Tried & True

Title: Tried and True
Author: Irana
Rating: Adult
Pairings: Harry/Ron
Word Count: 3312
Summary: Ron really wants Harry to notice him, to notice that Ron's always noticed him, but Harry doesn't seem to get it.
Disclaimer: JKR I am not. Play with her toys, I do. I'll give them back, but they may be a bit worn out by then. What you don't recognize is mine.
Author's Notes: Written for [info]legomymalfoy for the 2006 [info]hpvalensmut Fic Exchange. She wanted: light bondage, voyeurism, wanking (either mutual or while alone), happy/hopeful endings, one character pursuing another with drawn-out UST, light breathplay OK, crossdressing is OK as long as it's not silly or meant to humiliate, adult/post-HBP preferred, please, and as close to canon as you can manage, would prefer not to receive PWP smut. Harry/Ron isn't what I normally write, so I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to the Fabulous [info]obsessed1 for the beta and handholding while I wrestled with these boys and RL to get this fic finished.

***

Ron was beginning to get desperate. He'd tried everything he could think of in the last six months – which really, when it came to subtlety, wasn't much – and still Harry hadn't noticed. Well he had, just not in the way Ron wanted him to. He'd thought it funny Ron was trying to change himself to pull some bloke, and hadn't really paid him any mind. None of Hermione's 'brilliant' ideas had worked, and Ron thought he was going to go spare if he watched Harry waltz into their flat with some other bloke he planned to fuck one more time.

Flopped out on the sofa he and Harry had picked out – after Harry had finally found all the Horcuxes and destroyed Voldemort at nineteen – when they'd moved in together five years ago, Ron had a beer in his hand when Harry walked through the door, thankfully alone.

"Lo mate," Ron greeted before he caught sight of Harry's face. He sat up straight and set the bottle on the end table. "What's wrong?"

Harry – in the middle of taking off his coat – gave Ron a small smile. "Nothing's wrong, Ron. I'm just tired."

Ron didn't believe that for a second, but he let it go. "There's beer in the box if you want one. Or twelve," he offered instead of pressing, knowing Harry wouldn't say a bloody word about what was bothering him until he was good and ready.

Harry grinned, stepped out of his shoes, hauled his jumper off, the button down shirt under it riding up to display the smooth creamy skin Ron ached to touch, and then headed for the kitchen.

Ron watched his arse through the doorway leading to the kitchen and turned back to the telly with a sigh. It had taken him a while (and Hermione's "Oh my god you're in love with Harry!) for him to figure out what that squeezing pain in his chest every time Harry came home with another bloke had been about. The pain had been a constant presence the two times Harry had managed to stay with the same bloke for months instead of weeks. It wasn't like Harry was a slag or anything; it had really been only eight or nine men, much less that what some blokes went through in five years. He'd been with one for almost a year, and another for half a year, and both times Ron had been miserable, cranky and downright awful to be around.

Harry'd gone out a couple times this year, but he had yet to bring anyone home, and Ron was more grateful for that than he probably should have been. Hell, he knew he was happier about that than he had any right to be as Harry wasn't his. It didn't change how he felt at all though and he wasn't afraid to admit to himself it was because he hoped Harry would catch on to the fact Ron wanted him soon.

Harry walked back into the sitting room with a beer in each hand; the top three buttons of his shirt were undone with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and Ron smothered a moan. All that skin, and he couldn't touch it, couldn't put his mouth on it the way he wanted to. He adjusted himself as discreetly as possible as he shifted over to give Harry room to sit down, accepting the proffered bottle with a quiet, "Thanks mate."

"Reckon I need to get pissed off my head," Harry said suddenly into the silence that fell as they both stared at the telly.

Ron had no idea what they were watching anymore, thoughts consumed with the heat of Harry's body so close to his. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sodding Valentine's Day. Everyone wants to know what I'm doing, if I have plans." Harry's voice was bitter, as though he knew they were really just taking bets on who he'd end up with that night.

Swallowing past uncomfortable visions of Harry spending that night anywhere else, in someone else's bed but his own, Ron made himself say, "Well it's not really any of their business is it? What you decide to do I mean. Not like you can't do whatever you want to after all."

Harry took a swallow of his beer and then said, '"What about you? What are you doing Valentines Day? Any luck with that bloke you've been trying to pull?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah loads. So much I'll be here watching telly drinking myself stupid while he'll probably be out shagging some other bloke stupid."

"It's his loss then isn't it? Really Ron, anyone you have to change yourself for can't really be worth it. You were meant to be a redhead Ron, not some brunette," Harry finished referring to the time Ron had died his hair black.

Ron flushed. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Just about every bloke Harry ever pulled had dark brown or jet-black hair, so he'd thought… well it had turned out to be monumentally stupid, hadn't it?

"Yeah," he said, unable to say anything else.

"Or the time you bought all those clothes. Honestly Ron, what were you thinking?" Harry asked, swallowing the last of his beer. "You're queer, not a bloody ponce. You look fine the way you are," he added as he stood. "Want another?" he asked, nodding at Ron's empty bottle.

Ron just nodded, unable to think of a reply to Harry's observation that didn't involve snogging him stupid for saying that about the way he looked.

When Harry came back with the entire case of beer and saw Ron sitting deep in thought, he reached out and squeezed Ron's knee lightly before saying, "It'll work out Ron; you just haven't met the right person yet is all."

Ron looked at Harry as he lifted his hand and shrugged. "Yeah. 'S not all that important anyway right?" Especially since the person I want, the bloke I'm in love with, is sitting right next to me and hasn't a bloody clue.

"You've got plenty of time for all that," Harry said lightly, opening two bottles and handing one to Ron. "We both do."

The conversation ended there, and they'd finished the beer and stumbled to bed, Ron following Harry down the hall slowly, eyes fixed on Harry's arse the entire time, unaware he'd been licking his lips hungrily.

~*~*~

The week before Valentine's Harry managed to talk Ron into going clubbing with him. The last thing Ron wanted to do was watch Harry make time with other blokes, chat up or be chatted up. But he went anyway. Half an hour after they got there, a redheaded man asked Harry to dance, and he did.

Ron watched; sipping the Muggle whiskey carefully, knowing full well he'd be pissed out his gourd if he drank it too quickly. Then he realised that Harry and the other man weren't dancing so much as fucking standing up through their clothes, and he paid for his drink and left. He should never have gone, but he'd never been able to deny Harry anything he wanted. Not since the end of sixth year when they set off to kill Voldemort.

He Apparated into the flat with an annoyed pop, already stripping out of the skin tight clothing he wore, more annoyed with himself than he could remember being in a long time. What the hell was I thinking? he wondered as he stepped into the shower and slid the glass door shut, not having bothered to close the bathroom door. Wasn't like he needed to worry about being seen; Harry was out and likely very busy and he damn sure as hell didn't plan on being awake when Harry arrived with his latest conquest.

Fuck. He was an idiot. He'd thought that maybe if Harry saw him dressed in club clothes, saw him in that atmosphere that maybe he'd notice then. He'd noticed all right… noticed some other bloke.

He groaned as images from the evening flashed across his mind's eye; Harry in leather trousers so tight he couldn't have been wearing pants, Harry with the other blokes arms around him, his arse pressed to the other guy's cock. He wondered if the man behind Harry had been hard, gasped as the image changed to him behind Harry, his cock hard and pressed up against Harry's tight little arse.

His cock hardened and his hand slipped around it before Ron even realised what was happening. It wouldn't be the first time he wanked to images of Harry, and he let himself go with it as it was clear that was all he would have. He kept it slow at first, almost gentle, as he remembered sitting close to Harry on the sofa. His mind conjured images of Harry around the flat; shirtless, wet from the shower with a towel around his waist and one around his neck, sweaty after a run, relaxed in front of the telly.

He moaned as his fist closer tighter around himself, moving faster, harder, twisting on the upstroke as he brought himself off. It didn't take long, and before he knew it he was coming against the shower door, leaning weakly against the hand that held him up with the water pouring over his back, teeth in his bottom lips to keep from crying out Harry's name. He jerked upright at an odd noise, and slid the door open, listening. The sound didn't come again, so he decided he was hearing things and finished his shower, stepping out and heading to the kitchen for a beer.

He stopped short when he saw Harry sitting on the couch. "Harry, you're home," he said stupidly.

"Yeah. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" Harry asked, taking a pull on the beer he held loosely in one hand.

Ron flushed. "Er, well, clubbing's not really my thing you know? And you looked busy… didn't want to mess anything up or anything," he said. He remembered suddenly he wasn't dressed and his flush deepened. "I'll be right back," he added and beat a hasty retreat to his room.

He felt a right prat by the time he got back into the sitting room. It wasn't like Harry'd never seen him undressed before, but he'd just got done wanking to Harry, and well… it was a good thing he'd bitten his lip and not called out Harry's name. What if Harry had come in to use the loo or something and Ron had called out his name?

As soon as he'd made it to the sofa, Harry spoke. "So why did you bother going then?"

"Because you wanted to go," Ron answered immediately.

"You only went because I wanted to go?" Harry asked surprised.

Flushing, Ron replied. "'S what best mates do, yeah? You wanted to go, and you didn't fancy going alone, so I went with you. Didn't reckon you'd be alone long and you weren't really." And I couldn't stay and watch.

"Best mates. Right," Harry said, giving Ron an odd look, one that made Ron distinctly uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't name.

Ron forced himself to relax against the cushions. "So what happened? Did he have crooked teeth or manticore breath or something?" he asked, not really wanting to know, but feeling it was expected.

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I just didn't like the way he kissed me like he had a right to, and you weren't there, so I came home. I was feeling sort of tired anyway."

Ron ignored the fission of possessive jealousy that arouse at the casual way Harry mentioned the other bloke kissing him, and struggled to find something to say.

"Yeah, it is getting on in the evening isn't it? Reckon we ought to just go to bed." He flushed when he heard what he said, but closed his mouth before he could clarify what he meant. Thankfully, Harry didn't seem to notice his faux pas.

Harry stretched, the mesh of his shirt pulling tightly across his nipples as he moved, watching Ron from the corner of his eye. "I'm for bed. Night Ron," he said as he stood. He was smiling slightly as he walked out the room and down the hall.

Ron bit his lip to smother a moan as Harry stretched; fervently wishing he was Harry's shirt and envying the material for being able to slide across Harry's skin. He just managed to choke out a good night as Harry left, and settled back onto the sofa cushions with a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

~*~*~*

Ron woke the morning of Valentine's Day wishing the day were already over with. He glanced over at the Muggle alarm clock and saw that Harry had likely already left for work. He wasn't due to work today – his boss and the owner of Willoughby's Broom Repair had closed the shop so he and his wife could have a mini-holiday – so Ron flopped back down on his bed, hand automatically curving around his morning wood, even as he thought of Harry… again.

His orgasm hit him hard and fast and as he lay there panting at the end of it he wondered what the hell he was doing. All right, so Harry was his best mate, but that made it perfect really. They were best friends – even after knowing each other for years – and they were well acquainted with each other quirks. They already lived together, and subtle hadn't worked at all damn it, so maybe it was time he acted like the Gryffindor he was and took the bull by the horns so to speak. And if Harry said no… well, then he'd know for certain and things might be weird for a bit, but they'd get past it like they did fourth year.

By the time he'd showered and dressed and had his breakfast, Ron had a plan. He left the flat, Apparated to Honeyduke's and had a two pound box of their finest delivered to Harry at his job with no note. It had both their favorite chocolates from the Finest line in it, so he knew Harry would know it was from him.

Then he went the Quidditch supply store and had them send the new broom cleaning kit Harry kept saying he wanted but hadn't gotten around to getting yet with a note that simply said "Happy Valentine's Day." He was pretty sure he was the only person Harry'd mentioned the kit to, but just in case he headed off to the off license and sent Harry a bottle of that Muggle brandy he was so fond of with a note that said, "Leave work early and come celebrate with me?"

It was difficult to wait until he was certain everything had arrived, but finally he popped off to the Ministry, identified himself and headed down to the Office of Magi-Muggle Co-operation and straight to Harry's office where he closed, locked and warded the door and began talking before he could lose his nerve.

"Coloring my hair to fit those of the blokes you fancy didn't work, subtle didn't work, being always there for you didn't work, being supportive when the stupid gits you cared for left and pointing out they weren't worth it didn't work, even getting trussed up like a tart and heading out to the clubs with you didn't work."

He'd been crossing the room to Harry's desk the entire time he was talking and by the time he was done he was standing in front of Harry who was leaning back in his chair, watching Ron with surprise and something else in his eyes. Ron desperately hoped it wasn't disgust as he choked out, "Maybe this will," and kissed Harry for all he was worth.

When he pulled away they were both breathing hard and he was afraid to look at Harry's face. Ron's head snapped up when Harry gave a light laugh and said, "Took you long enough."

"What?" Ron gasped, shocked.

"God Ron, I thought I was thick," Harry said before he pulled Ron down for another breathtaking kiss – mapping his mouth, sucking his tongue, nibbling on his lower lip.

Ron thought dimly that he really must be because he hadn't a clue what was happening, but he wasn't complaining because Harry was kissing him.
"I saw you," Harry whispered when he broke the kiss, his hands sliding up and down Ron's back from where Ron straddled him on the chair as Ron wondered how he'd ended up in Harry's lap. "In the shower, after the club. I saw you. I watched you wank, watched you curl your hands around yourself and stroke. I heard you weeks ago when you thought I'd already left for work as you pulled yourself off with your door half open and called out my name."

Harry leaned up and took the lobe of Ron's ear between his teeth and sucked while Ron sat there stunned and so bloody hard he was surprised he hadn't burst open his trousers. "David told me you followed him to the place he bought his clothes and picked up one of everything he bought. We broke up because he told me how you looked at him when he came to the flat and how you looked at me when I wasn't watching."

Harry's fingers had been undoing the buttons of Ron's shirt and he spoke and he pushed it off Ron's shoulders, trapping his hands. He lapped at one dusky nipple and then sucked, teeth grazing lightly as he pulled away and added, "He told me he couldn't be with a man who was obviously in love with his best friend."

Ron gasped, finally regaining the power of speech. "Harry… Harry that was months ago!" he spluttered.

Harry looked up at Ron and grinned. "I know. Only you never did anything and I thought he was wrong until I heard you say my name as you came that morning." Harry slid his hands down to Ron's trousers and tugged them open, pushed down his pants and pulled Ron's cock out, fingers curling around it and stroking in the exact rhythm Ron liked. "Why do you think I picked a redheaded bloke to dance with, Ron?" he asked, fingers tightening as he tugged and pulled and twisted his hand over Ron's cock.

Ron could barely remember his name much less think or speak and all he could do was gasp and groan and writhe as Harry tossed him off, cry out as he came all over Harry's hand, and moan as Harry brought his hand up to lick Ron's come off.

"You… you knew!" Ron accused.

"I waited," Harry replied. "I waited because it had to be you, it had to come from you so I'd know it was real," he said softly, tucking Ron in and rebuttoning his shirt. He pushed Ron gently from his lap and stood, grabbing his wand and shrinking the packages Ron had sent, tucking them into his robe pockets. He cleaned off the come that had landed on his clothes and looked at Ron, eyes dark with promise.

"I love you too, you great prat. Let's go home. I have a fancy to be fucked blind over the back of the sofa," Harry whispered in Ron's ear as he swept to the door, dismantling all of Ron's wards with a wave of his hand. "Coming?" he asked teasingly before he pulled it open and disappeared through it.

I just did," Ron thought, a happy smile blooming on his face. "But I'll be doing it again as soon as I get you spread open across the sofa." The goofy smile was still on his face as he left the Ministry behind Harry and Apparated back to the flat.