condensed containment (sting of mint); harry/draco
Title: Condensed Containment (Sting of Mint)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Summary: Closed tightly together, the taste of spice.
a/n: haven't written fics in a bit. haven't written hp fics in over a decade. been so out of the lj game i forgot how to even insert a space between lines... also on AO3
for the slythindor100 25 days of Draco and Harry xmas challenge. Day 1: Prompt
"You do know that this isn't the entrance, right?"
Harry can feel Draco rolling his eyes as he closes the door behind them both, effectively cutting the swirling cold from entering the booth.
"I think I would know which booth is the correct one since I am the one that takes it the most. Honestly, it's as if you have never been in one at all."
Harry shuffles slightly further into the booth to escape the painful jab of the phone in his side. As cramped and uncomfortable as the booths are when it's just the one person, it reads as inhumanely cramped with another person. Both he and Draco aren't even remarkable wide and he is a few breaths away from telling Draco that he seems to be taking more space than his lithe frame would imply. That would only land him with the couch for a bed and a cold shoulder for company.
While wiggling in a way that makes Harry think of inappropriate activities for a glass enclosure like the one that they are in, Draco picks up the receiver and waits for the witch's voice to greet them. When nothing comes, Draco hangs up and picks it up a second time. And a third time as well to make sure.
"It must be malfunctioning or some other bother," Draco writes off his mistake as he stabs his pointy elbow into Harry's stomach hanging up the phone again.
"Of course, because they wouldn't have put a notice or anything of the sort," Harry quips back at him with a pinch. The pinch makes Draco begin to fidget, already too close to begin with and now making the space seem infinitely smaller.
Harry's arms are suddenly holding Draco's arms to his side, ceasing his moving. "Don't move. Look."
Draco turns his head to see in which direction Harry is looking when he sees the dazed look that can only be achieved by simple pleasures. Draco follows his eyes and sees that it has begun to snow quite heavily around them.
Harry knows that while Draco enjoys the cold of the holiday season, snow isn't as amusing as Harry is making it out to be. "We should head home now," Draco offers as he relaxes a bit in Harry's hold, gently leaning against Harry even though the height difference puts him at odds, "make a fire and have some of those biscuits you brought yesterday."
A brief murmur of agreement is the only reply he gets. Neither of them makes any move to leave the booth just yet. Their quiet glass bubble is warming more and more with their every breath and the body heat radiating from their closeness. The edges and crooks of the glass panes begin to fog, but neither of them pay the soon to be stifling heat any mind. As long as they stay in the booth, they can ignore everything outside of it. That is, with the exception of the snow.
Harry's reverie is shook to reality when Draco shrugs off his arms and turns in place, coming to look down at him with the most minuscule of pleased smiles. He presses a dry kiss to Harry's lips, but lingers so that Harry feels every word and breath that leaves Draco's mouth.
"Will you be nice and let me have all of the spiced biscuits?"
A huff of a laugh makes its way out of Harry and it sounds particularly loud in their small space. He looks up at Draco as he feels his gloved hands trail their way up his arms and settle on his shoulders. Draco's nose presses into his cheek briefly before he kisses him again.
"Should you really be kissing me when the witch could come on at any moment and send us off-"
"Are you avoiding my question, Potter?" Draco smiles softly as he feels between them for the coat pocket holding his wand before he hurries the cold along and fogs the glass panes the rest of the way, hiding them from passersby while at the same time not adding any heat inside the booth. "If you really can't part with them all, I suppose I may be persuaded to spare a bit for you to sample. Perhaps have you lick away the taste from my mouth?"
The nice pleasant almost endearingly romantic moment that Harry has realized was occurring between them swerves instantaneously at Draco's words. The weakly subdued smirk on Draco's shoulders does not help either. Before he can come up with a comeback (too busy imagining tasting sweet spices wherever he kisses or licks along Draco's body) Draco is leaning down and really kissing him. The sort of kiss that might have fogged up the windows if Draco had not done so already.
Tasting the peppermint stick Draco had finished nibbling on moments before they had entered the phone booth, Harry extends his neck to better meet the lips offering the warm spice of Draco's tongue. He has no idea how long they stay there, time blurring when it feels like he is tasting, breathing, feeling Draco all around him in the tiny space. When Harry presses forward seeking to deepen the kiss, Draco pulls back. He looks a sight with his pinkening lips to match his cooled reddened nose and cheeks. Allowing himself to be held in place and pecked a few more times, Draco turns his head with a smile.
"I suppose you've earned yourself a nibble off a biscuit then. Let's head home, it is entirely implausible for you to convince me here."
Let it be known that Harry does not like being told of the impossible, or the apparently implausible. He pulls out his own wand and casts a quick Disillusionment Charm over them after locking the booth door.
Smiling as he pockets his wand again, he pulls Draco in by his hips. "Give me a few minutes and I'll have convinced you to feed me the whole of the tin."