Dresden fic: Expectations (Harry/Murphy, PG-13)
Title: Expectations
Fandom: The Dresden Files
Pairing: Harry/Murphy
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Word count: 1,494
Summary: Neither of us had called this a date. It was just, "Hey Murphy, you wanna come over for dinner?" But between the food and the wine and the laughing and the flirting, it felt like a date.
Author's notes: Written for dresdenflashfic's "heat" challenge.
Tonight hasn’t been quite what I expected it to be.
What I did expect when Harry asked me over for dinner… I don’t know. I know I didn’t expect him to be a good cook. He made spaghetti - admittedly pretty hard to screw up, but his sauce was amazing. When I asked him what brand it was, he gave me a slightly bashful grin and said, “Oh, well, it’s not a brand. I made it.”
I stared at him. “You made it?”
He fiddled with his fork. “Yeah. It was my father’s secret recipe. He only ever shared it with me,” he added with understandable pride.
I was still stuck back a step. “You made it from scratch?”
“Yeah. It’s actually cheaper that way. Comes out better, too.”
There was no denying that. “How is it cheaper?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I get most of the ingredients through barter. In fact, I get a lot of things that way - fruits, vegetables, bread, meat, herbs and spices… I give people potions, find lost or hard-to-find items, basically all the small things no one else can do, and in return I get what I need.”
“Sounds like a pretty good deal.”
“It works. And I’m glad you like it.” He said that with one of his full-out, lopsided grins.
I swear the man isn’t that good-looking. Look at a picture of him and he looks… a little odd, and not particularly handsome. But when he smiles at me like that, my heart starts beating in double time and I find myself smiling and laughing like a girl. I sipped my wine to cover it, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from lingering on his. I could tell he knew what he did to me. I think he likes it.
I think I like that he likes it.
I got my second surprise of the night when we were clearing the table. I happened to look out the window as I was putting my plate in the sink, and I stopped in my tracks. “Holy hell.”
“What?”
“It’s completely white out there!” I couldn’t see either of our cars, much less the next building over. Complete white-out. The weather report had given us a 40% chance of light snow. I should have known better.
“Huh.” I heard Harry open the fridge. “Great. Power’s out.”
That struck me as odd, since the lights were still blazing. As much as they ever did, here. I glanced around. Right. Candles.
“Explains why it’s so cold in here,” I said. “No power, no heat.”
“Uh, actually, I don’t really have heat, anyway.”
Typical Harry. I couldn’t help but smile even as I shook my head. “No heat in a snowstorm. Some date, Dresden.”
The word felt weird in my mouth and I immediately regretted saying it. Neither of us had called this a date. It was just, “Hey Murphy, you wanna come over for dinner?” But between the food and the wine and the laughing and the flirting, it felt like a date. To me, at least.
I could feel Harry’s eyes on me. I worried for a second that he’d take what I’d said the wrong way, but then I heard him chuckle quietly. “I can’t control the weather, Murphy. And it’s not really that cold in here.”
“Speak for yourself,” I retorted, slanting a look at him. “I’m freezing.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I’ll build up the fire.” He set down the plate he was holding and headed for the fireplace. The flames seemed to leap higher before he even got there, but it was probably just my imagination.
I rinsed the dishes while he poked at the fire. I’d just slide the last thing into the soapy water when he stood up. “Want me to wash up?” I asked him.
“No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll get it later.”
“Okay.” I reached for a towel to dry my hands, which were already getting chilly from the water. I kept my eyes on Harry. He was still standing by the fireplace, looking a little uncertain. I glanced out the window. “I can’t really go out in this.”
“You’d eat and run?”
He was giving me that smile again, though thankfully only at half-wattage. Still, I felt my lips curve upwards in response. “Maybe not.”
For a few seconds we just looked at each other, him in the living room and me in the kitchen. I felt myself unconsciously holding my breath, waiting, wondering what happened next. Eventually Harry broke silence and the tension, saying, “You want some tea? I’d offer you hot chocolate, but I don’t actually have any right now.”
“Can’t get that through barter?” I teased.
“You’d think you could, but no.” His grin was more relaxed now.
“Tea would be nice.”
“Okay, then.” He waved a hand. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll make us some tea.”
We traded places, him bustling around the kitchen, me wandering the living room. I considered sitting on the couch, but the heat from the fire was so tempting that I ended up dropping to the floor in front of it.
Harry came over a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs. He handed one to me, which I took gratefully, wrapping my hands around it. He sat down beside me, stretching out his long legs in front of him. We sat like that for a while, sipping our tea, listening to the crackle of the fire. Neither of us said much, but it was a comfortable, companionable silence.
A shiver broke me out of the moment. I tried to hide it by drawing up my knees, but that caught Harry’s attention. “Hey, you still cold?”
I nodded ruefully. “I think the temperature’s dropping. It doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t get cold easily. Or maybe I’m just used to it,” he added with a wry half-smile. It slid away as he eyed me. In a deliberately nonchalant tone, he said, “You know, I’ve heard the best way to get warm is to share body heat.”
I turned to look at him incredulously. That was more of a line than I ever would have expected to hear from him. “You’ve heard that?”
“Somewhere.” Somehow his grin managed to be both cheeky and bashful.
I laughed a little and looked away, too surprised to manage much of a reply.
He reached behind me and grabbed the blanket from the couch. (I’m not sure how he reached - his arms must be even longer than I thought.) He wrapped it around his shoulders then opened his arms wide. “C’mere,” he said with a jerk of his head, grinning at me.
Cocky bastard.
I went.
It took a couple of false starts, but I ended up here, settled between his legs, leaning back against his chest, my head in the crook of his neck. His arms are around me, holding me close, keeping the blanket snug around us.
I’m not cold anymore, not in the least. Between him and the fire, I’m comfortably, thoroughly warm. If I was anywhere else, I’d be half asleep, but the more relaxed I get, the more aware of him I am. I can feel his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. One of his hands is covering my own, and somehow our fingers have laced together. His other hand is on my stomach, warm even through my shirt. I’m incredibly conscious of that hand, and of his legs on either side of me, pressing against my hips.
I like it here.
I lift my head and pull away, just enough so that I can see his face. He gives me a soft smile, entirely unlike his cocky grin. I return it, raising one hand to touch his cheek.
Then I kiss him.
At first it’s sweet and almost chaste, the simple pressure of his lips against mine, and that’s enough until I want more. His mouth opens to mine and we’re kissing, my tongue caressing his and tracing the roof of his mouth until he groans, his arms tightening around me. I shift, turning, pressing closer to him, my arm wrapping around his neck, my mouth never leaving his.
One of his hands finds the hem of my shirt and slips underneath. I nearly gasp at the heat of his skin on mine. He’s like a furnace, my own personal radiator, and I can’t get enough. I want him - I want all of him, with an intensity that steals my breath.
I tighten my arm and pull him down, falling backwards until he catches me and lowers me gently to the ground. The motion breaks the kiss. He looms above me, staring down with eyes unfocused with desire. From his slightly incredulous expression, I don’t think he expected this.
My lips curve into a smile, and as I pull him down for another kiss, I think… maybe I did.
Fandom: The Dresden Files
Pairing: Harry/Murphy
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Word count: 1,494
Summary: Neither of us had called this a date. It was just, "Hey Murphy, you wanna come over for dinner?" But between the food and the wine and the laughing and the flirting, it felt like a date.
Author's notes: Written for dresdenflashfic's "heat" challenge.
Tonight hasn’t been quite what I expected it to be.
What I did expect when Harry asked me over for dinner… I don’t know. I know I didn’t expect him to be a good cook. He made spaghetti - admittedly pretty hard to screw up, but his sauce was amazing. When I asked him what brand it was, he gave me a slightly bashful grin and said, “Oh, well, it’s not a brand. I made it.”
I stared at him. “You made it?”
He fiddled with his fork. “Yeah. It was my father’s secret recipe. He only ever shared it with me,” he added with understandable pride.
I was still stuck back a step. “You made it from scratch?”
“Yeah. It’s actually cheaper that way. Comes out better, too.”
There was no denying that. “How is it cheaper?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I get most of the ingredients through barter. In fact, I get a lot of things that way - fruits, vegetables, bread, meat, herbs and spices… I give people potions, find lost or hard-to-find items, basically all the small things no one else can do, and in return I get what I need.”
“Sounds like a pretty good deal.”
“It works. And I’m glad you like it.” He said that with one of his full-out, lopsided grins.
I swear the man isn’t that good-looking. Look at a picture of him and he looks… a little odd, and not particularly handsome. But when he smiles at me like that, my heart starts beating in double time and I find myself smiling and laughing like a girl. I sipped my wine to cover it, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from lingering on his. I could tell he knew what he did to me. I think he likes it.
I think I like that he likes it.
I got my second surprise of the night when we were clearing the table. I happened to look out the window as I was putting my plate in the sink, and I stopped in my tracks. “Holy hell.”
“What?”
“It’s completely white out there!” I couldn’t see either of our cars, much less the next building over. Complete white-out. The weather report had given us a 40% chance of light snow. I should have known better.
“Huh.” I heard Harry open the fridge. “Great. Power’s out.”
That struck me as odd, since the lights were still blazing. As much as they ever did, here. I glanced around. Right. Candles.
“Explains why it’s so cold in here,” I said. “No power, no heat.”
“Uh, actually, I don’t really have heat, anyway.”
Typical Harry. I couldn’t help but smile even as I shook my head. “No heat in a snowstorm. Some date, Dresden.”
The word felt weird in my mouth and I immediately regretted saying it. Neither of us had called this a date. It was just, “Hey Murphy, you wanna come over for dinner?” But between the food and the wine and the laughing and the flirting, it felt like a date. To me, at least.
I could feel Harry’s eyes on me. I worried for a second that he’d take what I’d said the wrong way, but then I heard him chuckle quietly. “I can’t control the weather, Murphy. And it’s not really that cold in here.”
“Speak for yourself,” I retorted, slanting a look at him. “I’m freezing.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I’ll build up the fire.” He set down the plate he was holding and headed for the fireplace. The flames seemed to leap higher before he even got there, but it was probably just my imagination.
I rinsed the dishes while he poked at the fire. I’d just slide the last thing into the soapy water when he stood up. “Want me to wash up?” I asked him.
“No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll get it later.”
“Okay.” I reached for a towel to dry my hands, which were already getting chilly from the water. I kept my eyes on Harry. He was still standing by the fireplace, looking a little uncertain. I glanced out the window. “I can’t really go out in this.”
“You’d eat and run?”
He was giving me that smile again, though thankfully only at half-wattage. Still, I felt my lips curve upwards in response. “Maybe not.”
For a few seconds we just looked at each other, him in the living room and me in the kitchen. I felt myself unconsciously holding my breath, waiting, wondering what happened next. Eventually Harry broke silence and the tension, saying, “You want some tea? I’d offer you hot chocolate, but I don’t actually have any right now.”
“Can’t get that through barter?” I teased.
“You’d think you could, but no.” His grin was more relaxed now.
“Tea would be nice.”
“Okay, then.” He waved a hand. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll make us some tea.”
We traded places, him bustling around the kitchen, me wandering the living room. I considered sitting on the couch, but the heat from the fire was so tempting that I ended up dropping to the floor in front of it.
Harry came over a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs. He handed one to me, which I took gratefully, wrapping my hands around it. He sat down beside me, stretching out his long legs in front of him. We sat like that for a while, sipping our tea, listening to the crackle of the fire. Neither of us said much, but it was a comfortable, companionable silence.
A shiver broke me out of the moment. I tried to hide it by drawing up my knees, but that caught Harry’s attention. “Hey, you still cold?”
I nodded ruefully. “I think the temperature’s dropping. It doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t get cold easily. Or maybe I’m just used to it,” he added with a wry half-smile. It slid away as he eyed me. In a deliberately nonchalant tone, he said, “You know, I’ve heard the best way to get warm is to share body heat.”
I turned to look at him incredulously. That was more of a line than I ever would have expected to hear from him. “You’ve heard that?”
“Somewhere.” Somehow his grin managed to be both cheeky and bashful.
I laughed a little and looked away, too surprised to manage much of a reply.
He reached behind me and grabbed the blanket from the couch. (I’m not sure how he reached - his arms must be even longer than I thought.) He wrapped it around his shoulders then opened his arms wide. “C’mere,” he said with a jerk of his head, grinning at me.
Cocky bastard.
I went.
It took a couple of false starts, but I ended up here, settled between his legs, leaning back against his chest, my head in the crook of his neck. His arms are around me, holding me close, keeping the blanket snug around us.
I’m not cold anymore, not in the least. Between him and the fire, I’m comfortably, thoroughly warm. If I was anywhere else, I’d be half asleep, but the more relaxed I get, the more aware of him I am. I can feel his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. One of his hands is covering my own, and somehow our fingers have laced together. His other hand is on my stomach, warm even through my shirt. I’m incredibly conscious of that hand, and of his legs on either side of me, pressing against my hips.
I like it here.
I lift my head and pull away, just enough so that I can see his face. He gives me a soft smile, entirely unlike his cocky grin. I return it, raising one hand to touch his cheek.
Then I kiss him.
At first it’s sweet and almost chaste, the simple pressure of his lips against mine, and that’s enough until I want more. His mouth opens to mine and we’re kissing, my tongue caressing his and tracing the roof of his mouth until he groans, his arms tightening around me. I shift, turning, pressing closer to him, my arm wrapping around his neck, my mouth never leaving his.
One of his hands finds the hem of my shirt and slips underneath. I nearly gasp at the heat of his skin on mine. He’s like a furnace, my own personal radiator, and I can’t get enough. I want him - I want all of him, with an intensity that steals my breath.
I tighten my arm and pull him down, falling backwards until he catches me and lowers me gently to the ground. The motion breaks the kiss. He looms above me, staring down with eyes unfocused with desire. From his slightly incredulous expression, I don’t think he expected this.
My lips curve into a smile, and as I pull him down for another kiss, I think… maybe I did.