Title: Lounging Around
Author: Tesseract ()
Furniture: massage chair
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Twenty-three-year-old Harry and Draco pass the time with a convenient massage chair during an airport layover.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes:: My first challenge � thanks to my best friend Nin for the beta job.
His legs stiff from the transatlantic plane ride, Harry let the surrounding passengers rush past as he walked slowly up the ramp toward the bright lights of the airport. He hoisted his duffel bag over his shoulder and went to look for his connecting flight on the bank of computer monitors against a nearby wall.
As he searched the screens, he heard slow, deliberate footsteps coming up behind him, and a pale arm snaked around his waist. He grinned as he turned to look into his companion�s petulant silver eyes.
�You didn�t wait for me,� Draco pouted. �I had to find my way out of the plane all by myself.�
�Sorry, love. You were taking too long to collect your suitcase, and I got swept up in the crowd � New Yorkers, you know,� Harry replied, dropping a quick kiss onto the shorter man�s temple. �And see, you made it just fine anyway.�
Draco�s expression remained stormy as he focused on the monitors and studiously avoided meeting his boyfriend�s gaze. �It�s not my fault you�re so damn comfortable in these places. You just had to work for the Ministry. It�s uncivilized, them sending you out among Muggles so often.�
Harry sighed. They had had this conversation several times already, and he knew this latest incarnation was just a result of Draco�s crankiness after the long plane trip. �Well, if somebody had been content to go on holiday in Britain, then we wouldn�t have had to take Muggle transportation. But you insisted on Disney World, and I�ll be damned if I�m going to try to Apparate across the Atlantic Ocean with three weeks� worth of luggage.�
A hint of what would have been whining, had it come from someone less cultured and well-bred than Draco Malfoy, crept into the other man�s voice. �Well, I�m hungry. And tired. How much longer do we have to stay here?�
Harry checked the screens again. �Our flight to Orlando doesn�t leave for another two hours, so I guess we need to find the first-class lounge to wait in.�
He set off toward a wall-mounted map of the airport and Draco, grumbling, followed.
*~*~*
Fifteen minutes and a pair of $7.50 soft pretzels later, the men showed their tickets to a security guard and entered a large, luxurious room painted a deep blue and filled with attractive paintings and comfortable-looking furniture. At least, Harry considered it luxurious � Draco, instead of being grateful they�d found their way there at all, just rolled his eyes. However, he trailed after Harry to a couch in the corner without protest.
�See, isn�t this nice?� Harry asked as they deposited their carry-on luggage onto the floor.
Draco gave a very un-Malfoyish snort. �This is what my money paid for? This is hideous! And I don�t even want to know how many other asses have sat here before mine.�
Harry grinned. �Well, that�s what you get for living the life of the idle rich. You�ve got too much unearned money for your own good, so don�t pretend you can�t afford to pay extra for first class.�
He thought for a moment, then added, �Besides, coach is worse. They don�t even get a lounge.�
Draco shuddered at the thought.
Hoping to distract his bad-tempered boyfriend, Harry looked around the room and saw a hallway opening off one end. He stood up, grabbing Draco�s hand and pulling him off the couch before he had time to complain. �Come on, we�re going exploring.�
The blond sighed the sigh of the deeply put-upon and allowed himself to be dragged across the lounge, ignoring the curious stares of the airline employees and other customers as he muttered, �Gryffindors.�
On arriving in the hallway, the two were faced with several closed doors. The nameplate on one read �Powder Room,� the next was the �Kitchenette� and a third was labeled �Cleaning Supplies.� The fourth, though, was more mystifying: it read �Private Comfort Suite.�
His interest piqued, Harry turned to Draco with a questioning expression. Looking bored, Draco gave an elegant shrug, and his partner, taking the gesture for assent, opened the door.
The room was small, decorated in the same color scheme as the outer lounge. Almost all of the floor space was taken up by two large black leather armchairs. The men walked in and looked at each other, eyebrows raised, before settling into the chairs.
�I wonder why these are hidden away?� Harry asked.
Draco didn�t answer, as he was focused on drumming his fingers against the armrests (a nervous habit Harry had come to loathe in the five years since they�d finished school). Suddenly, a patch of the leather sprang open near his right hand to reveal a panel of buttons labeled �Off,� �Low,� and �High,� and he forgot his annoyance in the face of this new distraction.
�Harry, look at these buttons � what do you think they�re for?�
The dark-haired man looked over at the other chair. �How�d you do that?�
�I don�t know � part of the arm just flew open. Try pressing the edge, here.�
Soon Harry�s chair boasted a matching set of buttons. He looked at Draco. �Do you think we should push them?�
Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked. �That�s what they�re there for, aren�t they?�
Harry summoned all of his Gryffindor courage and hit the button marked �Low,� just as Draco got a mischievous glint in his eye and pressed �High.� A low hum echoed throughout the small room and panic filled the men�s faces as the chairs began to vibrate.
�What the hell?� came Draco�s voice, shaking a little from the motions of the chair beneath him.
Comprehension dawned on Harry�s face. �Draco, it�s okay � I know what these are. They�re massage chairs. Muggles put them in shopping centers and airports and anywhere else people tend to feel stressed � they�re meant to have the same effect as a Relaxing Charm.�
�Oh,� Draco replied. He sounded unconvinced.
They closed their eyes and sat in silence for a few more minutes before Draco�s voice sounded again, still quivering but now shaded with a hint of something else as well.
�Harry?�
�What?�
�I�ve never gotten this kind of result from a Relaxing Charm.�
Harry opened his eyes and looked over to see his boyfriend�s face masked with intense and unmistakable arousal. Silver eyes met green as Harry grinned slyly and hit the �Off� button on his own chair. He stood up and walked the few steps to Draco�s, crawling into his lap and straddling the other man�s hips.
He caught the pale lips with his own in a deep kiss and wound his arms around Draco�s neck, holding him close. The blond sighed with relief and circled Harry�s waist in his own embrace.
*~*~*
Some time later, the men were startled back to reality when their flight was announced over the loudspeaker. Groaning with disappointment, they untangled their intertwined limbs and turned off the massage chair before standing up unsteadily and righting their clothing.
After one last slightly desperate kiss, they left the room and collected their luggage from the main lounge, still disregarding the now vaguely suspicious looks from the other people present. When they had returned to the bustle of the concourse, Draco groused, �I hate being interrupted.�
Harry chortled. �I�m just as frustrated as you, but we wouldn�t be in this situation if you hadn�t set the damn thing to �High.� I was perfectly comfortable and not at all turned on in my chair.�
Draco shot back, �Well, you were the one who wanted to go �exploring� in the first place. Now we�ve got another long flight ahead of us and I�m going to have a raging hard-on the entire time. This is all your fault.�
Not wanting to get into another argument, Harry rolled his eyes and decided to drop the subject. �I will not let his bitchiness ruin our holiday at the Happiest Place on Earth,� he thought.
Then as they hurried toward the gate to board the plane, an idea came to him, and he turned to his boyfriend with a wicked smile.
�Hey, Draco?�
�What?�
�I know a way we can make the last leg of this trip more enjoyable for both of us � if you�re interested, that is.�
The blond raised one eyebrow and gave him a skeptical look. �What�s that?�
�Well, there�s this Muggle tradition called the Mile-High Club ��