyxiate_muse aka. ryukoishida
Part: Standalone
Genre: Romance, fluff
Rating: PG
Pairing: Pudd (Dougie/Harry)
Summary: Dougie hates hailing; Harry decides he needs a good distraction.
Word count: 408
Disclaimer: McFly boys are not mine. I only own the plot bunny.
A/N: It’s like freaking hailing/snowing (a lot) in Vancouver right now. It’s about time I write some Pudd fluff in this comm.
You moan, disgruntled at the sight before your eyes outside the window of the flat. Tiny, white hailstones are ricocheting against the glass, creating a ragged, sharp tempo of pitter-patter percussion that somehow weaves nicely into the music that’s currently playing from the stereo in the living-room. You can also feel a pair of (probably amused) eyes looking at your back.
“What’s the matter?” he asks as you slide off from the windowsill and shuffle (your sock-clad feet making a dull sound against the wooden floorboard) back to where your boyfriend is sitting with a book in his lap.
“Look,” you point towards the window with a sigh. He glances at the direction you indicate and raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t see what’s wrong with the picture. “What?”
“It’s hailing,” you say this solemnly (‘in bloody March’, you want to add in), shaking your head.
“I thought you like the white stuff,” he places his book on the coffee table, chuckling as he turns to you (you notice how the end of his eyes crinkle slightly when he does this, and how the sapphire hue in his irises seems to lighten when he’s in a good mood).
“Not hail,” you sound like an indignant child (not that you care), crossing your arms importantly as you glare out at the offending spectacle again. “There’s a big difference between that and snow. You can’t play outside when it’s hailing - it hurts like hell, for one thing, and you can’t pack them into snowballs or make snowman. Plus, I can’t stand that horrible…” your sentence wavers in the still air when you feel his large hand on your cheek; you allow him to turn your head towards his (gentle, calloused fingers caressing in a hypnotic rhythm).
“You’re rambling again,” he whispers in your ear, warm, moist breaths ghosting over your sensitive skin. “And anyway…” his lips now hover dangerously close to the corner of yours (you can’t move - as usual when he’s in extremely close proximity). “Snow… hail… whatever. Same difference. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Mm-hmm,” you mumble incoherently, hardly understanding his question. You just want his lips touching yours (and nothing more).
“I’m thinking: you need a good distraction,” his voice is low and coarse, vibrating deliciously against your skin. (You note that it’s not a question but a statement; he knows what you want.)
“Definitely,” you smirk, and pull him down from his neck (finally) for a proper kiss.
Another A/N: Hope you’ve enjoyed this. I definitely need some fluff to cheer myself up. It’s still snowing like there’s no tomorrow. Sigh. If I’m gonna have another snowy school day tomorrow, I will be pissed (or die).