Clothing Calamities

Shirt

AN: I was going to name this either: "Clothing Calamities" or "Clothing Catastrophes". My blanky-chan decided "Calamities" was the better one of the two, so if you've got any problems with, blanky-chan is the one you should be complaining to ! Can I also just say that this site does not have enough space for proper summaries ? I LOVE this site with all my heart, but I cursed at the summary box, because honestly, 255 characters, really? Phu !

ORIGINAL SUMMARY: Draco never expected taking a relationship to the next level could bring so much trouble – because honestly, who expects wearing each other's clothes to be a hindrance? Even with that knowledge in the back of his head, Draco can't find it in himself to object to the redhead's wishes when Ron uses that wonderfully gruff voice of his – he is after all, just another fool for love.

WARNING: mentions and indications of sex, discribing of naughty bits and naughty words... but other than that, pretty T I think...

This is part one of three ^-^

There is no time to go change and Draco Malfoy cannot find his shirt. Even though he has found many perks to sleeping with Ronald Weasley, he has to say that the boy's apparent addiction with simply ripping the clothes off Draco's body as a means of getting them off, is proving to be hazardous for his immaculate sense of fashion.

Also, he might note that there is nothing funny about having to either sneak around the Gryffindor dorm before dawn in search of his clothes, or after everyone has already left for breakfast.

He is about to throw a fit when the Weasley comes up behind him to hug his waist, pulling him into that ridiculously broad chest of his. The scent of Ronald and sex clouds Draco's head and for a moment he can forget that he is supposed to be pissed off and if he kind of leans back into the embrace, it is not his fault.

"You can borrow one of mine," the redhead offers, voice particularly soft, cooing in Draco's ear so that hot air brushes past and makes him shudder, "I promise I'll find your shirt after class."

"You better freckles, or you're not getting any for a week," the threat lacks any actual bite, but then Draco is suddenly reminded that his shirt is gone and it's too late to return to the Slytherin dorm before classes, and well, Weasley is just plain ignorant if he thinks he has any chance of getting Draco to wear his shirt, "I can't wear your shirt Weasley, you know that very well!"

"Why not?" Ron blinks sheepishly, burying his nose into the crook of Draco's neck lovingly, "It's part of the uniform, just like yours."

"Freckles, it's fucking sexy that you're broad like this," he turns, but only so he can touch Ron's chest as a manner of elaboration—indicating the wide span of it, refusing to admit that he really just wants to nuzzle into it and hold the taller boy close, "But it also means that I could fit your clothes twice."

"Don't really matter," he murmurs now, in that sleep-sick voice that makes Draco's skin crawl. There is no denying what they have when Ron talks to him like that, because it makes the fact that they've come to the point in their relationship where they don't just fuck but actually spend the night, painfully clear. A big hand comes up to cup his pale cheek and he meets Ron's hazy blue eyes, which he will not, ever, describe as beautiful—even if they truly are, "You know how much I like it when you wear my shirt baby, it's so gorgeous."

"It's gorgeous when I'm naked underneath and you can fuck me into a desk," Draco rolls his eyes—he has seen what effect a too-big shirt and nothing underneath has on Ronald, and though it's indeed very pleasurable, he cannot guarantee himself it will be the same way if he is forced to wear trousers and a tie—Ron likes him best when he is wearing less clothing, never more, and the fact that every top Ron owns looks like a dress on the blonde, makes more redundant, which is why Ron likes it so much, "Not when used as an actual shirt."

"Don't be ridiculous," his tone is almost condescending, as if he is scolding a toddler, and Draco scowls up to him—then Ron is smiling goofily and Draco thinks that might be the death of his fierce glare, "With trousers as tight as yours there will hardly be a difference. Besides, if you think I'm going to let your run around the school half-naked, you have another something coming!"

That makes Draco smile a little, because Ron is nothing if not possessive, but feeling like he belongs, feels damn good every now and then.

"Fine Weasley, I will wear your shirt," he pretends to be exasperated but when he tugs Ron's waist into his own using a belt-loop, it is immediately made clear that he's only faking, "But I better be getting a reward."

Ron grins rather mischievously, and if there's one thing good about dating a Gryffindor, that sort of messed up bravery must be it, "You want your reward now or later?"

Draco thinks that rationally, later would be the way to go, but then again he always thinks rationally, and how can he say later and mean it when Weasley is fucking standing right there in nothing but his damn jeans. There is nothing sexier than Weasley in just his jeans—except for maybe Weasley naked and panting with his cock hard and dripping, his chest heaving and his mouth slack, moaning over and over again: "Draco, Draco!"—and with his ridiculously broad chest and his stupid freckled neck, Draco finds himself muttering: "now," and though he knows that might just get them in some time-related problems, he also knows that it will be worth it.

And hell, that's good enough for him.

Draco gets into Care of Magical Creatures five minutes late. Logically, it would have been Ron that ran five minutes late, since that half-oaf was all for the redhead, but since his stupid too-big shirt had given Draco quite some issues—using the loo was not as damn easy with a shirt almost reaching your knees—he was the one late. Luckily, the professor is nowhere in sight, and instead all the students are just happily chattering, though they abruptly stop when they see Draco.

It is a warm day, and instead of wearing the courtesy jacket, Draco has settled for the shirt—it covers him in a cuddly way that resembles Ron, really, and is warm and thick—rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. His hips are a little broader than the redhead's, so there, the shirt is better-fitting, even if it happens to cover his ass completely. He has done up his tie as good as he could, but doing it too tight means accentuating the size of the shirt, so Draco decided to keep it relatively loose. All in all, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, the shirt will work out just fine for him.

But then he realises everyone is staring at him and he understands that it's all gone to hell. Still, he simply glares and makes his way to his friends—Pansy makes a little cheering sound and Blaise turns with a scowl, obviously very displeased at his tardiness.

"Finally!" the black boy screeches exasperated—and even more heads turn their way. Vaguely, Draco sees Ron's ginger hair from the corner of his eye, and knowing that his handsome face had been buried in Draco's lap not twenty minutes ago made him grin inwardly, "What took you so long Dray, you even missed breakfast and—" it's not until Blaise halts that Draco raises an eyebrow delicately. He shifts his bag on his shoulder and waits for his best friend to continue, "...what are you wearing?"

"Excuse me?" Draco blinks, fake-innocent. To be honest, he expected something different from his friend, as he was sure Blaise would scold him for not bringing a jacket with him, "It's called a shirt Blaise."

"It's not your shirt," Blaise remarks in his isn't-it-obvious tone. One hand flies to his hip, and Pansy scowls when she realises the boy is right, "Why are you wearing someone else's shirt!"

"You're delusional," the blonde rolls his eyes, pursing his lips because he knows that means good things for his friend's cock and when good things are meant for Blaise's cock, he loses his wits, "This is mine."

"No it's not," Blaise stalks closer to him, and though Draco is a Malfoy, he still feels a little intimidated. He has that look in his eye that either means he's horny or out for murder, and neither are very appealing to Draco, honestly, because Blaise's ass might be superb, he is a walking cliché and the Weasley is the only man Draco wants, "And is that—" an outraged gasp breaks from his lips and he tucks at Draco's collar which—due to the largeness of the shirt—opens easily, revealing part of his chest to the entire population of sixth grade Gryffindors and Slytherins, and with that, a collective gasp follows Blaise's, "IT ARE HICKEYS!"

Once more, Draco rolls his eyes because with the sight Blaise is giving their classmates, he has no doubt they already knew that. Though he sees that odd sort of pride that also shines in the redhead's eyes whenever he has done something that particularly pleases Draco, he also knows Ron has not told his friends about his liking towards men—or Slytherins, for that matter—and he is not as cruel as to let them find out like this.

"DRACO!" Pansy downright shrieks, and Draco feels an inane urge to cover his ears, "Who did this!"

The blonde buttons up the shirt back to deemed perfection, before shooting a glare Pansy's way.

"That is none of your business," when Blaise raises his hand to touch the flaps of the shirt, he swats it off, hissing: "don't bloody touch that."

"Well you have love bites on your arse!" Blaise pouts, and then snatches up the seam of the shirt to prove his point—dark hickeys bruised on his lower back, "You're having sex and you're not telling me!"

"You're having sex?" Pansy's eyes widen and she makes a noise close to a sob, "That can't be!"

"Will the both of you shut up!" he hisses and the rest of the class seems to be shaken a bit, backing off at his tone, "Blaise, here, now," there is only one way to get an excited Blaise to listen, and that is by pinching his ear and dragging him off, hard.

So the Gryffindors and remaining Slytherins get to watch Blaise Zabini bitch and groan as he is pulled away from the group, until they are well out of hearing distance and Draco releases him. It is quite obvious that the Malfoy is enraged, and they see him flaying his arms around in a terribly uncomposed way, pointing to the group and then his chest and just generally causing the slightly taller raven to shrink down in fright.

When he is apparently done fuming, Blaise replies and gets a slap to the back of his head. Just like that, their conversation comes to an end. Draco returns to the other Slytherins—face its usual mask of cold and uncaring. His friend follows with a pout and when Pansy opens her mouth to speak, Draco cuts her off with a bitter: "don't even think about it," which seems to work excellently.

The class continues to stare until a well-pointed glare scares them off and they return to their conversations. Ron finds Draco's eyes and smiles, only to receive a wink in return.

Draco thinks that although the trouble he has to go through with Blaise each time might not be worth it, but for some ridiculous reason, he was in love with that damned Weasley and that meant that whenever he used that fucking sexy gruff voice there was nothing Draco could do but comply.

And if wearing the shirt and dodging Blaise's annoying questions meant that he would get to ride that stupid freckle-face all night long, he would do it, hands down.

AN: so erm... this is a oneshot in three parts. Or does one call it a threeshot at that point ? Next up are "Jacket" and "Jersey", but I'll want some reviews so I know whether I should bother updating or not. Yeah, reviews make the motor run baby, so beg for it !