Drarry One-Shots 2

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prompt 104. "Is that my shirt?" "You mean our shirt?"

Harry was busy flying around the kitchen, doing ten things at once when Draco finally made his way downstairs that morning.

"How long have you been up?" he asked frowning at the steaming pile of pancakes next to fresh coffee next to eggs next to bacon next to oatmeal next to –

"Like an hour," Harry replied, turning back from the stove (French toast) to smile brightly at his husband. "Good morning, by the way."

Draco smiled back and made his way to Harry before pulling him close by the waist and kissing him soundly. "' Morning."

"Happy birthday," Harry whispered and then kissed Draco again, absentmindedly moving the pan from the heat just in time for Draco to whisk him up and put him to sit on the edge of the counter.

"Thank you," Draco said, his smile widening when Harry locked his legs around his hips. "You didn't have to do all this, you know."

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to. It's not every day you turn thirty, babe."

"Well, love, we'll see how you like it in a few months." They laughed together, kissed some more, and then Draco let Harry get off the counter. They walked to the table and Harry was just about to sit down when Draco pulled him back by the back of his shirt.

"Is that my shirt?"

Harry blinked at him owlishly before turning towards the table. "You mean our shirt?" He took a plate and filled it with toast topped with butter and eggs which he sprinkled with some pepper.

"No, I'm sure I meant my shirt," Draco said with an amused smirk. He sat down opposite of Harry so they could play footsie while they ate even though this endeavour usually ended up in a competition of who could hit the other's shin the hardest. They used to be arch enemies; old habits die hard. Their friends hate them.

"You borrow my hoodies," Harry explained while waving his wand towards the coffee pot to pour them some coffee. "I borrow your shirts."

"Yes, but your shoulders are wider than mine, dear," Draco said. "You'll stretch them out."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will." Draco took a bite of his pancake and tried to look concerned for his shirt to guilt Harry into returning it. He doubted it'd work as it usually didn't, but he had to try for propriety's sake.

"You'll stretch all my shirts and then what will I wear to work? Your hoodies? That one Weasley sweater with your initials that you wore so often it's falling apart at the seams?"

"At least then the nurses wouldn't flirt with you; they'd all know you were mine," Harry shrugged and continued to eat his eggs on toast without a bother.

"The Prophet made an exclusive on us, Harry," Draco sighed. "I'm pretty sure everyone knows I'm yours and you're mine."

"As they should," Harry huffed and then extended his leg to touch Draco's foot just because he could. "And if it bothers you that much, I'll buy you more shirts. How's that sound?"

Draco just stared at him for a moment, head propped on his hand, a bite of jammy pancake in the other hand. He was smiling softly and Harry couldn't help but grin back. Finally, Draco sighed, popped the pancake into his mouth and said, very much resigned, "That sounds just fine."