☘︎ our era ☘︎ (DRARRY)

.6

"Where are we going." Harry broke the silence.

His glasses were off to the side, being as he had just woken up. Even his jumper looked wrinkled. At this and the younge man's appearance, Draco scoffed to hide how much he redundantly wanted to kiss that boy ignorantly senseless.

"France. Paris. I don't fucking know. Away, to a foreign land"

"So you're first fucking response is literally France?"
And then the brunette stopped himself,  putting a hand up to his nose.
"Whatever. You're driving anyway. Did you bring alcohol?"

"Now why would I-"

"I know you, and I know you're probably the kind of guy to drink over expense wine at-" he spared a look at the clock. Fucks sake- it was nine in the evening.
"Nine in the evening."
Then the raven looked back and fourth the window and Draco before adding: "while driving."

And it's not like he was wrong.

So the blonde pointed to his duffel bag, hearing the boy rummage through it.

"You like to draw too?"

"No-" wait. was it okay to tell Harry that those were for him? No. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe that was weird.
"Yes." Draco settled on instead, not giving in to the questioning look Harry was giving him.

After awhile the weird silence passed, and the brunette found himself staring. And the more he did, the more he found himself wanting to keep staring. Draco had a really nice face. And the slight, content smile he was wearing right now... he looked quite youthful. Something like freedom birthed in his eyes, those sinful hands adjusting every so often on the steering wheel.

Maybe that shouldn't have sparked fondness in Harry. Maybe it really should have sparked nothing at all.