Chapter Text
Harry curled into the plush warmth of his bed, shivering down to his core from the cold that lingered in his bedroom. Like a bad memory, he shrunk away from it as though it were reaching out, threatening to curl its icy claws into him.
His phone vibrated, and lit up. He debated leaving it be, but when it did the same once more, he grabbed it. With trembling fingers, the screen unlocked to display the group chat, where everyone else was having a similar issue.
PonPon: Brrr, I’m about to go into hibernation! :( This isn’t too fun
Aura: you think you’re having problems? my fucking heater broke and now I have to get up and get the other one from the living room
Ponpon: :( Kero Kero…..
A shiver ran through Harry’s chest, making him wiggle around in the blanket for some more warmth, before he took the worst-shot selfie in the world, and then curled up some more.
Harry~☆: [Sent an Image]
Harry~☆: I have all of you beat.
Vanilla: Webster-San, are you alright? :[ You look all blue!
Aura: look at him hes fucking pink wym blue
Just: Harry burrito…
The mixed responses make him giggle, and at the least provide some emotional warmth. He pulls the top of the blanket down to peek out at his room again, and the cool darkness provides safety, though he would prefer if it provided a sense of company.
Harry~☆: I’m having trouble staying warm :(
Harry~☆: I bet you could help me, justice
Just: I could! I have a few spare heaters, one of them is really big, I’ll try and bring it to you before tomorrow.
Aura: why does harry get a good heater what the fuck i am dying over here justice this is homophobia
Vanilla: Er, is it?
Aura : it’s a joke, viola.
He can’t help but twist his mouth at Ae-Ra, but giggles all the same. Justice could be so dense sometimes, but at the least, he was still kind. It was admirable, even if most would find it annoying.
Harry~☆: You don’t have to bring a heater, just yourself
Just: Are you sure? I’d like to bring you some hot cocoa packets too, they should help warm you up nicely! I’d recommend it.
Oh my god.
Aura: oh my fucking god
Aura: i think im gonna be sick
Vanilla: Oh dear! Do you need me to come over, Bin-San?
Vanilla: Too late, I’m on my way!
Aura: oh my god do not come over
Vanilla is Offline.
Aura: jokes on you im not going to open the door
Just: I believe you gave her a spare key some time ago.
Aura: FUCK
Aura is Offline.
Harry drops the phone onto the blanket, and covers his face, though there’s no one else in the dark room with him, to laugh softly to himself. What idiots his friends could be, but they were his idiots at the least, and the amusement they provided was nothing short of charming at worst. He wiggles around again, giving some warmth, before scoffing.
He flips back the comforter, and instantly regrets it when the cold of the room hits him like a punch in the gut. Grabbing onto his comforter, he drapes it over himself as he sleepily clobbers from his room.
From the kitchen of the apartment, he can already hear someone getting to work, and, turning the corner, finds Zea, his roommate, doing what he assumes is… Cooking.
Though, at the moment, it looks like she’s holding a burning pan halfway out the window in order to avoid setting off the fire alarm.
“Zea? Hey, uh, what the fuck?”
“Can it, Cotton Floss.” She grumbles, without even turning around. Sighing as she chucks the gross looking blackened mush from the pan into the garbage, she tosses the pan into the sink and turns on the faucet, turning away from the massive steam cloud that ensues. Standing like that, she sort of looked like a witch. “I tried making breakfast but I forgot to take it off — the neighbor needed help unlocking her phone again and somehow roped me into going to her grandson’s ballet recital. It’s your chore to answer the door, where the fuck were you?”
“I was getting my beauty sleep.” Harry scoffs, flipping his half-done ponytail over his shoulder.
“Well it’s not working.” Zea responds flatly, shuffling through the fridge. “Maybe invest in plastic surgery.”
Harry felt the urge to hit her, but didn’t, on account of knowing how quickly she could break his hand.
“Anyways, are you going out today?”
“Why, wanna come?”
“No, but I have a doctor’s appointment, so I was going to try and shove off some shopping onto you, but it won’t work if you stay inside all day.”
“I was gonna head over to downtown to walk around for a bit, actually. Why, you need something?”
“ We need groceries, but if it’s downtown you’re going to then I’ll be fine. Just get me a book or something weird looking.”
“Like Penis weird or ‘Why would the Victorians have this’ weird. Or both?”
Zea twists her mouth, and for a moment he thinks he’s upset her, but she shakes her head.
“Like… Weird old lady on the end of the street trying to keep you in her house for tea and you think she’s a serial killer-weird.”
“Excellent. I’ll do my best, Captain.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes before closing the fridge, and grabbing her keys.
“If you get dressed in the next five minutes, I’ll drive you.”
“It’ll take me at least an hour! ”
“You can skip your daily cuticle care, Harry. It’s cold out, you’ll wear gloves anyways.”
“ You’ll wear gloves anyways!” Harry mimics, though narrowly avoids her throwing a spoon at him, scurrying back into the cold of his room.
“I’ll throw a bigger one. You’ve got 10!”
)()()()()()()()()()(
Ugh.
Zea hadn’t gotten into the car before him, opting to wait until he was finished ready before going out, so when they got in, the car was still freezing . His teeth chattered around, and he was certain he was still blue in the face, even with her blasting the heat in his face to make him stop crying.
They pulled into Downtown, where Zea clicked her disapproval at an improper use of turn signals, and Harry checked back on the groupchat.
Aura is Online
Aura: VIOLA IS FORCIBLY KINASSIGING ME BABY MODE HELP ME
Marinette: Oh?
Aura: SHE BROUGHT ME SOUP AND SHES TRYING TO TUCK ME IN SOMEONE GET HER OUT OF MY HOUSE
KingBard: lmfaoooo can i come over too I need picture
Aura: STAY OUT OF MY HOUSE
Marinette: Didn’t you just ask for help?
Aura: DO NOT FILM MY EMBARRASSMENT
Marinette: You’ll be alright, Ae-ra, goodness.
Harry laughs to himself, shaking his head as the car comes to a stop by the sidewalk, and Zea turns her head to look at him. He comically gasps, throwing himself to the side.
“You’re going to ABANDON ME on the SIDE OF THE ROAD? What am I, a stray kitten you don’t want?”
“Yes. Get out of my car, stray.”
“I am a purebred at best.” Harry scoffs, though for what it’s worth, he does get out of the car.
“I’ll be finished with my own errands in a few hours. Do you want me to come back here to pick you up, or are you getting yourself a ride home?”
“I’ll let you know when I know.”
“Yeah, thanks asshole. If you tell me to pick you up immediately and I’m not down the street I’m not coming. Try to know ahead of time.”
He stands straight so she can’t see him roll his eyes through the window, but waves all the same as he walks off, crossing the street without a care. In the back of his mind, he can hear Viola nagging him to look both ways, but really, would he listen to anything she said?
It’s not a very eventful day, to be truthful. He stops by the cafe, flirts with the barista, stops at a boutique, flirts with the clerk, passes by a guy on the sidewalk, flirts with him. It was exhausting being so good at socializing, but someone had to do it. He pauses in a window to check and make sure he still looks alright, and once he’s certain, he pulls back to realize it’s an antique store.
Right. He had to get something weird for Zea, lest she engage his face with a hardcover copy of Sappho’s complete collection.
With a stab to his pride, he pushes open the door and steps inside. The faint jingle of bells announces his presence, and the aroma of oak wood fills the air.
It’s an odd sort of quiet, made odder by the fact that aside from him, he sees no one else in the shop. Though, to be fair, it’s crowded beyond belief, and even as he gingerly steps through the aisles, the shelves are barely wider than him shoulder to shoulder.
There’s a haunting feeling chasing him as he carefully picks up crystals and figures, thumbing through old books and Knick-knacks from ages of old. Perhaps some of these things were haunted. Could he flirt his way out of possession?
Harry’s just about to leave when he hears a familiar voice from the back of the store, and one he doesn’t recognize.
“It’s lovely, really. How old did you say it was?”
“From 1865, I believe! Civil War, I believe?”
“ American? How quaint! I haven’t got one yet.”
“If you like it all that much, I can ring you up for it now.”
“Oh, I’d like to look at some more, if that’s alright.”
“Let me see if we have anything in the back, then.”
Anxiously, or rather curiously, Harry pushes aside a rather freaky looking stuffed monkey to see the one person — or rather, one of a handful of people — he’d expect to see in a store like this.
Justice stands at a counter of weapons, most older than he is, looking the standard way he always does; without a single thought behind his eyes, but curious and twinkling all the same. He holds an antique sword — and again, Harry is reminded of where they are — and stares at it with analyzing intent.
Harry’s heart begins to slam against his rib cage, and for a moment he considers high-tailing it out of there. He wasn’t dressed for an encounter with Justice, nor was he prepared to engage with him head on — he had just used all his favorite pickup lines for God’s sake, and he hated using the same ones twice in one day!
Get it together! You’re Harry Webster, you can do whatever you want!
Harry scoffs at himself, before straightening. He smoothes out his jacket and hair and back and pinches his cheeks for a bit of flushed color. Glancing around, he flinches when he realizes how hard that goddamn fucking monkey is staring at him, but glances slightly to the left and grabs an item at random, composing himself before idly walking out from the aisle.
He sighs, placing it down on the counter and putting his cheek in his hand, looking at the sword, then Justice.
“Oh, Justice, Justice, Justice - How did I know you’d have been here, doing such a thing?”
Though it’s an innocuous question, and it’s only slightly playful in tone, Justice jumps a bit, and his face darkens a colorful pink. He carefully puts the sword down, and turns to face Harry with a curious smile.
“Harry! Hello, I didn’t expect to see you here. Are you browsing for something as well?”
Well, what else would he be doing in here? Harry tilts his head and looks back at the item he picked up, finally noticing it was a dumb little clown statuette. For a moment, every instinct of his told him to chuck it, but instead, he lightly traces its little hat. He hums.
“A little, yeah. I thought the store looked curious from the outside, but I seemed to have found something very curious I’d like to take home with me instead.”
He tilts his head to look back at Justice with a playful smile, but Justice, none the wiser, just gives an earnest grin.
“That’s excellent, Harry! I’m glad you’re able to find the beauty in stores like this!”
Harry internally groans, but manages to keep the smile up as Justice continues.
“I think today it’s rather common to forget the beauty in old things, maybe it’s because of how I grew up, I’m not sure. It’s lovely, to hold something that carries memory with it, like when you pass a tree in the forest, and you see initials carved into it. Maybe the pair is long gone, or separate, but they shared enough memories by the tree to let the world know who they were.”
His eyes glisten a bit, and he gently touches the sword as he muses on. Harry rather wished Justice would caress his face in the same manner, but he bites his tongue.
“What a way with words, Justice.” Harry smiles. “You could chat your way around a dictionary, I’m sure.”
That was so stupid.
“You think? Sometimes I’m told I’m too wordy, actually, but I try to be as eloquent as possible.” Justice beams brightly, scratching the back of his head.
How the fuck did that work.
“So, you’re here to peruse and purchase some memories?”
“Sort of! I got a bonus at work and.. Well, Grace and Charity insisted I spoil myself instead of them, so I thought… Well, what better than something I’ll enjoy? And… Well, we did just have a conversation on how beautiful old things are.”
Harry didn’t know what he was expecting from the guy who worked at Medieval Times.
“A bonus?… Why not spend it on something interesting, like a dinner for two?”
Justice looked to the side for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows.
“… I don’t really have anyone to take to dinner for two… The girls are too young for me to let them go alone, I’d still want to look after them.”
“You know… We could go out for dinner together.”
Justice was quiet for a moment, and Harry was almost positive he had finally managed to knock something in his head, before he just laughed lightly, and rubbed the back of his head.
“That would sure be fun, Harry! I’d love to go out with you sometime.”
“We could have lunch for two…?”
“Really? Great! Let me just finish here, and we can work it out.”
Harry wanted to slam his face on the display case, but kept his composure and examined the dumb little clown with its dumb little smile that examined him right back. He felt like it was mocking him. Maybe it was. Why was this so hard, little clown? Maybe whatever god was watching had been asking him the same thing.
There’s a noise, and Harry looks up to see a decent pile of swords. Immediately, he straightens, and grabs the dumb clown to protect it in his hands as the store owner drops them all in front of him. Though some of them smell weird, and Harry isn't invested enough to examine them, Justice’s curiosity reaches an all-time high. Harry, ever the generous one, tries to look mildly interested in the pile of metal.
“Sorry, m’boy! We had more than I thought! Didn’t know which to bring, so I brought ya all of ‘Em!” He takes off his hat and scratches his forehead, before putting it back on. “Actually… Didn’t remember having most of these.”
With experienced hands, Justice cautiously thumbs through the blades murmuring what sounds like utter nonsense, but as Harry tunes his ears to listen, he realizes Justice was actually naming metal types.
What the fuck. Not to say it wasn’t immensely attractive, but Harry couldn't for the life of him place why. He glances down at the clown figure, who stares back. At this point, the little guy was emotional support.
“Oh? Hello! Sorry lad, I barely noticed ya. What can I getcha for?”
It took Harry a hot second to tear his gaze from Justice, to look at the shopkeep. Why had he come in the first place? Something something, Zea….. ZEA.
“Oh! Uh, let’s see, do you have anything you’d consider odd? ”
“I have an odd wart on my lower back, but I’m guessing you don’t want something like that.”
The shopkeeper burst out laughing, beside himself with tears, while Justice kept looking over the swords, and Harry just wanted to curl on the floor and groan. He forces a smile and polite laugh, before shaking his head.
“But if you want something to buy, maybe I can tempt you to a few Knick-knacks. Let’s see here…”
He wanders off, leaving Harry and Justice alone again, which really just meant Harry was by himself until Justice found a sword he liked. He leans on the other’s arm, sighing, which is enough to momentarily break Justice’s concentration.
“Hm? Oh, did you need something, Harry?”
“No,” Yes, “But tell me about these. What are your top choices?”
“Well…” Justice sucks in a breath, like he’s going to tell Harry awful news. “It’s between these two. I like the look of them a lot, but I’m not sure which would be best to display.”
“What’s the difference?”
Harry almost instantly regrets asking, because it causes Justice to launch into an infodump that goes by so fast, he’s halfway through it when Harry puts a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to quiet down.
“In simpler terms, dear. I’m an entertainer, but not in the way you are.”
“Right!” Justice perks up anyways, putting a hand to his chin as he thinks of said simpler terms. After a few moments, he hits the flat of his fist on an open palm. “So, you know about Colonial France?”
“Explain it to me like I’m a second grader.” Harry practically begged, exasperated at this point.
“Um…. Alright. Uh, Sword A is really strong, from old old france… And, uh, Sword B is from Japan, like, World War Two, Japan. They’re both made from steel, um… They have different weights and styles, my problem is more in aesthetics, I suppose.”
“And the aesthetic choices are?”
“Old France, and Old Japan.”
Harry nods carefully, though he still doesn’t get it. If it mattered to Justice, He’d fake it till he made it, or till Justice started talking about something he decently understood, like his other interests. Preferably one in men.
“Why don’t you hold it in your hand to see how it feels?”
Justice gives a worried glance to the two swords for choice, but when Harry pointlessly gestures for him to grab one, he picks it up with the same care one might expect when handling a newborn, and it’s enough to make Harry blink. Justice was the oldest of… Five? Six? There were always copious amounts of children at his place, Harry didn’t know how he was supposed to keep track.
Unfortunately for Justice, Harry wasn’t too interested in having kids, but maybe with persuasion he could change his mind.
He almost misses the way Justice’s entire form takes shape when handling the sword. Less like an instrument, more like an extension of himself. Harry steps out of the way as Justice turns it, weaving between his form and the antiques themselves to get a clear view.
Even without flirting, he would be lying to say Justice wasn’t incredible looking. He radiated a strength that made you feel at ease and feel protected. He didn’t even seem aware of it, which was the best part. It was a natural charm that came from him, a sort of good that came deep from the heart.
And really, it was beautiful. Especially on such a face.
He switches between the two swords, and it gives Harry a fantastic idea.
“Hey, grab the other one again?”
“Hm? Oh, sure?”
Justice scoops it up carefully, and with an adjustment from Harry, holds it out in the air. Harry, ever the opportunist, presses himself to Justice’s chest, peering with an eye at the weapon to look like he was surveying the look. In actuality, he suddenly felt drowned in Sandalwood and Jasmine. Enough to where he barely registered when the shopkeep came back, and when Justice pushed him away carefully, face lit aflame with embarrassment.
“I like that one.” He muttered in a daze, taking a hot second to look at the shopkeep and a hotter one to realize that, oh god , he was talking to him. He clears his throat and straightens up. “Uh, yes?”
“Here, this might be pretty odd — or at the least, pretty interesting. A seahorse skeleton!”
It drags the attention of both Harry and Justice, who lean in closer to check it. Indeed, that’s what it is - posed on a pin of some kind in some weird glass dome. Perfect for a shelf, protected, weird, and very Zea. Excellent, great, incredible, even.
“You want this with the clown?”
For a moment, Harry thinks he’s meant him , but then glances over to see the clown figure staring at him, with its stupid little face and even dumber hat. He’s tempted to reject the offer, but at this point, the poor clown’s seen enough of his failed flirting to be able to come home with him.
“Sure, why not?” He agrees, utterly defeated. He’d put it somewhere, maybe even move it around the apartment to terrorize Zea. Now that might be a treat. “Go ahead and put them together.”
“And you?”
“I-I’ll take this one, thank you sir.” Justice coughs out, his face still cooling off as he gains his composure. Though he tries to engross himself with the sword, Harry does notice it’s the one he randomly chose. The french one, he thinks, before it’s carefully stored in a sling that Justice tosses over a shoulder.
Carefully, Harry takes the plastic bag with his own purchases, and after a few moments of contemplating the frankly strange situation, he turns to Justice, wagging a finger.
“You owe me a lunch date.”
“I do?”
“Yes! You promised not that long ago.”
Justice frowns, closing his eyes as though he’s trying to remember, but Harry just laughs and shakes his head. Man.
“It’s fine, let’s just pick a place to go, hm? Thank you, sir.” With a polite nod of his head, Harry turns around and makes quick work exiting the shop, though pauses with his hand on the door as he catches the fading fragments of a conversation. Soon enough, though, Justice appears by him, and gives an encouraging smile.
“Before I open this door, I do want to know where you might have been thinking. I don’t want to consider meal choices in the cold.”
“Hm… Richard’s?
The Richard’s in particular was a family-owned cafe that most people from their circles ate at, a fun little joint that wasn’t fine dining in any sort, but came pretty damn close when you were a college student. Harry thought it was fine enough, and if it meant spending time with Justice, it couldn’t be worse than staying cooped up in an antique shop.
“Alright, then. Richard’s it is.” He nods, and shoves open the door. Though, after just complaining about the cold, you’d have thought he would remember that. Apparently, he didn’t, as he immediately turned around to go back inside and instead ran face first into Justice’s chest. He would have joked about it too, if the other didn’t immediately grab him by the shoulders and spin him around to continue out.
Pushy, pushy, literally. Harry quickly regains his composure with a quick step, slipping to be elbow-in-elbow with Justice as they cross a busy street. He still didn’t look both ways, but Justice was courteous enough to stop him, look for him, and continue looking for him as they crossed. What a gentleman.
It was the kind of thing couples did, he found himself thinking, as Justice noted random things around them and about the day. The sky, the people, something he thought was lovely, the way a random planter looked. His opinion on an advertisement, all while Harry clung to him, both for warmth and something else. If he thought about it too hard, it made his chest hurt, so instead he swallowed his pride and kept on walking, nodding and agreeing at appropriate points.
Though the air was bitter, hurting his nose, hurting his cheeks, making him want to curl up and stop moving for some time, he hoped that they were further from Richard’s than he initially thought. He could stay like this forever, he was hoping.
He was certain .