AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Sorry it's short!

Harry had faced a lot of things in his life, and he'd faced his worst nightmares at least a hundred times over the course of his schooling. He couldn't, realistically, say that waking up to an empty bed was his greatest fear… But it was pretty damn close. Somehow, the idea of waking up to nothing but the remnants of last night was worse than the idea of not waking up at all.

When he opened his eyes, though, he breathed a sigh of relief. Draco was still asleep beneath the blankets, keeping mostly to his side of the bed but curling ever so slightly into Harry's shoulder. It was adorable. Harry couldn't resist—his fingers reached out without his direction, smoothing against the blond's temple. He traced that pale jaw and let his thumb hover over those gorgeous, still swollen lips.

Draco's eyes snapped open, instantly alert, but he didn't move away or flinch so Harry didn't either. Those silver rings were bright and completely awake, leaving Harry to only guess at what he normally woke up to, but Draco stayed where he was beneath Harry's hand. Alert, but calm.

"Hey." Draco blinked, but Harry was far too focused on those beautiful lips. He wanted to kiss them. Merlin, he wanted to kiss Draco until the blond was a mess under his hands and he wanted to keep him in that bed for days. But he knew better, so he just blinked back.

"How are you feeling?" Again, Draco just looked at him. "Draco?" Finally, he shifted.

"Don't talk to me like that." The anger in his voice churned Harry's stomach churn, and he was honestly a little scared of the man in his bed for a split second. He'd never considered Draco particularly unpredictable, and the fact that this had come out of nowhere sparked his anxiety like nothing else.

"Like… what?" he finally managed, wincing at how unsteady his voice sounded.

"Like you care about me."

Oh.

Harry tried not to feel slighted but that sentence hit him like a punch to the stomach. He'd worked so hard to earn the blond's trust the night before and he'd just assumed it would last, but clearly he'd been wrong.

"What if I do?" Silver eyes settled on him like two sword points resting against his jugular. It was a threat, and Harry was scared to breathe let alone move, but there was no way in hell he was going to back down now.

"You don't."

"That isn't for you to decide." His voice wasn't any steadier than before, but there was a little more force behind the words. Draco's face had gone stiff and rigid, comparable to a statue carved from white marble if the title of the piece was: poorly hidden rage. Years of therapy had taught him many things—all of which were likely to piss the blond off.

The silence was suffocating. He could feel Draco's anger, but he also knew that he was right. They were both stubborn to a fault, but he'd backed the blond into a corner and they both knew it. It was a stalemate.

"Do you want some breakfast?"