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“Honestly, pretty sure a sink just went past the window.” Ron peered out into the pouring rain, keeping the net curtain pulled back in his hand. “And a few cats. Dogs. Merlin! Did you see that flash?!”
There was silence from behind him and Ron inwardly sighed. He was beyond bored and cabin fever was driving him more than slightly batty, because it had been raining forever.
When he was bored, Ron tended to exaggerate things. He knew it was something he should have grown out of at the grand age of thirty. Like feeling adult, it was something he kept waiting to happen but never seemed to.
With a huff he turned away from the window and squinted in the dim light of the sitting room. Harry had some candles on, even though it was only two in the afternoon, but they weren't doing much to improve anyone's sight. Ron dropped down on the sofa with a louder huff and waited to see if Harry would take his bait.
Harry continued to ignore him and turned a page in his book. Ron edged closer, and closer, until their thighs were touching and he was officially in Harry's personal space.
“Whatcher readin'?” Ron asked playfully.
Still, Harry remained silent.
“It's very rude to ignore people, you know,” Ron muttered sulkily.
He waited a few moments longer before tearing the book out of his boyfriend's fingers and chucking it across the room, where it hit the wall and fell to the floor with its pages creased.
“Hey!” He said brightly. “Now that I've got your attention...”
“No, Ron, you stole my attention.”
“You didn't protect it very hard, you should work on that.”
Harry rolled his eyes but Ron saw his smile.
Battle won, he threw himself down onto his back, put his head in Harry's lap and flung his feet over the arm of the sofa.
“You know, if you wanted to pretend to be a cat, you could have just asked and I could have both read my book and stroked your hair.”
“Book bad, Ron goooood. Hair stroking doubly good. Fuck the book. Pay attention to me instead.”
“I hate you when you're like this. Go for a walk in the rain or something. You've got too much energy.”
“I don't want to walk in the rain, I want to lay here with you stroking my hair. Which you're not yet doing, by the way.”
He reached up, grabbed Harry's wrist and put his hand on his head. Harry immediately sank his fingers in and began to massage.
“That's the ticket, Harry. Mm.”
“You're practically purring, you weirdo.”
Ron ignored him and closed his eyes. With them shut, the rain outside seemed louder and a huge crack of thunder sounded. He could smell freshness through the window he'd insisted on opening.
“Why do you like storms so much?” Harry mused.
“I dunno... Guess I used to get the best view in the house, being at the top. I'd open the window and smell the rain and watch the lightning, all by myself. Made me feel brave. Alive.”
“When I was in my cupboard and it thundered, it felt like the entire house was going to come down on top of me and bury me... like a fucking tomb.”
“Way to bring the moment down, Harry.”
“Well... I just prefer to be indoors, all curled up and pretending its not happening, and you're half hanging out the bloody window in excitement trying to catch thunderbolts.”
“I'm not making you hang out the window though.”
Harry hummed in response. He put his other hand on Ron's chest and left it there.
The rain poured on, the lightning flashed, the thunder rumbled. Ron laid there, his head in Harry's lap, smelling him, feeling him, loving him.
He jumped slightly when Harry kissed his forehead – he hadn't realised he'd been falling asleep.
“You take my book away then you fall asleep. Unacceptable, Weasley.”
“Shut up, Harry.” Ron grinned to himself.
“Well, if you're going to...”
Ron grunted with surprise as Harry slipped out from under him.
“Budge up.”
Ron did as he was told, rolling onto his side and leaving plenty of room for Harry in front of him. He watched as Harry tossed his glasses onto the floor and then settled down so that they were chest to chest. They shared a kiss which started off tenderly and slowly became more animated. Ron had his arms around Harry; Harry had Ron's face in his hands.
“There's one thing to be said for the thunder,” Harry murmured.
“Whassat?” Ron licked his lips clean.
“It makes you a randy little sod. Every time.”
“It's the adrenalin. Or, I dunno... I'm just randy. Either way.”
He kissed Harry again and smoothed one foot against a socked counterpart. He gently worked one hand between them and squeezed hard with his fingers, dragging a moan deep from Harry's throat.
“See, this is much better than some rubbish old book. You should always choose me over books.”
“I'll try to remember that.”
“You do that.”
-fin-