Slice (Percy/Harry, PG)
Title: Slice
Pairing: Percy/Harry
Rating: PG
Word Count: 635
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.
Summary: Harry's advances lead to an unfortunate incident involving a kitchen knife, and the possibility of a very fortunate incident a little later.
Notes: This was supposed to be comment porn for celandineb, but it turned into something more resembling comment romance. Ah, well. Also, Percy's bloody hand is somehow very sexy to me. I don't understand my own brain sometimes.




Someone was staring at him. Percy could tell. He felt eyes boring into his back as he sliced the root vegetables for the evening's soup. Perfect cuts, square and even. His mum had always given this job since he was old enough to hold a knife without cutting himself, and he was good at it.

He leaned over the pot, his glasses fogging, and distracted himself with the aroma of the garlic and mushroom broth.

He would ignore the eyes. He didn't even care whose eyes they were. He would do his job, then he would go up to his old room and find an old book and read until his mum called them all for dinner.

Yes. That was what he'd do.

Except that he still had an enormous pile of peeled carrots and rutabagas and onions to get through, and he could still feel those eyes watching him. Staring.

Percy shivered as he sliced his knife through yet another turnip.

And when a hand slid onto the small of his back and a body pressed against his, the knife kept going, right through his fingertip.

"What the bloody hell—!" he swore, dropping the knife and hissing in a breath. He grabbed the nearest dishtowel, wrapped his finger in it, and whirled around.

"Harry!" Percy couldn't say any more between the throbbing pain in his index finger and the shock of it being Harry who had touched him like that.

Harry's face had gone a bit white. "I'm—sorry, I don't know what—I just, I was watching you—"

"I know. I felt it. Why were you watching me?" Percy held the towel tighter around his finger and watched bright red seep into the white fibres--it was better than looking at Harry, anyway.

"Um," said Harry then, and he took a tentative step closer.

Percy set his jaw and stared past the reddening cloth at his shoes and at Harry's.

"Because I like you." Harry's voice was little more than a whisper.

"What?" Percy choked.

"I—"

"I heard you." Percy lifted his head to look Harry in the eye. "You can't like me," he said through clenched teeth, "You're my sister's boyfriend."

Harry shook his head and stepped still closer. "Not anymore," he replied. He put out a hand and Percy closed his eyes when the hand landed on his hip.

He sucked in a breath. His cheeks were staining red and he couldn't stand to look at the boy. "Harry, don't do th—"

"I'm not!" Harry insisted. He gripped Percy's hip harder. "I'm not," he repeated, "I'm not doing anything. I like you. Have for a long time. I—"

Percy cut Harry off with a wave of his bloody-towel-clad hand. "I'm not having this discussion in my mother's kitchen," he insisted.

Harry stepped back, blinking up at Percy.

"So does that mean you might like to have it…somewhere else?" Hope flickered across his face, and Percy licked his lips, casting a backwards glance at the pile of vegetables behind him.

"My room," he managed through his dry mouth, "Ten minutes."

Harry grinned and nodded and began to back out of the kitchen. Percy shook his head.

"I—that doesn't mean—"

"I know what it means, Perce," Harry said, and he crept back into the room and pressed himself to Percy once again. "And don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

Percy blushed again and turned around in the embrace, shaking Harry off. He pulled out his wand to heal his wound, then went at the pile of vegetables with renewed fervour.

What did it matter if a few of the cuts weren't exactly even? Percy had more important things to worry about.