minishaw one-shots

dubai (part 2)

warnings: smut and cheating (7358 words)

-

Harry awoke, feeling the mattress dip beside him, and he turned to see Simon sitting on the side of the bed. Harry realised he was still fully clothed, in the same outfit as the previous night but he was now lying underneath the covers. Simon turned his head to look at him, having heard that Harry was awake, and gave him a gentle smile.

"Morning," Harry mumbled, sitting up straight.

"Afternoon, actually," Simon informed him. All of a sudden, the previous night came back to Harry, flashes of them dancing in the club, taking shots, the stares that lasted way too long, and Simon kissing him once they had returned to the resort, dragging Harry into his room. He remembered they didn't get much further than that, felt a sense of relief, even though they had very much crossed the line, didn't want to think about what could've happened if he hadn't fallen asleep.

"You okay?" Simon asked, carefully observing him.

"Yeah, you?" Harry replied, rubbing his forehead. Simon nodded and got up, walking toward the bathroom.

"Are we not going to talk about yesterday?" Harry blurted out. Simon stopped in his tracks, kept his back turned to Harry, and his posture was tense and stiff.

"Can we please not do this now?" He replied softly. Harry just stared at him for a few seconds, and Simon turned his head to look at Harry over his shoulder like he had done the previous night when they were walking back to the resort, he had smiled at Harry then, but his face was now cold as he watched the younger.

"Sure," Harry replied defeatedly, knew Simon would rather just forget about it.

"I'm sorry," Simon said, and Harry heard the honesty in his voice, he was sincere.

"Breakfast?" Harry asked him, to steer away from the conversation.

"You mean lunch," Simon chuckled.

"Whatever, lunch then," Harry let out. Simon nodded and got into the bathroom. Harry let himself fall back with a huff, lied there for a bit before he got up and went to his own room to get dressed.

-

Harry was standing on the small football field about an hour later, football in his hand. It was already around three in the afternoon at that point. They hadn't exchanged more than a few words while they ate, most of them being spoken by Simon when he suggested they should play some football. Harry felt the awkwardness radiating off of Simon, spoiling the whole holiday mood they had going on not even 24-hours ago. That was before Harry had ordered those shots, and before Simon started looking at him like that. Harry wasn't sure what had caused Simon to get the idea in his head to grab Harry's wrist and kiss him. He knew he had played a part in it, but Simon was the one who took the first step that couldn't be classified as friendly anymore.

"You crossed the line!" Simon yelled out, and Harry's head shot up, stood still as he looked at the older. Simon pointed down at the football under Harry's foot, and indeed, he was outside the field's lines. He moved back and haphazardly kicked the ball, sending it flying over the goal. He ran after it, kicked it back to Simon, who immediately took a shot at the goal, and the sound of it hitting the crossbar rang in Harry's ears. Simon let out a faint cheer, discomfort lingering in it.

They went on like that, taking turns, and at some point, Simon took a shot that was so sick that Harry couldn't help but clap for him. Simon threw him a smile as he ran over to the ball.

"Come on, Harry!" He cheered, as Harry hadn't hit the crossbar once so far, and he didn't think he was going to. He felt weird, wanted to simultaneously talk and not talk about what had occurred in Simon's hotel room. They had gone on for hours without even mentioning the previous night altogether, and Harry knew they couldn't just ignore it, pretend like it hadn't happened. Simon had indicated he didn't want to talk about it right after they had woken up, so Harry would have to patiently wait for the other to start the conversation.