katekintail (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} katekintail) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} hp_may_madness,@ 2013-05-09 00:07:00 |
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FIC: A Hot Pink Lunch (Charlie/Neville)
Title: A Hot Pink Lunch
Pairing: Charlie/Neville
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not my characters or world or anything like that! I make no money at all from this!
Summary: Still settling in at the dragon reserve, Neville stands Charlie up.
Word Count: 668
Author Notes: Written for the Harry Potter May Madness community in 2013. I’m going to try to set all my stories this month in my “The Great Beyond” series (though I probably won't write them in any particular order): http://archiveofourown.org/series/3
Charlie checked the time again. His pocket watch told him Neville should have met him in the Dragon Reserve’s cafeteria five minutes ago. But here Charlie was sitting alone with an empty tray, getting looks from his friends at the other tables. He knew he looked stupid. Merlin knew he felt stupid. Neville had told him there were a number of projects that required supervision but had promised to meet Charlie for lunch. As every Neville-less second ticked away, that seemed more and more like a broken promise. Finally giving up, Charlie stuffed his pocket watch back in his pocket and got up.
It was a ten minute walk through the complex to the reserve’s Herbologist’s workrooms. Down halls, up stairs, around corners, across enclosed bridges, and through doorways. But once he got there, it was clear Neville wasn’t. The door was locked. The lamps unlit. The place abandoned. Charlie was no longer annoyed: he was worried.
It was a twenty minute walk from there to Neville’s quarters in the residential wing. Charlie had lived in this part of the complex when he’d first come to Romania. It was convenient and rather fun to be amongst his friends. It had reminded him a bit of home and bit of the Gryffindor dormitory, except with more privacy than those two places had ever had to offer. After a few years, though, Charlie had felt the need to have his own place.
Charlie knocked on Neville’s door. There was no response. “Nev?” he called out, knocking again, louder. “Neville?” he said, more insistent, the anxiety building to desperation. “Neville!” He could be hurt. He could be dead.
Footsteps. Then, “Charlie?” The man’s voice was muted through the door.
“Nev! You all right?” He could be ill. He could be injured.
A pause. “Yeah. Why?”
“We were supposed to do lunch.”
Another pause. Then Neville swore.
“Nev?”
It seemed impossible for Neville to reply without hesitating. “Sorry. Something came up.”
Charlie knocked on the door again. “Can I come in?” His knuckles stuck the door then his fingertips ran over the wood. He curled his hand, fingernails scratching at the door. “Please?”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why didn’t you go to work today?”
No response, hesitant or otherwise.
“I’m coming in.” He knew the charm to use. Neville had told him when they’d started dating. Charlie hadn’t ever expected to use it, but, despite Neville’s insistence, Charlie was still worried. He opened the door and headed into the room.
Neville stood across the room from him in hot pink boxer shorts and nothing else.
Charlie cocked his head. “What’s this about, then?”
A red flush in his cheeks so bright it competed with his underwear, Neville looked away, refusing to meet Charlie’s gaze. “I, ah, ran out of clothes. And I forgot where the laundry facilities are. I’m doing a set of robes in the bathroom sink. But they’re not done yet.”
Charlie tried to not laugh. He tried as absolutely hard as he possibly could. But the laughter still escaped, around his fingers, his hand cupped to his face. He turned away, shaking with amusement, tears coming to his eyes.
Neville retreated to the bedroom and grabbed the blanket off his bed. He wrapped it around himself.
But Charlie pursued, both amused and relieved. He caught Neville with a kiss. His hand slipped under the blanket. He pulled Neville into an embrace.
Neville buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “M’so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” Charlie said. “If this is what comes of it, I refuse to remind you of where the laundry facilities are. And I don’t know where in the world you got those pants, but they’re coming off right now.” Charlie dropped down to his knees and tugged at the waistband with his teeth.
Neville’s hand lazily kneaded into Charlie’s scalp amidst the flaming red hair.
The tip of Charlie’s tongue touched the end of Neville’s cock. “You promised me lunch.”
Title: A Hot Pink Lunch
Pairing: Charlie/Neville
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not my characters or world or anything like that! I make no money at all from this!
Summary: Still settling in at the dragon reserve, Neville stands Charlie up.
Word Count: 668
Author Notes: Written for the Harry Potter May Madness community in 2013. I’m going to try to set all my stories this month in my “The Great Beyond” series (though I probably won't write them in any particular order): http://archiveofourown.org/series/3
Charlie checked the time again. His pocket watch told him Neville should have met him in the Dragon Reserve’s cafeteria five minutes ago. But here Charlie was sitting alone with an empty tray, getting looks from his friends at the other tables. He knew he looked stupid. Merlin knew he felt stupid. Neville had told him there were a number of projects that required supervision but had promised to meet Charlie for lunch. As every Neville-less second ticked away, that seemed more and more like a broken promise. Finally giving up, Charlie stuffed his pocket watch back in his pocket and got up.
It was a ten minute walk through the complex to the reserve’s Herbologist’s workrooms. Down halls, up stairs, around corners, across enclosed bridges, and through doorways. But once he got there, it was clear Neville wasn’t. The door was locked. The lamps unlit. The place abandoned. Charlie was no longer annoyed: he was worried.
It was a twenty minute walk from there to Neville’s quarters in the residential wing. Charlie had lived in this part of the complex when he’d first come to Romania. It was convenient and rather fun to be amongst his friends. It had reminded him a bit of home and bit of the Gryffindor dormitory, except with more privacy than those two places had ever had to offer. After a few years, though, Charlie had felt the need to have his own place.
Charlie knocked on Neville’s door. There was no response. “Nev?” he called out, knocking again, louder. “Neville?” he said, more insistent, the anxiety building to desperation. “Neville!” He could be hurt. He could be dead.
Footsteps. Then, “Charlie?” The man’s voice was muted through the door.
“Nev! You all right?” He could be ill. He could be injured.
A pause. “Yeah. Why?”
“We were supposed to do lunch.”
Another pause. Then Neville swore.
“Nev?”
It seemed impossible for Neville to reply without hesitating. “Sorry. Something came up.”
Charlie knocked on the door again. “Can I come in?” His knuckles stuck the door then his fingertips ran over the wood. He curled his hand, fingernails scratching at the door. “Please?”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why didn’t you go to work today?”
No response, hesitant or otherwise.
“I’m coming in.” He knew the charm to use. Neville had told him when they’d started dating. Charlie hadn’t ever expected to use it, but, despite Neville’s insistence, Charlie was still worried. He opened the door and headed into the room.
Neville stood across the room from him in hot pink boxer shorts and nothing else.
Charlie cocked his head. “What’s this about, then?”
A red flush in his cheeks so bright it competed with his underwear, Neville looked away, refusing to meet Charlie’s gaze. “I, ah, ran out of clothes. And I forgot where the laundry facilities are. I’m doing a set of robes in the bathroom sink. But they’re not done yet.”
Charlie tried to not laugh. He tried as absolutely hard as he possibly could. But the laughter still escaped, around his fingers, his hand cupped to his face. He turned away, shaking with amusement, tears coming to his eyes.
Neville retreated to the bedroom and grabbed the blanket off his bed. He wrapped it around himself.
But Charlie pursued, both amused and relieved. He caught Neville with a kiss. His hand slipped under the blanket. He pulled Neville into an embrace.
Neville buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “M’so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” Charlie said. “If this is what comes of it, I refuse to remind you of where the laundry facilities are. And I don’t know where in the world you got those pants, but they’re coming off right now.” Charlie dropped down to his knees and tugged at the waistband with his teeth.
Neville’s hand lazily kneaded into Charlie’s scalp amidst the flaming red hair.
The tip of Charlie’s tongue touched the end of Neville’s cock. “You promised me lunch.”