Inclination

Post-Dinner Pizza, Popcorn Fights, Polluted Pants

Seven languid knocks pull Harry from his couch around midnight, he mutes the television before tossing the remote onto the cushion and stretches his arms high above his head before swinging his door open.

His heart stutters at the sight of you leaning casually against his doorframe with your head tilted flirtatiously, your hair released from the confines of its tight bun. A pizza box stacked with a brown paper bag and a VHS is in one hand and your purse dangles from your other hand, "hey handsome. I figured you were still hungry since you ate about five percent of your dinner."

He gathers everything from your hands before dropping a kiss to your temple and guiding you in, "what's in the bag, pretty?"

You seem comfortable as you meander inside, tossing your bag and your jacket onto an armchair before walking into his kitchen and pulling two forks from his silverware drawer, "two pieces of strawberry cheesecake and a bag of microwaveable popcorn... for the movie."

He plucks the forks from your hand and places everything on top of his stove, flicking the light of the hood on and pinching your hips to spin you towards him, "what movie?"

Your arms circle his neck to pull him close, "it's a new one. It's called Fuck You For Leaving 100 Bucks On Your Table." He laughs and rests his forehead against yours, pulling your hips flush with his and shuffling his feet as he backs you up towards his bathroom.

"Shower?" You nod but before you can ask about borrowing clothes again, he reads your mind, "boxers, my softest t-shirt and a clean towel on the counter." You watch each other for a silent moment, both of you have the thought to ask the other to join but neither of you are courageous enough. You kiss him and mutter a 'thank you' before slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door, both of your bodies staying still in hesitation as you consider showering together again but then you both tip toe away in apprehension.

.

Forrest Gump plays on Harry's television as you sit side by side comfortably, his fingertips drawing circles on your kneecap as you glance at him every so often for a glimpse of his chiseled profile, "hey... popcorn me?"

He clusters another handful before shuffling the kernels in his hand and tilting his head back to pile them into his mouth. He holds the bowl out towards you, but once you reach your hand into it he yanks it away. You frown at him as he smiles innocently, putting the bowl under your nose again and ripping it away the moment you lift your hand, "asshole!"

He offers it to you again and this time you try to react as fast as possible but he's too quick, clutching the bowl in his greedy fingers with his arm outstretched as far away from you as he can, "come and get it."

You grumble and try once more, Harry's face laying straight in a teasing grim countenance until a snicker bursts through at your pathetic, lazy attempts. You groan and sit up from your comfortable position, spanning your arm across his chest as he seems to move it farther and farther away from you. You lean on his shoulder, climbing into his lap and he laughs hard at your half assed effort until you're grabbing his arm and trying to force it closer.

He yells when you tug him forcefully and send popcorn raining down on his couch while you wrestle for the bowl, your legs straddling his hips in his loose and casual gray sweatpants and your borrowed boxers riding far up the expanse of your thighs. Harry exhales a shaky breath when he realizes how close your chest is to his face and when he glances down to where your centers are touching, he sucks in a sharp lungful of air and drops the bowl of popcorn to the couch.

Your breaths are quiet when realization settles over the two of you like a thick haze and before Harry has a second to hesitate, you're digging your fingers into his hair, dropping your mouth to his and pressing your lips together with a wanton hum.