Title: Best Mates
Author: Lena

Pairing: Ron/Harry

Rating: PG-13 for language mostly.

Warnings: A bit AU-ish in setting.

Summary: Going on vacation with your best mate and drinking too much can create some problems, but lessons are learned and true feelings emerge.
Author’s Notes: Written for the Ron Learns a Lessons challenge on lion_ron. Thank you so much to my beta Lorien Eve.

Ron looked up at the billboard. He blinked as the sun beat down on him. He was hot, sticky, dirty and hung over. He needed to find his hotel. But first he had to wake up Harry.

Harry was lying on the sidewalk. He was on his back, arms outstretched. His mouth was hanging open, and he was snoring louder than Ron ever had.

Ron nudged Harry’s ribs with his foot. Harry snorted, turned onto his side and continued sleeping.

“Harry! Mate, come on!” Ron reached for his own head and clutched it. The ringing in his head from the loudness of his own voice was deafening.

Quieter, Ron whispered, “Mate. Harry. Please?”

Since that didn’t work, Ron reached down and shook Harry’s shoulder. “Merlin, Harry!! Shit, come on mate, wake the fuck up!” Louder this time, despite his enormous headache.

Harry moved his legs, then blinked his eyes open. They were glazed over. A deep dark green. “What the fuck?” he croaked.

He rolled onto his back and looked up at Ron, who was crouching over him. His eyes darted around, then he continued, “Why am I laying on the sidewalk?”

“Erm, I don’t know Harry. I was laying next to you before I woke up. Yeah, have no idea.”

Ron thought back to the night before. The last few things he could honestly remember were bright lights in a club, gyrating men dancing to music, playing poker, lots of alcohol, and a very friendly Harry. He smiled at the last thought.

He looked down at Harry.

“What are you smiling at?” asked Harry.

“Oh, nothing.”

Harry scowled at him. “Help me up.” Harry reached for Ron’s hand as Ron grabbed for Harry’s.

Harry’s hand grasped Ron’s. “Your hand is sweaty!”

Ron rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, just hold on!”

Harry pushed himself up with his other hand. He let go of Ron’s and wiped his hands on the front of his board shorts.

They both looked up at the billboard. Harry turned to Ron. “Where are we?”

“In Vegas.”

“No, shit. I mean, where’s our hotel?”

“Um, dunno.” Ron turned to look at the hotels down the block. They seemed to be at the very end of the long row of the street. Or the Strip, as they had learned it was called. “What was the name of it again?”

“Paris.”

“Right. With the teeny Eiffel Tower.”

“Or was it New York?”

“Oh. Maybe. Was it the name of a big city?”

“I think so.”

“Maybe it was the one like Venice?”

“Why does this city have hotels named after every city but it’s own?”

Harry sighed, then brightened, “What a minute! Don’t you have one of those little card things. The ones you get into the room with?”

“Right.” Ron dug through the pockets of his jeans. He found a piece of paper with a phone number on it, he found a couple of Muggle coins, he found a lighter, which he found odd, then in the last pocket he found a card like Harry described. It was broken in two, but he put the two halves together and it read, “Paris” and had a teeny Eiffel Tower on it. He showed Harry.

Harry said, “Good. Let’s ask where it is.” They started walking down the street, but it was early morning and there were very few people around.

They continued walking. Ron finally got the nerve to ask Harry about the night before. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, what do you remember about last night?’

Harry was silent.

Ron said, “Harry?”

“Yeah, I remember a little bit. Do you remember anything?”

“A little. A club we went to, um, dancing…uh, playing poker…um…”

“Anything else?”

“Well, that you seemed to be having a good time.”

Ron turned at looked at Harry, who was looking determinedly straight ahead. “I suppose I did.”

Ron looked back down the street. “Right.”

They said nothing until they finally reached the Paris Hotel. They walked through the lobby up to the check-in desk. Ron asked the man for a new key, showing him the broken one.

“Name?”

“Weasley.”

“Of course, sir.” The man had a bemused look on his face as he turned to get a new key and activate it. He handed it to Ron when he was finished.

“Thank you,” said Ron.

He and Harry trudged to the elevator. As they were standing waiting for the doors to open, Harry said, “Do you mind if I get in the shower first?”

“No, go ahead,” Ron said. He didn’t look at Harry. He got the feeling Harry didn’t want him to.

The doors opened and they got on. They were silent up the ten floors to their room.

They walked down the hall, and Ron slid the card into the lock. The dot turned green and he pushed the door open. Harry followed him in and immediately turned into the bathroom and shut the door.

Ron felt uneasy. He walked to the mirror and stared into it. His hair was a rat’s nest. It was pulled in different directions, and literally standing on end in the front. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. His back was killing him. He took off his shirt. On his shoulder, he saw a mark. He looked closer in the mirror. It was a bite mark. Not deep, but definitely deep enough to leave such a mark. He had a distinct idea who had given it to him.

*****

Harry shut the door to the bath and leaned up against the back of it. He needed to take a shower. He was filthy, sweaty, hung over and his arse was sore. And he had a distinct idea why.

He turned on the water and pushed it to hot. He waited a minute, then jumped in the shower. It was extremely hot. The mirror was beginning to fog up and steam was enveloping the small room. He was glad. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.

*****

Ron sat on the bed, staring at himself in the mirror and rubbing his shoulder. He didn’t know what to do when Harry got out of the shower. The water had been on for a very long time. Maybe Harry would never come out of there, Ron thought. Then the water shut off.

Ron jumped up, startled, not knowing where to run and hide. He grabbed his comb and yanked it through his hair. It didn’t help that much. He threw it down and rubbed at his eyes, making the bloodshot worse.

The door opened. Ron turned and walked to the window. He pretended to be looking out at all the tall hotels.

“Ron, what are you doing?”

“Looking out the window.”

“I can see that.”

Ron turned to Harry. He hated talking about serious things, but he knew Harry never would. “Harry, how did I get this bite mark on my shoulder?” Ron pointed to the offending mark.

Harry paled. He took a breath, then said quietly, “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t!” yelled Harry.

Ron strode across the room. “Don’t yell at me! You did this! What happened last night?”

Harry snarled, “You tell me. You tell me why my arse feels like it’s been buggered from here to Tuesday!”

Ron’s head spun. He spluttered, “What the hell?”

“You heard me, and you know damn well what happened last night!”

“I…I…Harry, I…you mean, we had…we…”

“Yes.”

“Oh!” Ron sat down on the bed with a thump. He tried to wrap his head around this fact. He and his best mate had…oh, bloody hell! He’d always kind of fancied Harry, but neither of them really seem interested in each other that way. Ron had had some experience with dorm room pranks and well, fun…but his mate? He’d never…hadn’t wanted to…well…go there with Harry.

<i>Guess it’s too late,</i> thought Ron.

*****

Harry had no idea why he was being the world’s biggest git. Ron was shocked, but didn’t seem appalled. But Harry just wanted to, well, drive the point home and blame Ron for it. But Harry knew very well that he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

Ron stared at him. Harry lashed out again, “’Oh!?’ Is that all you can say?”

Ron’s ears turned red, and Harry knew he was angry. “Why are you so mad? This isn’t all my fault! You obviously wanted it, too!”

Harry stopped. “Too?”

Ron said nothing. His face had now turned the shade of a tomato. “Yeah, too. Happy? Well, I’ve learned my lesson. Never go on holiday with your mate!”

Harry stood there. He’d always fancied Ron, but well, never wanted to go there with him. He was his mate after all, and he hadn’t wanted to ruin it.

But he guessed it was too late for that.

*****

Ron laid back on the bed, looking at the ceiling, contemplating what to do next, while Harry went back to the bath to change from the hotel robe to his shorts and shirt.

Ron closed his eyes and curled up, putting the pillow under his head. When Harry came out of the bath, he crawled into the other bed in the room, and Ron heard him slide under the covers.

They were both asleep within a matter of minutes.

*****

Harry opened one eye. He could see Ron curled up on top of the covers. He was facing the other direction, so Harry couldn’t tell whether Ron was awake or not. Harry opened his other eye and blinked. He pulled the covers off of himself and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Ron.

His memory was foggy, but it was coming back. He was remembering dancing at a club, drinking way too much, ending up in somebody’s room playing strip poker, staring at his best friend in the most perverse way imaginable, kissing him…

Oh well, Ron hadn’t pushed him away last night, and Harry didn’t remember finding it as horrible as he had acted it was.

Harry squirmed on his bed, debating whether or not he should march over to Ron’s bed and crawl in beside him. He would get a punch in the nose for it, he was sure.

He couldn’t help himself. If Ron punched him, then he knew their friendship couldn’t be saved, but it was too late to go back to the way things were. Things had already happened between them. Harry guessed they both learned a lesson, he admitted to himself.

Harry continued sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating his miserable life. Then he got up and slowly, quietly slid onto Ron’s bed next to him. He lay there face up, rigid, not touching Ron. He kept his eyes open and focused up at the ceiling.

Then slowly he scooted next to Ron, until Harry touched his back and could feel Ron‘s body heat. He closed his eyes, and his heart was racing, as he turned to curl up behind Ron. He didn’t wrap his arm around him, like he wanted. Harry just lay there touching Ron’s back, feeling the curve of his bum, his nose buried in Ron’s hair.

*****

Ron woke with a start. He was hot, from the hotel room, from not taking a shower, still a bit hung over…and there was a body next to him. This seemed very familiar, as he had woken up similarly that morning on a sidewalk.

He knew it was Harry. It had to be. And he was glad. And this time, he was sober.

He turned slowly to face Harry. Harry snorted, but was still asleep. Ron wrapped his arms around him, pulling Harry closer to him. Harry, sleepily, nuzzled into Ron. Ron threw a leg over Harry’s, touching Harry’s bare leg with his, feeling the tickle of hair against hair and the strength of Harry’s muscle against his.

They lay like that for a long time, until Harry’s eyes popped open. He took a sharp breath, then relaxed, realizing his best mate wanted to hold him.

*****

“What do we do now?” asked Ron, as they packed to go home.

Harry thought for a moment, then said, “Well, I guess this means we’re…er…boyfriends?”

Ron grimaced.

“All right, um, lovers?”

Ron looked pained.

Harry laughed, “Well, what do you want to call us then, mate?”

“Why can’t we just still call each other ‘best mates?’”

“We’ve been that, and now we’re not ‘just’ mates anymore.”

Ron looked thoughtful. “But we’re not ‘just’ mates. We’re ‘best mates’ and you’ve been the only best mate I’ve ever had, and anyway, Neville’s my mate, but he’s not my best mate, and Hermione’s my mate, but she’s certainly not my best mate, and--”

“Okay, okay,” laughed Harry again. “I get it. We’ll be ‘best mates.’”

Ron grinned broadly, reaching over the suitcase and giving Harry a soft kiss on the lips.