Title: Falling Away (With You)
Author:![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
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Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Teddy
Rating: PG-13
Length/Word Count: One-Shot, 1313 words
Warnings/Content: zombie apocalypse, cross-gen, godfather/godson
Notes: Written fortrain_tracks who won my services as part of fandomaid. She asked for a prequel to Falling Down with the prompt 'Undisclosed Desires', and this might make more sense if you've read that one first, though I believe this stands on its own. Title comes from the Muse song of the same name. Thank you to torino10154 and roozetter for the beta!
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world I did not create. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: The world's gone to pot, but when Harry smiles, none of that seems to matter.
Falling Away (With You)
Harry sits back on his haunches and spins the dial on the Wireless, but his fingers find only static. Teddy watches him, a glimpse of Harry's profile revealing the tightness in his jaw, the crinkling of his eyes; he's so studied and serious and that old familiar ache in Teddy's belly flares up and demands to be noticed. It's been doing that a lot recently. Over meals of tinned meat and stale crackers and stews that only consist of mushrooms they've found growing in the back garden. Harry joked once that he'd survived months on nothing more than that and had vowed never to eat a mushroom again, but he was eating his words now, wasn't he? He smiled at Teddy and ruffled Teddy's hair, and the air filling Teddy's lungs felt so clean and pure that he thought he must be sullying it just by breathing.
That happens a lot around Harry. Sometimes so much that it hurts to look at him.
It's turning into one of those times now, so Teddy forces his gaze away; it lands on the tumbler of whiskey set upon the end table next to Teddy. It's Harry's whiskey—he rarely indulges even though they have more liquor than they could possibly drink with the bizarre state of things—and Teddy doesn't particularly like the taste of it, but he picks up the glass anyway and takes a sip.
It's spicy. It burns his tongue and his lips. It goes down hard. And it does nothing for the ache inside him.
"Hey, that's mine," Harry says, and Teddy's traitorous eyes are drawn to Harry's smile. The world's gone to pot, but when Harry smiles, none of that seems to matter.
"If you want it back, you'll have to take it from me," Teddy says. His stomach flips and he can feel his hair flushing red, and he immediately regrets his words, but Teddy's always been one to talk before his brain can think through things properly.
But Harry laughs and the regret is gone in a flash. He ambles over to the sofa, plops down next to Teddy and proceeds to snatch his drink before Teddy can even think about hanging onto it.
"You don't even like whiskey," Harry says. Teddy shrugs and tries to ignore the way Harry's thigh presses into his own, but it's iron-hot and makes Teddy want to fidget and scoot away even while another part of him wants to see if he can press closer.
"Just wanted to see if I'd changed my mind."
"And?"
Teddy screws up his face, morphing just slightly so it's even tighter than normal. It has the intended effect. Harry slaps Teddy's knee and laughs again.
"I'll try to find some lager on my next run."
And just like that, the world comes crashing down Teddy's ears again. If the Wireless was working, it could almost be a normal night on the weekends Teddy spent at Grimmauld. Having a pint, debating the Cannons chances of actually winning a match that season, grousing over all the extra paperwork that came with Harry's promotion with Teddy grousing right back over what a right pain in the arse Draco Malfoy was to his potions apprentices. But it wasn't a normal weekend with Harry. They'd been holed up in this house for weeks now, the Floo locked up tight, unable to Apparate because where could they go that would be safe? Maybe nowhere was safe, but right here, in this house hidden with ancient magic and Harry's wards wrapped around them like a warm blanket.
"Where did you go?" Harry's voice pulls Teddy from his thoughts and his hand is on Teddy's knee, warm and solid. Teddy feels hot all over.
"You should let me come with you."
"Teddy—no—it's not safe."
"Not safe for you either," Teddy says. His voice grows stronger. There's an echo of that sick feeling in his stomach every time Harry leaves and Teddy's alone with only Harry's wards for company. "It'd be safer with both of us."
Teddy can see the wheels turning in Harry's mind, can see the logic breaking down Harry's defenses. His hand still rests on Teddy's knee, but his grip goes tight.
"If something were to happen to you—"
"I know. You'd be lost without me." It's meant to be a joke, and Teddy tries to smile, but his voice falls flat and Harry looks so very serious that Teddy's breath catches in his throat.
"I would," Harry says. His eyes bore into Teddy's, so intensely green and alive.
Maybe it's the way Harry looks at him or the whiskey that still flavours Teddy's tongue or the way Harry's hand presses into Teddy's knee like he's trying to imprint himself onto Teddy's skin—Teddy doesn't know why he does it, when it's not a new desire, but something that's lived quietly inside him for years, but now, for whatever reason, it's screaming to get out. Teddy leans close, catches the sight of Harry's eyes going wide, and then kisses him.
Harry is still against him, and Teddy knows in an instant that he should back off, mumble an apology, run up to his room and lock himself in for the night. But he can't bear to tear himself away, and in the space of a breath Harry comes alive against him, mouth opening, drawing Teddy inside. Elation fills his chest and he feels like he might cry with the sheer joy of it all. It's nothing like his nighttime fantasies when he takes himself in hand and tries to imagine how Harry might kiss. It's better than any fantasy Teddy could conjure. Harry kisses him so hard that Teddy has no hope of breathing. His hands travel from Teddy's shoulder to his face, and his calloused thumb rakes along the line of Teddy's jaw, tickling his unshaven skin. Beneath the whiskey and tinned meat, Harry has his own unique flavour to which Teddy is instantly addicted, and when Harry pulls back, the loss is so immediate that Teddy can't help the whine that escapes him.
But Harry is panting against Teddy's lips, gusts of hot air that feel like silk against Teddy's skin and Teddy can only just be still and drink him in.
"Teddy..." Harry says his name with a sigh. "You're not thinking straight." Despite his hesitant words, Harry runs his thumb over Teddy's lower lip.
"You want me," Teddy says. The words come unbidden, but Teddy feels the truth of them, sees that truth reflected in Harry's eyes.
Harry rests his forehead against Teddy's. His glasses scrape against Teddy's skin.
"It's not right," Harry whispers. "It's never been right."
Teddy's heart leaps in his throat. It's beating so hard, he's certain the sound of it must fill the room. But Harry's whispered words are all Teddy can hear, over and over in a never ending loop. He closes his eyes. He forces himself to take a deep breath. He tries to find that place inside him that is still. When the nightmares come and he can feel the darkness pressing against Harry's wards like a thousand decayed hands trying to find a way in, Harry holds him and whispers to him and helps him find that stillness inside.
He doesn't know why he's thinking of that now when he's a breath away from getting everything he's ever wanted, but it does the trick. Teddy's heart calms. The fog of desire lifts. He needs Harry to see he's completely clear-headed, and he somehow manages to straighten up and lift Harry's chin so their gazes meet.
"There's nothing more right than this."
His legs shake, but Teddy manages to stand. He walks to the stairs and doesn't look back, but he feels the heat of Harry's gaze on his back and hears the rustling of couch cushions.
And he knows Harry will follow.
-Fin-
Fic Index
Author:
sdkFandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Teddy
Rating: PG-13
Length/Word Count: One-Shot, 1313 words
Warnings/Content: zombie apocalypse, cross-gen, godfather/godson
Notes: Written for
train_tracks who won my services as part of fandomaid. She asked for a prequel to Falling Down with the prompt 'Undisclosed Desires', and this might make more sense if you've read that one first, though I believe this stands on its own. Title comes from the Muse song of the same name. Thank you to torino10154 and roozetter for the beta!Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world I did not create. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: The world's gone to pot, but when Harry smiles, none of that seems to matter.
Falling Away (With You)
Harry sits back on his haunches and spins the dial on the Wireless, but his fingers find only static. Teddy watches him, a glimpse of Harry's profile revealing the tightness in his jaw, the crinkling of his eyes; he's so studied and serious and that old familiar ache in Teddy's belly flares up and demands to be noticed. It's been doing that a lot recently. Over meals of tinned meat and stale crackers and stews that only consist of mushrooms they've found growing in the back garden. Harry joked once that he'd survived months on nothing more than that and had vowed never to eat a mushroom again, but he was eating his words now, wasn't he? He smiled at Teddy and ruffled Teddy's hair, and the air filling Teddy's lungs felt so clean and pure that he thought he must be sullying it just by breathing.
That happens a lot around Harry. Sometimes so much that it hurts to look at him.
It's turning into one of those times now, so Teddy forces his gaze away; it lands on the tumbler of whiskey set upon the end table next to Teddy. It's Harry's whiskey—he rarely indulges even though they have more liquor than they could possibly drink with the bizarre state of things—and Teddy doesn't particularly like the taste of it, but he picks up the glass anyway and takes a sip.
It's spicy. It burns his tongue and his lips. It goes down hard. And it does nothing for the ache inside him.
"Hey, that's mine," Harry says, and Teddy's traitorous eyes are drawn to Harry's smile. The world's gone to pot, but when Harry smiles, none of that seems to matter.
"If you want it back, you'll have to take it from me," Teddy says. His stomach flips and he can feel his hair flushing red, and he immediately regrets his words, but Teddy's always been one to talk before his brain can think through things properly.
But Harry laughs and the regret is gone in a flash. He ambles over to the sofa, plops down next to Teddy and proceeds to snatch his drink before Teddy can even think about hanging onto it.
"You don't even like whiskey," Harry says. Teddy shrugs and tries to ignore the way Harry's thigh presses into his own, but it's iron-hot and makes Teddy want to fidget and scoot away even while another part of him wants to see if he can press closer.
"Just wanted to see if I'd changed my mind."
"And?"
Teddy screws up his face, morphing just slightly so it's even tighter than normal. It has the intended effect. Harry slaps Teddy's knee and laughs again.
"I'll try to find some lager on my next run."
And just like that, the world comes crashing down Teddy's ears again. If the Wireless was working, it could almost be a normal night on the weekends Teddy spent at Grimmauld. Having a pint, debating the Cannons chances of actually winning a match that season, grousing over all the extra paperwork that came with Harry's promotion with Teddy grousing right back over what a right pain in the arse Draco Malfoy was to his potions apprentices. But it wasn't a normal weekend with Harry. They'd been holed up in this house for weeks now, the Floo locked up tight, unable to Apparate because where could they go that would be safe? Maybe nowhere was safe, but right here, in this house hidden with ancient magic and Harry's wards wrapped around them like a warm blanket.
"Where did you go?" Harry's voice pulls Teddy from his thoughts and his hand is on Teddy's knee, warm and solid. Teddy feels hot all over.
"You should let me come with you."
"Teddy—no—it's not safe."
"Not safe for you either," Teddy says. His voice grows stronger. There's an echo of that sick feeling in his stomach every time Harry leaves and Teddy's alone with only Harry's wards for company. "It'd be safer with both of us."
Teddy can see the wheels turning in Harry's mind, can see the logic breaking down Harry's defenses. His hand still rests on Teddy's knee, but his grip goes tight.
"If something were to happen to you—"
"I know. You'd be lost without me." It's meant to be a joke, and Teddy tries to smile, but his voice falls flat and Harry looks so very serious that Teddy's breath catches in his throat.
"I would," Harry says. His eyes bore into Teddy's, so intensely green and alive.
Maybe it's the way Harry looks at him or the whiskey that still flavours Teddy's tongue or the way Harry's hand presses into Teddy's knee like he's trying to imprint himself onto Teddy's skin—Teddy doesn't know why he does it, when it's not a new desire, but something that's lived quietly inside him for years, but now, for whatever reason, it's screaming to get out. Teddy leans close, catches the sight of Harry's eyes going wide, and then kisses him.
Harry is still against him, and Teddy knows in an instant that he should back off, mumble an apology, run up to his room and lock himself in for the night. But he can't bear to tear himself away, and in the space of a breath Harry comes alive against him, mouth opening, drawing Teddy inside. Elation fills his chest and he feels like he might cry with the sheer joy of it all. It's nothing like his nighttime fantasies when he takes himself in hand and tries to imagine how Harry might kiss. It's better than any fantasy Teddy could conjure. Harry kisses him so hard that Teddy has no hope of breathing. His hands travel from Teddy's shoulder to his face, and his calloused thumb rakes along the line of Teddy's jaw, tickling his unshaven skin. Beneath the whiskey and tinned meat, Harry has his own unique flavour to which Teddy is instantly addicted, and when Harry pulls back, the loss is so immediate that Teddy can't help the whine that escapes him.
But Harry is panting against Teddy's lips, gusts of hot air that feel like silk against Teddy's skin and Teddy can only just be still and drink him in.
"Teddy..." Harry says his name with a sigh. "You're not thinking straight." Despite his hesitant words, Harry runs his thumb over Teddy's lower lip.
"You want me," Teddy says. The words come unbidden, but Teddy feels the truth of them, sees that truth reflected in Harry's eyes.
Harry rests his forehead against Teddy's. His glasses scrape against Teddy's skin.
"It's not right," Harry whispers. "It's never been right."
Teddy's heart leaps in his throat. It's beating so hard, he's certain the sound of it must fill the room. But Harry's whispered words are all Teddy can hear, over and over in a never ending loop. He closes his eyes. He forces himself to take a deep breath. He tries to find that place inside him that is still. When the nightmares come and he can feel the darkness pressing against Harry's wards like a thousand decayed hands trying to find a way in, Harry holds him and whispers to him and helps him find that stillness inside.
He doesn't know why he's thinking of that now when he's a breath away from getting everything he's ever wanted, but it does the trick. Teddy's heart calms. The fog of desire lifts. He needs Harry to see he's completely clear-headed, and he somehow manages to straighten up and lift Harry's chin so their gazes meet.
"There's nothing more right than this."
His legs shake, but Teddy manages to stand. He walks to the stairs and doesn't look back, but he feels the heat of Harry's gaze on his back and hears the rustling of couch cushions.
And he knows Harry will follow.
-Fin-
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