Fic: Serves Two (Ron/Harry, R)

[http://users.livejournal.com/_hannelore/]

Title: Serves Two
Author: _hannelore
Prompt Number: #163b submitted by J♥
Kink Showcased: Service-oriented Submission
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Ron/Harry
Summary: Harry comes over to help Ron through a rough spot, but finds there's a place he can stay.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2980
Author's Notes: Post-Hogwarts (Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny), but before marriage and children. Many thanks to pauraque for being an amazing beta; any additional errors are my own.



There was one frozen meal left. The label was helpfully marked "meatloaf" in Hermione's careful handwriting, along with the date she had left Ron.

Ron had been avoiding eating that last meal nearly a week. Take-out containers littered the couch, crowded the dinner table and some even had made their way into the bedroom. Ron was staring into the open freezer, looking for a hopeful sign, when Harry called.

***

Harry wrinkled his nose and frowned as soon as he walked in the door.

"Well, I know what I'm doing first," he said, picking up a few of the cup noodle containers off the couch.

Ron knew he ought to protest, but shame kept his mouth shut. He followed Harry around the house, mournfully holding the bag while Harry tossed the garbage in. When he came back inside from bringing it all out to the bin, he found Harry rummaging around in the fridge.

"You haven't been shopping at all, have you?"

Ron shook his head.

"Get your coat, then."

***

Ron was mostly silent, only nodding and mumbling "dunno" to Harry's food-related inquiries. Finally, Harry had given up and left him near a large display of bananas. Ron startled a little when Harry put several apples onto the scale next to him. Harry looked at the weight critically, taking one apple off the scale and offering it to Ron.

"I thought I'd make a pie," Harry said. "Do you like apple pie?"

"She just brought it all home," Ron said miserably. "I didn't even have to tell her what I liked, it was just there."

Harry nodded, giving Ron a sympathetic smile.

Ron looked at the apple in his hand. "It's a little bruised," Ron said slowly.

Harry grinned.

"Good eye."

***

Ron sat at the table in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around his mug of tea as he watched Harry prepare dinner.

"So how do you know so much about cooking anyway?” Ron said.

“I never really had any choice, I suppose.” Harry said, pulling a mixing bowl from the cupboard. “It was the Dursleys' way of making me earn my keep. They had me cleaning the house too. I just assumed it was something I had to do.”

Ron pulled a face. “Mum made us keep our own messes behind our own closed doors, but she took care of everything else. I suppose she liked it that way.”

“Or you only thought she did,” Harry said, pointing at him accusingly with the stirring spoon. “Maybe she could have used a hand around the house. Or, you know, some appreciation.”

“I think she appreciated that we didn't burn the place down,” Ron smirked.

Harry laughed and shook his head, tasting the mixture for a moment before adding some more seasoning. Ron wondered why he had never watched Hermione cook before, and if he ever had, it was just to pinch her bum or nick something off the cutting board. But watching Harry was relaxing; it reminded Ron a bit of home when he was younger.

“You really do expect everything to be done for you," Harry said. "I suppose Hermione does all the house cleaning for you too?"

“I wish,” Ron grumbled. “She’s all about ‘division of labour’ and nonsense like that. I mean, we both work at the Ministry so --”

“-- so you think Hermione should work all day and come home to clean up your mess too?”

“I do clean up my own mess!” Ron argued. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

Harry snorted, turning on the faucet to run water into the sink. “I’m just pointing out that perhaps your ways of thinking are old fashioned.”

“You never saw my Dad cleaning the house,” Ron insisted.

Harry just shook his head, tossing a dish towel into Ron’s lap.

“What’s this for?” Ron frowned.

“Drying,” Harry said with a smirk.

***

Ron leaned against the counter, watching Harry washing the dishes in the sink. “See, aren’t your hands getting all wrinkly and -- urgh.” Ron frowned. “That’s just gross. Why don’t you do it with magic? Mum does.”

“I like washing dishes with my hands,” Harry said. “I feel like it’s being done properly.”

"But you're doing everything for me!" Ron said. "I thought you'd just come over and we'd go out to the pub for a drink but here you are --" Ron grasped at what he was trying to say, what he meant. Failing, he gestured at Harry. "-- here you are."

"A clean house probably does your head better than too many drinks," Harry said. He rinsed his hands under the clean water and moved away to check on the soup, peering under the lid and taking a taste.

"It's uncanny watching you like this," Ron said. "I mean, I'd thought it would be funny, you emptying the trash and fixing dinner but you're really good at it." He grinned. "The Dursleys didn't know how good they had it."

Harry dropped the lid a little too hard back onto the pot with a loud clang, startling Ron so badly that he dropped the dish towel.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"No, God, I'm such a prat," Ron said, shaking his head as he stooped to pick the towel back up. "I don't imagine they were very grateful."

"Not so much," Harry said, lifting his head slightly and giving Ron a sad smile.

"I'm grateful," Ron said. "You can't imagine how much I appreciate you for doing this. Thanks."

Ron noticed that Harry's hand tightened a little on the stirring spoon, but his face didn't seem angry; there was something else there Ron couldn't recognize. There was only a glimpse of Harry's smile before he looked away quickly.

***

Ron hadn't asked Harry how long he would be staying, but he was looking forward to another excellent dinner. When he arrived home after work the next day, he noticed the sticks that had been littering the yard from the last wind-blown night had been all cleared away. The gate didn't even seem to squeak like it did when he usually opened it up. He could see Harry through the living room window.

Instead of going to the front door, Ron crept around to the back of the house to sneak a look into the window. Harry was dragging the furniture out of the way so he could hoover under the couch instead of just around it (as Ron would have done). Ron felt a bit foolish spying into his own house, but he didn't want Harry to know he was there. He'd known Harry half his life, but he'd never seem him this way before... domesticated. What he noticed the most was that Harry seemed quite content, really.

Ron ducked down as the vacuum stopped. He crept round to the kitchen window and noticed it didn't have the usual dust streaks that Hermione complained about. He could smell the cleaner; Harry had been here as well. Ron felt an odd twinge of excitement, wondering what else Harry had done.

"You could have brought in the post."

Ron yelped in astonishment at Harry's voice, which only made Harry laugh even harder. He was standing right beside him.

"How did you know --"

"You left your satchel on the doorstep," Harry said, holding it up. "And you're stomping through the azaleas. Hermione won't appreciate that. Make sure you take your shoes off before you come inside."

Ron followed him in, about to speak when Harry reminded him -- "shoes!"

"Maybe I was thinking I came home to the wrong house," Ron said, amused. "This place looks incredible, how did you even do this?"

Now it seemed to be Harry's turn to fumble. Ron could have sworn he was blushing.

"I saw you cleaning under the armchair," Ron said, grinning. "I don't think even Hermione does that."

"I like doing the cleaning properly," Harry said, idly touching the back of the sofa. "I hoped you'd be pleased."

"I'm thrilled," Ron said, wandering around the living room. He pointed to at the vase of yellow blossoms sitting on the small table by the front door. "Flowers! I didn't even know we owned a vase."

"It's just, y'know, a little touch."

Ron was a little dizzy, still uncertain why. Maybe a lot of it had to do with the look on Harry's face. He still couldn't decipher what it was, but there was something about the way Harry looked at him and then looked quickly away and down. Ron felt like he was in this same dance, oddly bashful and yet excited.

"I woke up a little late," Harry said, looking up suddenly, "so I didn't have time to do much... but if there were some things you thought might need to get done. You could make me a list, you know, just some ideas."

Ron was starting to feel that he was understanding the source of Harry's contentment, that Harry wasn't doing the cleaning because was doing a good turn for Ron. This was for Harry too. Ron nodded, pretending to look slightly more nonchalant than he felt.

"I could look around and write down a few things," Ron said. "Might be difficult, seeing as how you've done so well. But I think I could find some more work for you."

Harry looked enormously pleased; but it the fact that he looked so delightfully pleased with himself that made Ron feel really quite fantastic.

***

Ron batted away another memo that nudged against his head. The reminders had been coming all morning. He was late with at least three reports and he'd been staring at the same one on his desk for the past hour. He kept thinking about Harry, hoping that he was doing the right thing. He glanced out at the window, the charmed sun still high in the sky against a sunny blue day. It was nearly lunchtime, maybe if he just snuck out for a little bit...

Once outside of the Ministry, Ron apparated into the kitchen, he could tell by the blurry color of the tiles as everything slowly came into focus.

Harry was standing at the sink, looking flushed and breathless. He must have heard the loud sound because his mouth was open in shock.

“I -- you're back early!”

"Sorry," Ron said "I was trying for the living room, I always apparate a little too much to the right. Say, are you alright?"

“I was just -- um -- I was thinking...” Harry stammered. "You startled me."

"Go on."

Ron realized that Harry seemed to be practically pressing himself against the counter, like he was hiding something. He seemed to be exactly in the same position that Ron had found himself in when Angelina had once walked in on him in the Quidditch locker room. Harry looked just as flustered, too.

“You really seem to like doing the dishes," Ron said slowly, but he was grinning.

"I like doing them for you," Harry said. He swallowed hard, still unmoving. "Oh God, you're horrified, aren't you. I'm sorry."

Ron felt the realisation sink into him and it felt like a prickling warmth in deep in his belly.

"I'm not horrified," Ron said quietly. "I get it. I'm not sure why, I mean -- I never really thought about you that way. But this way, it's different."

"It is, isn't it?" Harry said, his shoulders sagging with obvious relief. "I didn't want you to catch me like this, but --"

"But you do," Ron interrupted. "You were excited to find out I was watching you clean, weren't you?"

"Yes," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't want to sneak around to watch you, though. I want you to know I'm watching and I want you... I want you to see my approval."

"Ron," Harry gasped. He looked like his knees were about to buckle. Ron felt that same weakness, but instead it gave him strength in the sureness of his thoughts.

"But not now," Ron said with a slight smile. "I've got to get back to work. And you've got chores to finish, right?"

***

"Have you done the laundry?"

Harry nodded and opened the drawers for Ron to see. Ron picked up one of his shirts and shook his head with a frown.

"These need to be ironed and hung up," Ron said. "I think the ironing board's in the front cupboard."

"It is," Harry added, hurrying out the bedroom door. "I saw it when I was straightening in there."

"Good," Ron said, reaching for the newspaper. "Do the ironing in the living room, where I can see you."

Harry nodded quickly and went to fetch the ironing board. Ron sat down on the couch, feeling the power of telling Harry what to do vibrating through him. This excited him, watching Harry's obvious desire to do things well. The shirts were perfectly fine on their own, Hermione never bothered to iron unless they were going somewhere fancy.

Harry plugged in the iron. He picked up a dusting rag and starting wiping down the bookshelves.

"You're really efficient," Ron said. I imagine that's how you're so good at getting everything all done, I'm impressed."

Harry looked over his shoulder with a faint smile on his lips, returning the compliment with a tiny nod.

Ron sat down on the couch, opening the newspaper and feigning reading for a bit. He thought perhaps Harry wouldn't want him to be staring constantly, the presence was good enough. Ron set the paper down and watched as Harry finished one shirt and started to put it on a hanger.

"Wait," Ron said. He got up and looked at the shirt, turning the collar between his fingers. He could smell the heat of the iron beside them -- Ron felt a powerful need to touch him, but he knew that would break the moment. Instead Ron nodded and smiled at Harry, pleased.

"Very good," Ron said. "You do very good work, you know. You're very careful."

"Thank you," Harry said. Ron could see the redness in his cheeks and he wondered if Harry was as aroused as he was.

"Well go on," Ron said, amused. "There's several more shirts, and you need to get them done before you start on dinner."

Harry nodded quickly as he went to hang up the shirt in the closet.

***

Ron leaned against the counter, watching Harry at the stove. He was feeling his initial nervousness start to fade away. Every time he complimented Harry, he could see Harry's pleased reaction and it made Ron want to see even more.

Harry looked up at him, seeking approval. Ron hesitated for only the briefest pause; he knew what he wanted.

"You need me to tell you what to do, don't you?"

"I do," Harry said urgently. "I --"

"Don't lose your focus," Ron chuckled. "Wouldn't want you to burn dinner."

***

"That was really delicious," Ron said as he leaned back in his chair, "you outdid yourself again, though I can't imagine how."

Harry beamed and squirmed a little in his seat. "I'm glad you liked it."

"You know what I think I'd like you to do while I'm at work tomorrow?"

"Yes?" Harry started to clear the dishes away, but he was clearly quite attentive.

"I'd like you to cook a lot," Ron said. "I want you to plan several meals and have them all prepared for later."

"I can do that," Harry said, but there was something in his voice that faltered a little and not in the way that seemed to be good.

Ron frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I -- it's nothing." Harry stared at the empty dishes.

"Tell me."

"I should have told you earlier, but I didn't... I didn't want to say anything then." Harry reached into his pocket and handed Ron an envelope. "It arrived while you were at work. She's coming back tonight."

Ron stared at the envelope. Before, he would have wanted nothing more than for Hermione to come home. He still wanted her, but he also wanted this. When he looked up at Harry, Harry looked crestfallen.

"Maybe there's a way we can still --"

"This?" Harry said, gesturing to the table with a bitter laugh. "How?"

"Is it just me?" Ron said. "I mean, would you do what Hermione asked you to do?"

Harry's mouth fell open for a moment and he looked at Ron incredulously.

"I can't believe you're asking me this about Hermione. Your girlfriend."

"But she's your friend too," Ron said. "I know what you want, Harry. It's not sex, is it? It's... serving."

"Yes," Harry said nervously. "But I can't imagine she would want to -- how do you know -- what if she doesn't --"

"I dunno," Ron said with a grin. "I think -- I think she'd like it."

Harry clapped a hand over his mouth and Ron couldn't help laughing aloud.

"What if I watched her tell you what to do?" Ron felt that thought dive straight into his trousers.

Harry made a tiny little sound behind his hand, sinking down into the chair, his eyes wide. He lowered his hand slowly.

"Both of you?"

"Or we could take turns," Ron said, circling around behind Harry's chair, his voice low. "Hermione watching you polish the silver, oh, she's very particular, you'd have to do well at that to please her. Not to mention the shed hasn't ever been touched, that'd be a right pleasant Sunday for you and me, wouldn't it?"

The front door opened.

"Ron?" Hermione's voice.

Ron squeezed Harry's shoulder lightly. His fingertips lingered there, he couldn't help himself. Harry shivered a little.

"What are you waiting for?" Ron said with a grin. "Go make her a cup a tea."

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/_hannelore/]

Thank you so much! I don't think it's horrible at all, I think it's fine to expect that it might lead to something more physical, but I more wanted to explore the kink to show it's not just foreplay (as another commenter mentioned).