Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning of September 1 2013 was not much different than the last five Westley had experienced in his life. He was among the crowd on platform 9 ¾, squished into Lizzie and Ma’s arms as they peppered goodbye kisses against his temples. Mom was already at the school, having said goodbye this morning before flooing to Hogwarts to prepare the potions classroom for coming students, and Ma was taking full advantage of being unsupervised, no wife to protest the embarrassment of her children. Westley was at least able to use his height to his advantage now, leaning his long back away in an attempt to dodge the affection, getting purple hair thrown into his eyes in the process. 

“Ma, come on! I’m gonna miss the train!” He bodily pushed himself away, straightening his bag over his shoulder and running a hand through his hair. Mom finally let him go, and he rushed to the train, followed by her and Lizzie’s goodbyes and well wishes. 

“I love you! Be good for your Mom! I’ll see you at Christmas, try to make an actual friend for me to meet by then, okay Westley! Good luck!”

Westley loved his Ma, he really really did, but she had no tact whatsoever. He understood her concern - it was his 5th year at Hogwarts and he had yet to make a, to use her own words, actual friend, not just be friendly with his classmates - but did she really need to tell the entirety of the Hogwarts Express?

It’s not that he didn’t want to have a friend. He did, he was a fourth generation Hufflepuff for Merlin’s sake, friendship was in his blood. (Okay not literally his blood, but his Mom, and her Mom, and her Mom were all Hufflepuffs, and Westley had heard enough talk about having “unknown blood” already, so he didn’t really give a shit.)

But god was it difficult.

He had tried a little too hard as a firstie. Everyone he met, no matter the house, got the same introduction - Hi, I’m Westley! I like quidditch and reading and the ocean! Want to be friends? - and the kids would laugh and humour him for a moment, before they eventually realized that the energy needed to keep up with the boy was too much. Or, sometimes, he’d find someone who could match his energy when it was high, but inevitably got bored when Westley’s hyper fixation would cycle its way back to devouring novels in the library. 

The worst was when they found out he was adopted. After the second Wizarding War, blood status wasn’t seen as quite so important anymore, but that didn’t mean prejudice didn’t still exist at Hogwarts; or at least baked in relations due to status. Westley didn’t know his birth parents - his moms had never really given him any details, and he never bothered to ask. He had no interest, his moms were his moms. The idea of asking as some perverted way to gain friends just felt wrong - and had no idea if they were magical. His Ma was a muggle, and she and his half-blood Mom hadn’t sought out magical children purposely, just luck of the draw. That was all he knew, and unfortunately that wasn’t enough for more people than he expected. 

Apparently blood status was still important enough when creating the bonds that may last for the next seven years. Not having an answer at all was worse than any he could possibly give.

At least Elizabeth had been able to give an answer. She was much better at people than he was, never letting the mystery get in the way of making friends in the first place. Then again, his big sister wasn’t magical. Most muggle children didn’t really give a shit.

The no friends thing probably wasn’t helped by how quickly Westley has given up. He’d be polite and funny and outgoing when needed, adapting his personality for whatever fit best; he’d be someone people enjoyed having around but never sought out, the one guy everyone knew by name but never stuck around to learn more about. And he’d learn to be happy with that. 

Learning to be happy ended up turning into adopting a cynical sense of pessimistic realism, but meh, same difference. He’d still be cordial to others - just because he was a loser didn’t mean he was an asshole - and he got along with his teammates, joining them for post game celebrations and house parties, but he’d stopped trying to make friends. Despite his yearning for companionship - for someone to talk to and to hold and to just love , even solely platonically - he kept his cards close to his chest, swallowing down his instinctive reactions for something more subdued. 

Because Westley was a coward. Terrified of rejection, of what it would feel like to have someone know him and leave him behind because of it.

Elizabeth was much braver than him, having confronted their moms over the summer break two years ago; asking questions like who and how and why.

Westley had left the room. 

He told himself it was because he didn’t want nor need to know - and that’s true , he didn’t, and he still doesn’t - but he knows he left because he was scared. Terrified of nothing and everything, of his birth parents being alive; that there were people out there that simply didn’t want him without even needing to get to know him first, or perhaps they had lost him and were searching, scouring the earth for a child that would not recognize them. Terrified that they were dead, that the father he always considered hunting down wasn’t there to be found. So many conflicting thoughts, feelings climbing atop one another like crabs in a bucket, shoving the competition down before it even has the chance to taste fresh air. 

So Westley had left the room, running out to the hills behind their house and getting through his panic attack in the comfort of solitude under the stars, white poppies to keep him company. He had shooed his sister away when she had come to try to talk to him.

He still regrets it. 

He was brought out of his annual Self Deprecation Train Ride Extravaganza when he entered what he thought was an empty compartment only to be met with the soft sound of muffled sobs when he closed the door. 

There was a boy seated on the left side of the compartment, one Westley had never seen before. He couldn’t be a first year - despite Westley immediately assuming such due to not recognizing him - he was just way too tall . Even crumpled in on himself, gangly limbs pressed close to his chest as he curled up in the corner next to the window, Westley thought this guy might match him in height. 

Which, and Westley didn’t like to brag, was quite impressive. He was the tallest in his year, after all. At least, he was before the break. But where Westley was broad shouldered and muscled from quidditch year round and rugby in the summer, this stranger was lithe and toned under ripped jeans and a red tank top.

The boy’s head whipped up, and Westley’s attention was stolen by bright aquamarine eyes. The boy had seafoam green hair that fell into his face, sticking to his cheeks. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy, the skin raw and angry looking. His jaw had a soft slope, cupped by a pointed chin that trembled in time with plush lips. 

“You good?” Westley asked, stepping forward. The boy’s surprised expression crumpled, and he pressed his face back into his knees with a keening whine that sent a sharp stab right through Westley’s soft heart. He fell to one knee next to the bench, bag dropping to the floor as he reached out to place a comforting hand on the poor guy’s shoulder. “Shit, mate, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

Teary blue eyes met concerned grey. “I… I want to go h-home!” His words were distorted due to his tears, but Westley could make out an American accent.

Ah, homesick already. Westley understood that very well, he had a good cry himself on the train ride to Hogwarts his first year. 

Maybe that was why he didn’t have any friends. 

Oh well, not important. The sad pretty boy falling into his arms due to the train jerking into motion was a bit more pressing.

“Woah there.” Westley let his hand drift across the boy’s shoulders, guiding his fall into Westley’s chest as he let his instincts take control. The boy’s button nose was cold where it pressed into the fabric of Westley’s shirt, his hair smelt like oranges and sea salt. “It’ll be alright, love. Your first year away from home can be real scary, but you’ll get used to it.”

“I’ve been away from home before, I’m almost fifteen, not a baby.” Was muttered indignantly in between sniffles. He was still in Westley’s arms despite the train having settled into a smooth swaying. “I don’t want to, to get used to it , I wanna go home .”

“Did you go to a different school?” Westley let himself be blunt, trying to repress the need to tuck this adorable stranger away and cuddle him forever. “Why did you transfer?”

The boy pulled away suddenly, jerking his shoulders out of Westley's hold. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, just upset again. More tears ran down his cheeks and he wiped them away roughly while cramming himself back in the corner. Westley fought the urge to grab his hands and wipe his face gently himself. 

“My mom and my dad don’t want to live together with me anymore! She made him leave and he took me with him and and” he stuttered over his words, pausing to take in a couple hiccoughing breaths. “We moved here cause that’s where his mom lives. I just want to go home, I miss California, I miss my mom. It’s not fair! ”

Well shit, okay. That was quite a lot more than just homesickness. 

He reached out again, placing his hand on a bony knee. He squeezed once, getting the boy’s attention. “I’m real sorry you had to deal with that, sweetheart. I can’t offer much in the way of making it better, but I’m happy to sit with you for a bit. Sometimes a good cry with company is just what the doctor ordered.” 

The boy looked at him with fresh tears. “What’s your name?” He sniffled.

“Westley.” He didn’t even blink at the change in subject. “What’s yours, love?”

“Cove.”

“Cove.” Westley repeated, savoring it on his tongue. It was perfect, incredibly befitting for a boy who looked like the sea itself taking mortal form to grace Westley with its presence. “That’s lovely. It suits you.”

Cove ducked his head down, cheeks flushing a pretty pink hue. “Why-” he bit his lip, shyly looking up at Westley through thick lashes while rubbing a pale scar on his forearm. Westley could see him chewing on his words before he finally spit them out in a rushed exhale. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Huh?” Westley asked lamely, distracted by the ocean blue of Cove's eyes.

“The thing you said before.” Cove hesitated again. “ When you asked me my name, and, and before that... The um, the pet names.”

“Oh.” Merlin, Westley was an idiot. Could he be more pathetic? One pretty boy shows him a modicum of attention and he starts to practically ravage the poor thing. “Shit, sorry, I didn't really do it on purpose. I’ll stop, I-I promise, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He started to pull his hand away as well. 

“No!” Cove exclaimed, louder than anything Westley had heard him say so far. He quickly shrunk back in on himself. “No, it's okay. I… I liked it.” Long tanned fingers hesitantly tangled with Westley’s, still gripping the younger boy’s knee. 

Merlin’s sweet balls, Westley was going to die. Cove was adorable, the baby fat that still clung to his cheeks squishing into his eyes as he offered Westley a sunny, if subdued, smile. 

Westley was already half in love. It couldn’t be helped. His heart was beating a mile a minute, blush creeping up his neck and tingling across the tops of his ears. He squeezed Cove’s fingers once, twice, then reluctantly pulled away. Better to distance himself first, lessen the sting when this beautiful boy inevitably gets bored of him. 

“Is there someone you want me to go get for you?”

“No.” Cove is frowning again, and Westley hates that he is the cause of it. “I don’t wanna see anyone.”

“Right,” Westley said weakly; he had seen that coming. His legs were protesting the kneeling position anyway, and he should try to find another empty compartment - something that will most likely be impossible now that everyone was boarded - before he’s stuck socializing the entire time. His heart skips a beat at the thought of socializing with Cove for the rest of the ride and he forces the giddy thought down. He rises to his feet, grabbing his bag where it had been tossed on the ground a couple feet away. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“W-wait!” A hand wrapped its way around his wrist as he turned away, palm large and fingers strong. “That came out wrong. I…” Cove trailed off, and Westley couldn’t stop himself from looking back. 

He was right; Cove almost matched him in height, only a couple inches shorter. His posture was better than Westley expected. Instead of hunched over like he had been when sitting, Cove’s shoulders were back and spine straight; although his gaze was directed at Westley’s chucks instead of his face. He was rubbing his scar again with the hand that wasn’t holding onto Westley - it took every ounce of willpower Westley had not to interrupt and ask him about it - and wore the same look on his face he had before asking about the accidental endearments, face tomato red.

“Would you, um, would you still sit with me?”

Westley was really starting to like that expression of Cove’s; he always said the most wonderful things when wearing it. Westley had begun to nod, a bewildered smile growing on his face, when the train gave another lurch. 

He let his bag drop to the ground again, breaking the hold on his wrist to instead reach out with both hands, grabbing Cove around the waist before he could face plant into the carpeted floor. Cove’s arms went around his shoulders as he let out a startled squeak, and Westley had to channel a fierce onslaught of cute aggression into squeezing the smaller boy’s lithe waist - which only served to earn him another wordless exclamation, equally adorable and embarrassed.

“Westley?” That’s it, he gave up. Westley was fully in love. Hearing his name in the form of a watery, slightly breathy voice pulled him over the edge. 

“Hm?” was all he could manage in response. Cove was pressed against his front, seemingly unaware of how close they were. His eyes were closed as he leaned into Westley’s hold, a sweet smile on his face, perfectly at home in a stranger's arms.

Westley was gonna have his hands full with this one, wasn’t he. Literally, in this case.

“Thank you.” Cove sighed. “You’re really nice.” 

“O-oh.” Westley banished the less than pure thoughts he was having about how tiny Cove’s waist was despite the firm muscles he could feel beneath the - frankly hideous - patterned tank top. Proof enough right there he wasn’t as nice as this lovely boy thought he was. “Sure, if you say so darling. Are you feeling better?” He studied Cove’s face. His eyes were open again and he looked pensive, lower lip trapped between his teeth and brow furrowing as he gazed unfocused over Westley’s shoulder. Westley was learning that his new companion was quite the open book, if a bit spacey. 

“Not good,” he finally answered, “but not as bad as before. It was just a lot.”

Westley nodded in sympathy. “Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather change the subject?”

“You’ll stay?” Westley nodded and gave Cove’s waist another squeeze when he was rewarded with the brightest smile yet. “Something different would be nice.” Cove continued, then bit his lip again, twisting his fingers into the collar of Westley’s shirt, “but I don’t really want to talk much.”

“That’s okay. Do you know much about Hogwarts’ houses? And the sorting system?” All he got in response was a shy frown as Cove shook his head. He seemed to realize how close they were when his gaze finally met Westley’s. He jumped away, another startled squawk leaving his lips, and Westley was seriously considering marriage. He let Cove go without a fight and gestured for him to take a seat. “Relax, love. Let’s get you up to date.”

They sat back down on the bench, side by side, and Cove tucked his socked feet - how had Westley not realized the boy wasn’t wearing any shoes - under Westley’s broad thigh and leaned forward, arms wrapping around his legs to hold his knees to his chest. Westley told Cove all about the sorting hat, the four houses, the teachers he could expect to see and which to avoid. He relayed as many facts from Hogwarts: A History as he could remember, and Cove soaked each one up with curious eyes; asking questions in dulcet tones and breaking into sunny smiles and light giggles when Westley cracked jokes. They eventually found a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories about their lives and comparing them. Westley learnt more about Ilvermorny, the North American wizarding school Cove used to attend, and their equally oddly named houses. 

“So, what house were you in there?” Westley asked.

“Pukwudgie.” Cove smiled softly as he answered. “It’s supposed to represent the heart of the wizard, and most people in it tend to be good with healing magic.”

“Are you?”

“Oh, not really.” Cove looked away bashfully. “I had the choice between two houses, actually. Pukwudgie, which I obviously chose, and Horned Serpent. I…Horned Serpent is the mind of the wizard, and the house usually seeks out scholars. I really do like Ancient Runes and Arithmancy way more than other stuff, except for maybe Charms, but that’s mostly just me experimenting with my fish tank.

“Being a scholar just felt really final, y’know? Like, I don’t know if this makes any sense, but it felt like I would be committing to enjoying learning, and I was worried that would make it less fun.”

“I get what you mean. I guess Hufflepuff would be the ‘heart’ house of Hogwarts, so maybe you’ll end up there with me. Although, you’ll probably be a Ravenclaw. No one who actually likes Arithmancy could escape the nerd house at Hogwarts, you don’t get to choose here.”

“Hey!” Cove giggled and his nose wrinkled. He settled into an easy smile and titled his head, leaning his temple against his knees. “In all seriousness, I don’t think I’d mind being in the mind house this time - pun intended.” Westley groaned but huffed a laugh, gesturing for Cove to continue. “I like learning and reading and all the other stuff associated with the ‘smart houses’, but I’ve also learned recently that I can focus on things I like and still have other hobbies, and I don’t need that to define me. So, yeah. I don’t think I’ll mind much, wherever I end up.”

“Does that mean you’re okay with being here? I don’t have to worry about you running away to California?” Westley poked Cove’s shoulder as he teased, earning him an eye roll. 

“Jury’s still out on that one. I do miss home, but I’m starting to think it might not be so bad here.” His aquamarine gaze burned into Westley’s, and the older boy scrambled to change the subject before he did something rational, like propose. 

“Do you play quidditch?”

He did not - turns out Cove’s sport of choice was surfing, spending his summers back home in Southern California riding waves from dawn until dusk. That explained the toned swimmers build Westley had felt. They continued to talk until they deboarded the train at Hogsmeade station, Westley half-way into a rambling recap of last year's Quidditch Cup final between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

“So there I am, in front of the goals like a good little keeper, and Charleston is racing in my direction. He’s got the quaffle in one hand, the other white knuckled on his broom, Thing One and Two behind him. They’re racing towards me, and we all know” at this Westley taps the side of his head, getting another giggle from his audience of one, “that even if their seeker gets the snitch, we’d still win by ten points. All they need is one more goal, and then Gribbins can finally actually try to catch the damn thing instead of just getting in the way of our seeker, and it will end in a tie. Charleston closes in, glaring into my soul, and -”

“Mister Holden!” A deep voice interrupts his story, booming at them from the opposite direction of the carriages they’re heading to. Cove startled at the shouted name, and Westley could only assume it was his. They both turned towards the lake. Hagrid was standing there, directing firsties to the boats on the edge of the water, and he was gesturing for Cove to join him. 

“That’s Hagrid,” Westley supplied, throwing an arm around Cove’s shoulders in an attempt to soothe the panicked look taking over the boy’s face. “He’s the groundskeeper and a teacher, I told you about him, yeah? Most likely just has special instructions for you ‘cause you’re new.”

Cove didn’t look very convinced. A line had formed between his wavy brows - Westley hadn’t noticed those until long after he noticed the lack of shoes. They had been covered by Cove’s bangs, and in Westley’s defense, the afternoon sun backlighting Cove on the train ride over had made him look almost ethereal. He was too taken in by bright eyes and the loveliest smile to focus on something as trivial as eyebrows - and his lips were twisting into an adorable pout. 

“I can talk to him with you, if you want.” That, at least, seemed to make Cove feel better, as he perked up slightly beneath Westley’s arm. His agreement - at least, Westley hoped he was about to agree - was cut off by another of Hagrid’s deep shouts. 

“Westley! That yeh?! Good to see yeh, lad.” Hagrid was walking towards them, now. Cove turned away, slightly hiding himself in Westley’s hold - seems like a yes to me talking . “See yeh’ve alrea’y charmed our newest student!” Hagrid laughed to himself, and Westley forced himself to replace his oncoming frown at Cove being cut off with a small chuckle. 

“Guilty as charged, Hagrid. How was your summer?” At least he genuinely liked Hagrid; it’s easier to be polite when you kind of give a shit. That and he wanted to give Cove a chance to get used to the half giant before leaving him alone with him. 

“Oh, the usual.” Hagrid gave one of his great shoulders a shrug. “Not t’ rush yeh out Westley, but I got to take Mister Holden ‘ere with me so he can be sorted.” Westley didn’t mind - even though his heart protested leaving Cove so soon - he was used to being ‘rushed out.’

Cove had started to come out from where he had pressed himself to Westley’s side - there was no way Cove had any idea what he was doing, Westley was sure of it. The way he had reacted on the train was more than enough proof. Westley couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than the contact being on purpose - but fully jumped away at the news. 

“What? Why can't Westley come?” Cove sounded almost offended on his behalf. As if Westley was missing out by not getting to cross the lake on rickety boats just to be stared at by the entire student body, on an equally rickety stool, in the middle of the Great Hall while a sentient hat read his mind. Yeah no, Cove could have that all to himself.

“I’ve already been sorted, darling.” Westley chuckled and offered Cove his bag. Westley had taken it from him before deboarding the train - his own bag slung over the same shoulder so he could reach out to Cove with his free arm if the crowd got thick - and just walked out of the compartment, still telling his story; Cove had tried to protest but was too intrigued with what he was saying to continue trying to interrupt for more than a few paces. 

Cove still looked hesitant now, face shadowed over in the quickly setting sun, but at least he grabbed his bag. “But, I wanna stay with you.” He whispered

This boy was seriously bad for Westley’s health. Hagrid could probably see the hearts in his eyes, if the raised brow he gave the pair was any inclination. “Cove, you’ll be fine without me. However, if you still for some reason want to see me later, I’ll be at the Hufflepuff table. Come find me after dinner.”

Cove rushed forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around Westley’s torso in a surprisingly fierce hug. “Thank you,” he muttered into the broad meat of Westley’s shoulder. They had both put their robes on before deboarding - Westley’s with Hufflepuff yellow accents, Cove’s the same plain black as the firsties - but he could still feel the warmth of Cove’s body heat as he wrapped an arm around the shorter boy’s back, the other pulling him in at the shoulders and savoring each second.

Then he was gone, darting out of Westley’s hold. He vaguely heard Hagrid saying goodbye, something about making sure not to miss the carriages, but was too distracted to really process the words. Still, thankfully, Westley’s feet carried him to one of the carriages on auto pilot, slipping in and closing his eyes once settled. He’d feign sleep if anyone tried to join him, he couldn’t think straight enough - ha - to talk to anyone right now. 

Cove had felt so perfect in his arms, just like the time on the train but better . So much better because it was intentional . Cove had wanted to hug him, wanted to reciprocate the affection and be close to Westley .

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about Cove . How would he feel, curled up with Westley in one of the Hufflepuff common room armchairs - ugly, yellow and black tartan plush things that were big enough to fit four firsties squished together and somehow the most comfortable pieces of furniture Westley had ever experienced - as they read by the fire. Would Cove sit between his legs, curled up under blankets with his back to Westley’s chest within perfect range to have kisses pressed into his hair, all cozy in a borrowed sweater, reading aloud while Westley studied quidditch formations? 

Or would Cove prefer to sit beside him outside, on a blanket near the Black Lake. They could bundle up against the rapidly cooling Scotland air, and Westley would pull Cove’s hands close and rub them warm, kissing his nose to do the same. Cove had mentioned loving the beach, and that was the closest thing Hogwarts had; while nowhere near the same, it was still added to Westley’s list of potential date spots. 

Merlin, he hadn’t even known the guy for a full day yet and he was already planning dates. To be fair, Cove was just too lovely not to crush on. Never mind the simple fact that he was gorgeous , Cove was also incredibly smart despite his spacy nature - multiple of their conversation on the train ride over had dissolved into theoretical discussions of charms after Cove had admitted to experimenting with magic and muggle technology, a hobby Westley had started getting into over the break so he could smuggle in his portable DVD player into Hogwarts and have it actually work - and Westley was nothing if not a tried and true sapiosexual. 

Cove was also incredibly genuine. Every word, while delivered straight to the point and slightly monotone, had been carefully thought out and spoken with dizzying earnesty. He was funny - or, at least, punny - and the crybaby tendencies were adorable. He had broken into tears more times than Westley had been able to count, and each had caused his heart to skip a beat in his chest. He had forced himself to keep his hands in his lap, worried that he’d be crossing a line if he reached out to dry the tears himself. His fingers had twitched with the urge to caress puffy cheeks, to rub his thumb under aquamarine eyes and chase it with his lips, soothing and tickling the skin at the same time. 

He let himself think of it now; of how Cove would most likely go bright red and doe eyed, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Or would he welcome the affection, leaning into the touch and Westley could capture his laughter with his lips. 

Okay that was a little far fetched. He had a feeling things would be slow going with Cove, the poor guy was clueless and also incredibly easy to fluster; but at the same time, that was even more appealing. The idea of getting to know Cove, of exploring his mind and his heart - the very places his magic was strongest, per is old school’s house system - and just spending time with the other boy innocently sounded lovely. Simply sharing space and conversation on the train had left Westley’s soul feeling warm and cozy, like he had wrapped it up in a warm blanket.

Cove could take all the time he needed. Hell, he could decide he didn’t even want Westley like that at all, just as a friend; a guide even, until he was confident at Hogwarts. Westley would take what he could get, and he’d wait patiently forever if he had to. He’d wait until Cove came to him, following his pace and letting him take the lead.

Because every extra moment with Cove would make the inevitable heartbreak when he left worth it .

~~~

Hagrid was kind, and more of a comforting presence than Cove had expected. He was glad that Westley had told him everything he needed to know already, as Cove wasn’t listening to a word the ginormous man was saying; his voice and the sloshing of the water around them a backing track to the freak out Cove was currently experiencing. 

He was used to freaking out. It was kind of his thing, and he was aware enough to admit that, but this freak out was different than any one he’d had before - mostly due to the subject matter.

Westley was just so, well, nice. He had broad shoulders and large, rough hands; beautiful grey eyes and such kind words. Cove wasn’t usually one to like people, especially strangers. He’s been described as cold, blunt, and, in some cases, mean. Yet, with Westley it was a different story.

Cramped in the sketchiest boat he had ever ridden in (Westley really hadn’t been exaggerating) and tuning out Hagrid’s thickly accented rambling, Cove settled into the thought spiral. He could understand that there was something about the larger boy that called out to him. Something that had Cove opening up, crying and laughing and relaxing into the moment with a stranger. 

Except, Westley had never really felt like a stranger. He was like the golden retriever that used to live at the house next door, back home. It didn’t matter who walked up to the gate, brand new tourist or lifelong neighbor, the dog was happy to see them and ready to love and be loved in return - immediately endearing herself to anyone who crossed her path. 

Westley had made the same sweet face, when he had first reached out to Cove. His head had tilted, fluffy hair falling in an adorable imitation of floppy ears, and his rumbling voice had been so warm as he comforted Cove. The other boy was maybe even Cove’s friend now - hopefully, Cove wasn’t exactly sure yet - and he was infinitely grateful for him.

He still wasn’t happy. Like he had told Westley, he wanted to go home , but the promise of the taller boy’s company was definitely a good start at convincing him to stay. Westley kept him from thinking about his dad and his surprises, soothed him with sweet words and terms of endearment. Cove had been too surprised to be embarrassed at first, and spent most of the train ride freaking out that he’d told Westley he’d liked it - even if it was true. The pet names - love, and, sweetheart , and darling replaying in a deep, smooth voice over and over in Cove’s head - had absolutely turned Cove red; he could still feel the heat tingling beneath his skin. But the blush had only made Westley smile softly, gaze trailing from Cove’s cheeks to his lips then back up to his eyes. 

No one had ever looked at Cove like that before. He’d been flirted with, yes; Cove was used to being approached by strangers interested in his height and his hair and his unique eyebrows, teenagers on the brink of puberty spouting pickup lines and confessions that just made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like the idea of someone deciding to date him just because they liked the way he looked, or that he towered above them. 

He knew that at some point, he was supposed to start having the same… thoughts. He thought people were pretty from an objective standpoint, he wasn’t blind - his friend Terri and her best friend Miranda were drop dead gorgeous, even he could admit that - but he had just never really had any thoughts about being something more with anyone. The idea of finding someone attractive just felt wrong. 

Although it didn’t feel quite so wrong when he thought about maybe finding Westley attractive, not after they had spent so much time so close together. It was impossible for Cove not to notice the strong line of his jaw, or the dozens of freckles splattered across the bridge of his broad nose. It was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken and reset multiple times - and considering the fact that each story Westley had told him about quidditch had included the keeper getting a quaffle to the face, that was probably true - and a touch too large for his face, but it crinkled in the most beautiful way when he dissolved into snorting laughter at his own jokes. His deep purple hair was styled in a shag, curling around the base of his neck and fluffing out at the top. With dark lashes and a deep voice, the tiniest bit of black eyeliner on his lower lash line, he looked like a rockstar; leaving Cove feeling like a lovestruck groupie.

He had no idea what to make of it, but now that he’d seen that gleam of unidentifiable emotion in Westley’s eyes, felt his large hands around his waist and heard his name on his tongue, Cove wondered if maybe these were those feelings he was waiting for.

His heart was beating quickly, his breaths shallow, face flushed and palms sweaty. He couldn’t calm his thoughts or focus properly on his surroundings, and all he could see was Westley’s face, looking up at him with soft eyes rounded in concern as he comforted Cove while he cried. 

It felt like a freak out to him. His mom told him he should call them panic attacks, but that felt too over the top. He wasn’t panicking , he was just - freaking out. Panic was for things that actually mattered. 

Like moving halfway across the world and leaving behind his mom and his only friend. Being stuck in the middle of nowhere in the Welsh countryside with his father and grandmother, - a frail old woman who did not seem to like Cove very much - nothing to do but think about what had led him here. That was worth a panic or two. Everyday. For the last 6 weeks. 

So yeah, Cove did not consider being a little bit embarrassed about taking comfort in a handsome stranger a panic attack. This was just a freak out - what he was heading towards before Westley had found him was a panic attack.

The journey to the school was a blur, and Cove took the castle in with vaguely distracted awe as he deboarded. He wished Westley were with him now, whispering answers to his many questions. He had been so thorough on the ride over. Cove replayed parts of their conversation as he milled about the entrance hall with a bunch of small European children, waiting for the large doors before them to open. Westley had been so animated when discussing charm theory, had spoken softly with a wistful smile when talking about his mothers and older sister, and came truly alive when retelling his quidditch stories to an entranced Cove. 

The doors finally opened, and Cove felt himself fully begin to drift away at the sheer amount of eyes on him. Or, at least, on him and the gaggle of - what was it Westley had called them? - firsties surrounding him. He went through the motions of walking up the hall on autopilot - mind flashing back to a similar moment years ago, facing large statues and gasping as two of them came to life - watching tiny kid after tiny kid hop on a stool and have an old hat placed on their head. Houses were shouted - too loud - and the kids would jump off with bright smiles before running off to their cheering housemates. 

Cove tried to look for Westley, but he was having a hard time making out the features of the other students seated at the long tables. The hall was lit by a multitude of candles floating above them that had been dimmed when the newest students had entered, and Westley’s distinct purple hair was too dark to discern from browns and blacks. 

Eventually his name was called, an older woman reading it off an aged piece of parchment. He stepped up to the stool, glancing once more at the Hufflepuff table from the pedestal, and finally caught Westley’s gaze. He was seated halfway down the table, back to the Slytherins, and was looking at Cove with half lidded eyes. He realized he had Cove’s attention, and gave him a wink and a grin before the hat was placed on Cove’s head, covering his eyes. 

Cove wasn’t sure what he was expecting. At Ilvermorny you were chosen through the houses prodding at the parts of the wizard they represent; poking and digging and deciding if they want you, and if they did they’d show it. Being compatible in two of the four was common enough, and there was often a sense of choice and freedom to the sorting.

The hat, however, hadn’t even been on his head for thirty seconds before it was shouting. “RAVENCLAW” it bellowed, and Cove tried not to look disappointed - despite what he had told Westley earlier, he felt a little sad knowing they wouldn’t be in the same house. He stood from the stool (the other students hadn’t even grazed the floor when seated; his feet had been firmly planted the whole time) and made his way to his new house’s table, away from Westley. 

The rest of the sorting passed quickly. Cove was seated on the Gryffindor side of the Ravenclaw table between two fifth years who introduced themselves as half of his new roommates. Jonathan was a tiny, soft spoken but inquisitive boy with thick black curls and an even thicker Irish accent, and Chester was his opposite; voice confident and loud, hair a pale brown and skin milky white. They peppered him with questions, Cove’s only saving grace being the professor from before calling out a new name.

Dinner was overwhelming. So many different dishes appeared in front of Cove at once, too many decisions to make, and there was just so much noise. Students chattering, cutlery clanging against dishes, the sounds of chewing and sipping and swallowing closing in on Cove from all sides. He reached out slowly for a roll, then a spoonful of carrots, forcing his body to move with stiff, aborted motions. Some of the students at the Ravenclaw table - including Chester and Jonathan - tried to talk to him, but he didn’t even bother putting up a polite front. Instead he picked at his food, barely eating despite the hunger gnawing at his stomach, and counted down the minutes until he could go back to Westley and get far away from here. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Cove felt a sudden familiar warmth on his shoulder. He looked up, happy to see grey eyes and amethyst hair and that handsome grin, and felt his own face break into his first smile since they separated. Westley gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, but his greeting was cut off by Chester scoffing on his left.

“Last, do us all a favor and go back to your own table. If we wanted to see something pathetic we would read the missed connections column in the Prophet.”

Cove whipped his head towards Chester, intending to do something to defend the kindest person he had ever met - what he’d do he wasn’t exactly sure of yet - but stopped when Westley chuckled and squeezed his shoulder again. 

“Wow Charleston, that actually kind of stung.” Westley gave Chester an easy grin and it clicked for Cove that this wasn’t exactly a fight, so much as banter between rivals. The name Charlseton rang a little bell in the back of his mind, and he vaguely remembered Chester saying something about being on the quidditch team. This must be the chaser Westley was telling him about before they had separated. “I’m impressed. If that’s what you can come up with in three months, imagine what you can do by the end of the year for our rematch! That is, if Ravenclaw can even make it to the finals this year.”

Chester laughed demurely, smirk turning sharp. “We’ll see about that. I see you’ve met the newest addition?” He raised a pointed eyebrow at Westley’s hand on Cove’s shoulder, but said newest addition was too preoccupied looking at Westley to notice.

Cove’s favorite sight in the world was quickly becoming the way Westley’s eyes would soften as soon as they landed on Cove. Grey melted into mercury, sparkling and bright under the candlelight - and thank god they had turned the lights up when it was time to eat. Cove was wearing new contacts and was still getting used to them, having his eyes working extra hard to discern shapes in the dim light would have given him a killer headache - and Westley gave him a relaxed smile, petty animosity for Chester forgotten. 

“I have. How was the sorting, love? Didn’t I tell you you’d get stuck with these nerds?” 

Westley’s gaze had left his face to instead take in the measly selection that was Cove’s untouched dinner while he had spoken. Cove gave him a huff and rolled his eyes, but before he could respond he was cut off again, this time by an exuberant burst of laughter from further down the table. It was so loud here. At least at Ilvermorny he could take food from the hall back to his room, usually eating by himself while reading at his desk, music playing quietly from his charmed MP3 player. He flinched at the overwhelming amount of noise, and mercury solidified into concerned steel as Westley’s attention was brought back to Cove’s face.

“Wanna get out of here?” 

“Yes.” Cove was out of his seat before the word fully left his lips. “Please.”

Westley - because he was nice - didn’t laugh at his rushed reaction. He just held out a hand with a charming grin, and once Cove had shyly taken hold he turned back to Chester. 

“Hope you don’t mind me pilfering the prettiest among your ranks, Charleston, because if you do, I don’t give a shit. Cheers.” Westley gave the bewildered boy a wink and turned on his heel, tugging a furiously blushing Cove behind him and out of the great hall. Westley didn’t slow down as they descended into the lower levels of the castle. His hand was warm in Cove’s, grip tight and grounding, squeezing in time with his exaggerated inhales and exhales in an attempt to get the younger boy to breathe steadily.

“Sorry to steal you away so early. I was going to wait until you came to me, but you looked so scared and sad sitting there, and you weren’t eating, and I figured the great hall wasn’t exactly the best place for you to be right now.” Westley was rambling, voice smooth and tone apologetic, not looking at Cove to instead focus on guiding them down a narrow, twisting stone staircase. “And what kind of person would I be if I made you suffer through an entire dinner next to Chester Charleston? 

“I just want to get a few things from my dorm, then we can grab food from the kitchens and find somewhere quiet to eat.” He abruptly stopped as they reached the end of the stairs. Westley smacked his head into the broad palm of his free hand, then turned to look up at Cove a couple steps above him with a sheepish wince, still half hidden. “You would probably rather go to your own dorm now that I think about it. I just dragged you to the opposite side of the damn castle! Fuck, I’m sorry sweetheart.” 

Cove was too bewildered by the sudden switch in mood to reply. Westley had been so confident on the walk here, taking charge and letting Cove calm down without having to worry about navigating the unfamiliar castle. Now he looked like a kicked puppy, gaze stormy grey with regret as he removed the hand from his face to run it through shaggy hair instead. 

“The Ravenclaw dorms don’t have a password, just a riddle, so we could drop you off there if you would prefer, but we should still get you something to eat first.” Westley’s thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of Cove’s hand - he wasn’t sure if the larger boy realized he was doing it - and his heart dropped to his stomach at the thought of losing this comfort so soon.

“No!” Cove squeezed Westley tightly, as if he could fuse their hands together if he tried hard enough, and his friend - because they had to be friends, right? Westley had come back for him - looked at him with surprise at the shout. Cove pressed his lips together before taking the bottom between his teeth. He could feel the blush creeping down his neck and across his cheeks. He ducked his head, giving himself a pep talk in the momentary reprieve of eye contact. C’mon Cove, just say it. Tell him you don’t want him to go, tell him before he leaves! Why are you acting like this?! He forced himself to look at Westley through the corner of his eye, head still tilted away, and let the words leave him in a rush. “Somewhere quiet with you sounds nice.”

“Oh.” Westley seemed speechless, but his eyes were sparkling and a grin teased at his lips. “Great, that’s great.” He pulled them forward again - both avoiding the other’s eyes - before stopping in front of a tall stack of barrels and dropping Cove’s hand. “Give me a couple minutes, I’ll be right back.” 

He tapped out a pattern on the barrel two from the bottom, in the middle of the second row, and an entrance swung open. Cove let out a gasp of surprise, and Westley turned back to him with a wink before disappearing inside. He returned minutes later with the same bag he had on the train slung over his shoulder. His robes were replaced with a large black zip up hoodie half falling off, hair slightly disheveled.

Westley took his hand with a soft smile, and led the way to the kitchens before once again leaving him outside the entrance. Cove wasn’t quite sure what to make of tickling a pear to open a door, but he’d seen weirder things. They tracked their way up to the seventh floor once Westley was back and the taller boy turned away from him as they stopped in front of an ugly tapestry apparently depicting someone named Barnabas the Barmy.

Westley looked around, seemingly investigating the blank stone, before nodding once. He closed his eyes, then began pacing in front of the wall. 

“Um, what are you-” Cove cut himself off when a door appeared on the once empty wall.  Westley opened it with a flourish, and gestured for Cove to enter. 

He stepped into a cozy looking sitting room. The walls were the same dark stone that was found throughout the castle, the floor covered by plush rugs in multiple muted shades. There was an overstuffed blue couch and a couple equally plush armchairs clustered around a roaring fireplace. 

“You gonna stand there all night, space cadet?” Westley gently pushed him forward with hand on the small of his back. Cove let himself be guided to the couch, and he flopped into it ungracefully.

“What is this place?” He asked, curiosity burning. 

“Room of requirement. Here,” Westley started pulling a bunch of wrapped parcels from his bag, handing some to Cove and placing others down on the coffee table. “We’ve got all sorts of stuff, eat whatever you want. Have you ever seen Mamma Mia ?”

“Uh, no?”

“Absolutely criminal. You’ll love it, darling, I promise.” Westley pulled out a portable DVD player next, setting it in the center of the low table. His bag had to be magical, his arm disappearing halfway up to his bicep as he searched for something else. He pulled out his arm with an aha! , a large, fluffy grey blanket gripped in his hand. “The Room can do blankets and stuff, but this is the softest one I’ve ever felt, and I wasn’t sure if I could ask for it specifically or if the Room just generates whatever. I’ve always just brought it with me, but anyway, not important,” he unfurled the blanket as he spoke, laying it over Cove’s lap before diving back into his bag, “you’re probably freezing, California is pretty warm, right? Warmer than Scotland will ever get, at least. My moms actually used to live there, that’s where they met. Mom’s family had moved to the states when Wizarding England was still, well, falling apart under a tyrannical psychopath. Then after everything was finally done with, when Lizzie and I were still babies, Mom was offered the Potions professor position here and we moved.” 

A hoodie was pulled out of the bag next, the same plain black as the one Westley was wearing but without the zipper. It was huge , and although it probably fit fine around Westley’s broader frame - if a little loose - there was no way it wouldn’t drown Cove in fabric. Westley passed it to him, never breaking the constant stream of chatter, and Cove took it, bewildered. 

Westley’s one sided conversation had come back around as he rambled on about jukebox musicals and how Mamma Mia was the exception to the rule. The DVD player was set up, open on the coffee table with the menu select screen casting a faint blue glow along the room to join the warm oranges of the fire. The larger boy finally sat down next to Cove, seemingly done fidgeting with everything, and pressed play. 

"Better?” He asked, turning to Cove. 

Cove thought about it for a moment. The room was cozy and quiet save for the beginnings of the movie's opening number and their soft breathing. The food that had been handed to him and placed around the DVD player included sandwiches and fries, baked goods and random side dishes; haphazard and not really a meal, but a good spread nonetheless. Westley sat close to him like he had on the train, head tilted towards him and gaze bright with concern. The light from the fireplace danced in his eyes, and Cove was briefly fascinated by the way it caught on the eyeliner that he had incorrectly assumed was plain black. It sparkled lightly, silver shimmering as Westley blinked. 

“Yeah,” he decided with a content sigh. It really was better. Deciding to be bold, he pulled the robes off his shoulders and quickly hid his blushing face by throwing on the hoodie. It was incredibly soft, engulfing him in the scent of lavender detergent and spicy cologne. Westley let out a chuckle beside him and pulled at the back of the hood, bringing it out of Cove’s eyes. “Thank you.” Cove whispered. He didn’t fight the smile breaking across his face. 

They settled in, eating and laughing and only half paying attention to the movie, too busy goofing off. Hours later and three movies into Westley’s extensive musical collection, they finally left the room. Cove was still in the too big hoodie, Westley's blanket around his shoulders. 

He wasn’t cold anymore - hadn’t been since Westley had wrapped a large arm around his shoulders after replacing Mamma Mia with Hairspray - but he kept them regardless. Westley hadn’t asked for them back, and he was soaking in the warmth and smell before he had to give them back. 

Westley walked him through the quiet halls to the Ravenclaw tower. There was an older student standing in front of the door when they arrived, seemingly arguing with the knocker, and Westley stopped them around the corner. 

“Would it be okay if I picked you up for breakfast? I can show you where your classes are, make sure you know how to get around.” Westley looked sheepish as he asked, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Or, I mean if you don’t want me to that’s fine we don’t have to hang out again I was just worried about you going to the great hall alone and -”

“Yes please!” Cove squeaked, relief flooding into his bones. 

“Great, great.” Westley’s grin was blinding. “I’ll meet you out here in the morning.”

“Okay,” Cove agreed, “but can we just go to the kitchens then the Room? I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the great hall so soon.”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Westley winced, wrapping an arm around Cove’s waist. Cove pouted without really thinking about it, lower lip jutting out and cheeks puffing, too busy worrying about the impending morning to be flustered by Westley’s hold. He didn’t want to go to the great hall, it was bad enough Chester and Jonathan were probably waiting in the dorm to hound him with questions. “If it were any other day I would have folded immediately, I promise, but we need to go at least long enough for you to get your schedule.” 

Cove directed his pout up at Westley’s sighed reasoning and almost broke immediately. His disappointment probably wasn’t very convincing anymore; Cove was too focused on holding back laughter at the conflicted look on the taller boy's face. Westley looked as if he was trying to solve the trolly problem in real time, nevermind the simple task of telling Cove no. 

“Okay…” He was rewarded for his agreement by Westley pulling him in close, squeezing him in a tight hug that was too short and sudden for Cove to reciprocate. Westley released him slowly, hands lingering on Cove’s waist for a few seconds, before taking a careful step back. 

“Keep the blanket, yeah? And the hoodie, it looks better on you anyway.” 

“T-Till tomorrow?” Cove’s face was bright red. How did Westley just say things like that!?

“Sure. See you in the morning, Cove.”

“See you tomorrow, Westley.”

And then he was gone, walking backwards with his eyes still glued to Cove’s until he was forced to turn around or fall down the stairs. Cove watched broad shoulders descend, then turned around to face the music. 

Westley never did take back the hoodie, or the blanket.

Chapter Text

Westley always liked Christmas, especially at Hogwarts. With his Mom finally taking the position of head of Hufflepuff house when he started his first year, she had to stay at the school with any other students in the house who weren’t going home for the holidays - and there was always at least a couple. So, they started the new tradition of Ma and Lizzie coming on the first day of break; Westley and Mom would meet them in Hogsmeade, and they’d have lunch at the Three Broomsticks before touring around the shops. 

When they finally reached the castle, the sun would be setting and Westley and his sister would split off to let their moms have some quality time. The two would catch up, Lizzie going on about whatever was happening in the muggle world, and Westley would usually fill her in on the Hogwarts gossip. (Last year, however, Westley spent more time talking about Cove than anything else. Lizzie had taken it in stride, thankfully, only teasing him a little bit over his crush.) Christmas Eve would find the two non-magical members of their family stepping through the floo in Mom’s office, then squishing together for the night in Mom’s suite and they’d spend Christmas morning opening presents until they had to leave again. 

This year, however, would prove to break tradition for the first time in six years, in the best of ways. 

Westley was roused by strong hands shaking his shoulders on the Friday the rest of the students were supposed to leave for the holidays. He almost rolled over, beginning the movements to bat away the offending hands when he heard his name in a familiar keening whine. He cracked his eyes open reluctantly with a groan - he had stayed up way too late reading, and his body was sure to let him know it - but shot up when he saw Cove’s tear streaked face above him.

It was dark in the room, moonlight still streaming in through the high windows, but Westley could make out watery aquamarine eyes - brighter than normal, was he not wearing his contacts? - and red cheeks. Cove looked adorably rumpled in dolphin patterned sleep pants and Westley’s too big sweater, hair messy as if he had been pulling on it. His lower lip trembled and Westley quickly reached for his wand, casting a strong silencing charm around his bed just in time for Cove to break into heart wrenching sobs. 

“Shit baby, come here,” Westley rasped, leaning himself back against his headboard and opening his arms. Cove hesitated for a moment, clutching what looked like a crumpled piece of paper to his chest - he always needed an extra second, but Westley was patient. Even as a tight protective heat coiled in his stomach, fingers itching to just pull Cove forward, vow to match his pace be damned - before diving into Westley’s embrace. 

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it out, that’s it. Need help?” Cove shook his head, so he cooed more comforting words and sweet nothings into seafoam hair, rubbing his back and resisting the urge to hound his best friend for answers. Clearly he wasn’t panicking, just needed a good cry with some company like usual. He focused on brushing the bangs out of Cove’s face instead, letting his hand trace down his temple to cup his cheek. “Take all the time you need, but you have to breathe. Can you do that for me please?” Cove sucked in a deep, stuttering breath before letting it out with a woosh . “Amazing, thank you. You’re doing so good, love. Can you do it again?” Westley did it with him this time, the two of them breathing together while Cove soaked his shirt with tears. 

Eventually Cove calmed down. Westley wasn’t sure what time it was - it felt like days had passed but he knew it couldn’t have been more than an hour - but his only roommate Robert was presumably still asleep, and the sun had yet to begin illuminating the room. Cove was leaning heavily against him on the bed, long legs awkwardly curled up in Westley’s lap, sniffling into his shoulder. He had his arms wrapped around Westley’s neck, fingers playing with the worn collar of his shirt.

Westley’s own arms were banded around Cove’s waist, squeezing him tightly. He was worried he was going to hurt him, but when he said as much and tried to loosen his hold, Cove let out a wordless whine that broke into another round of sobs. Westley pulled him back in somehow tighter, whispering sorry, it’s okay, I’m right here into his hair, lips so close he was practically kissing the seafoam strands. 

“I’m sorry.” Cove whispered a few minutes later, leaning back to look at Westley. “I tried to just deal with it myself, but I needed you - to, to talk to you” his friend’s face flushed bright red at the slip, but Westley was too focused on the fresh tears spilling over to think about it. He wiped at the stains on Cove's cheeks, waiting for him to continue, “and I thought… well, you can probably guess what I thought.” He trailed off, arms slipping away from Westley’s neck. Cove held the crumpled paper in his lap, and Westley could make out a tight but neat script on the page. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re always welcome here.” Westley reassured, letting his hand fall back to Cove’s waist. “Is that the letter from your mom?” He had seen Cove receive it at dinner earlier that night, tucking it away in his robe pocket to read in private.  

“Yeah.” Cove sighed. He glared at the letter, before his shoulders dropped and he looked up at Westley, defeated. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, cheeks blotchy and puffy. He sniffled once, twice, trying to put on a brave face before giving up and crumpling again. “I-I can’t go home for Christmas this year.” 

“ What? ” Westley exclaimed. Cove just held out the letter, unable to speak around his sobs. Westley grabbed his wand again, refreshing the silencing charm and then lighting the tip to read. He skipped through the pleasantries and life updates - it felt like encroaching on Cove’s privacy to read his mother’s words - until he reached about half-way through. 

Sorry, Cove. I’m still half-way through the move to Nevada for work, and I haven’t settled yet. I don’t have anywhere for you to stay. You’ll have to hang with your dad this year.

The rest of the letter went on to promise better for next year, but Westley set it and his wand aside to bring Cove close again. His friend had been so excited to go back to the States for the break. He had told Westley about California so many times, describing the beach and his mom, and promising to bring him back more shells for his growing collection. (Something that wouldn’t even exist without Cove in the first place. He had brought Westley back shells last winter break, and again after the Easter and summer hols. Westley was convinced it was some kind of weird surfer dude mating ritual, although he didn’t want to get his hopes up. But, the shells were pretty, and when he was missing Cove during the breaks they helped ease the familiar sting in his heart.) Westley couldn’t begin to imagine how crushed he must be, knowing his mother had moved away from California, and that he wouldn’t be seeing her at all.

“I’m so sorry honey. Are you going to stay with your dad instead?”

“No.” Yeah, that was the expected reaction when it came to Holden Senior. “I don’t want to see him.”

“Well,” Westley tried not to feel too happy as he came to a realization. “You could stay here, with me.”

“What?”

“Robby is going home tomorrow - well, today - and the only other person in the dorms will be one of the sixth year girls Maria and a couple seventh years that will be too worried about their N.E.W.Ts to care that you’re here.” Westley cupped Cove’s face. “You can stay in one of the extra beds, and I’ll spend the night here Christmas Eve instead of in Mom’s chambers. They’ll understand - honestly they’ll probably appreciate the extra space.”

Cove looked conflicted. He pulled away from Westley, shuffling to the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to interrupt your Christmas Westley-”

He was cut off when Westley grabbed him by the hips, bodily lifting him to sit properly in his lap. Cove let out a squeak and his face flushed brightly at the manhandling, but Westley had to make sure he understood.

“You wouldn’t be interrupting anything, Covey, I promise.” He held Cove’s face again, grey gaze boring into aquamarine as he pressed their foreheads together. “Please darling, say you’ll stay with me.”

If Cove were in a cartoon, steam would be escaping his ears with how red he was. But he gave Westley a jerky nod, and the older of the two was barely awake enough to hold back the kiss he so desperately wanted to press to chapped lips. He settled for brushing his nose against Cove’s, letting go of his soft face to rub his back. He leaned away to give Cove some room to breathe. 

“Thank you,” Westley sighed. “Do you want to go back to your dorm or stay here for a bit?”

Cove peered up at him through his lashes. “Stay, please.”

“Course.” Westley slid Cove into the space next to him, giving him another tight full body squeeze before letting him go. 

Cove buried his red face in his hands, muttering oh my god over and over in a high pitched squeak. Westley just chuckled, letting Cove sort through his feelings. He was exhausted, but pushed through it to pick up his wand and set off a small ball of light floating above their heads. He ruffled through his bedside table, grabbing some parchment and a pen he smuggled in, and wrote his Mom a quick note to explain what had happened. He kept it brief - Cove is staying for the hols. I’ll explain at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow, don’t wait up. Wes - before folding it, muttering a soft spell while waving his wand, and let it go. 

Cove was still bright red, but he was peeking at the paper airplane through his fingers as it did a flip in the air, then darted out around the curtains. Once it was gone he hid away again, but let Westley sling an arm around his shoulders. After being woken in the middle of the night and dealing with all the emotions that came from having a crybaby as a best friend, Westley was ready to sleep until Christmas. He let his eyes slip closed, leaning his head down to take in orange scented shampoo and the sea salt that clung to Cove despite it being months since he had been in the sea, intent on dozing until Cove was ready to talk. 

He woke up the second time to sunlight casting a pink hue through his eyelids, his mouth dry, body way too hot . He smacked his lips, shifting in an attempt to get the crink out of his neck. Why was he slumped on his side against the headboard like that? 

Seafoam immediately caught his attention when he finally opened his eyes. Westley slowly looked down, and sure enough the solid weight pressed against his front was none other than Cove Holden. 

His face was smooshed into Westley’s chest, mouth slightly open and a small trickle of drool drying on his chin. His face was still puffy and red, dark bags under his eyes. Cove's arms were tucked in close to his chest and his fingers tangled in Westley's sleep shirt, twitching against the fabric in time with soft breaths.

He was the most beautiful thing Westley had ever seen. 

He marveled at the sight and his hold tightened around Cove instinctively. Their legs were separated due to Cove still laying on top of the blankets instead of under them, and Westley couldn’t feel his right arm, but his left was across Cove’s waist. It fit perfectly in the divot between his ribs and hip, his forearm resting on the mattress pressed along the length of Cove’s spine. Soft hair was splayed out across Westley’s numb arm-turned-pillow, his hand hanging off the bed.

(If Westley ever needed a reason to keep training as a beater despite generally favoring playing keeper, - beyond the simple fact that hitting things with a bat was fun - the image of Cove’s head fitting perfectly on his bicep would be more than enough motivation.)

He never wanted to move again. Wished he could stay in this moment forever, warm and comfy and calm, the world waiting for them to be ready. He could keep Cove tucked away in his arms, fulfilling his purpose on this Earth by shielding him and loving him for the rest of time. Keep him safe from impulsive parents and overwhelming crowds; ensure the only tears Westley had to wipe from his eyes were happy ones.

He was doing a very bad job of hiding his crush, he was aware. There was no way Cove didn’t already know he was head over heels in love with him. The rest of the student body had caught on, if all the teasing Westley had been enduring over the last year was anything to go by. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but his first reaction had been to lash out; upper lip curling and sharp retorts ready to be thrown. But, the jeering seemed friendly - nothing truly harmful said about either of them - and no one was doing it around Cove, so he let it be. 

It was kind of nice, having everyone know. No one flirted with Cove or professed their adoration - at least, not when he was around - even though Westley had heard multiple groups of girls fawning over his American accent and swimmers' build. Most people assumed they were already dating, and Westley didn’t exactly do much to correct them.

Westley forced himself back into the present. He already knew he would give anything to have this last, but he also knew it couldn’t happen. Now it was just a question of what the hell to do . 

Two things were true at that moment. The first was that Westley did not possess the strength of will to interrupt Cove’s sleep, even if they needed to get up for the day. He had no idea what time it was, and his moms and sister would be waiting for him at the Broomsticks. If Westley crossed the threshold any later than twelve noon on the dot because he was held up snuggling with Cove fucking Holden , the women in his life would never let him forget it. 

The second truth was that Cove was absolutely going to freak the fuck out when he woke up. He was generally okay with being close - Westley always having an arm wrapped around him or his hand in a tight, calloused grip without protest - but something about beds specifically and lying down in general sent the poor boy reeling. They had at least fallen asleep together before, slumped on sofas or curled up in armchairs, but they had always woken up later either still sitting up against one another, or with Cove spread eagle on the floor. 

They’d never woken up like this. Pressed together and lying down, in Westley’s bed .

Westley was weighing the pros and cons of staying in said bed for a few more precious moments (Pro: see the last 10 minutes of lovesick rambling. Con: it might make Cove cry. Why, he didn’t really know yet, but it wasn’t like the king of the crybabies needed a reason. Regardless, if he ever brought Cove to tears for any reason other than happiness or laughter, Westley would throw himself off the Astronomy tower. It was the only appropriate punishment for such a horrendous crime) when Cove inhaled deeply in his arms, eyelids fluttering. Westley panicked, closing his own eyes to feign sleep, the decision made for him.

Soft, raspy oh my gods were whispered into his chest, Cove stone stiff. “Please don’t be awake,” he begged, and Westley was instantly validated in his completely intentional choice. He felt Cove’s head shift on his arm, a pointed chin bumping slightly against his pecs. Cove stilled again, but this time he relaxed slightly, muscles in his back uncoiling against Westley’s arm. 

“ Oh,” he breathed against Westley’s neck, sounding almost mesmerized. “Oh shit. Oh fuck, oh my god. ”

Helga Hufflepuff’s sweet tits, Cove was going to send him into cardiac arrest. The younger boy never swore, not even the silly exclamations most of Hogwarts had adopted. But here he was, in Westley’s bed, dropping not one but two curses right after the other. He knew he should be prioritizing Cove’s comfort at this moment, but his mind had already thrown itself over the railing, landing deep in the gutter. 

The words replayed in his head, Cove’s voice still breathy and whining, but now he was saying them from beneath Westley. Images of Cove that Westley had seen in his dreams more times than he was proud of flashed through his mind - flushed down to his neck, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes, pretty lips bruised and swollen, long, slim legs wrapped tight around Westley’s waist - and he quickly ushered the thoughts away, replacing them with visions of Charleston’s ugly mug and the mean, scrawny bowl cut kid that Westley wanted to hurl into the lake.

Merlin, he was an asshole. This poor, sweet boy had come to him devastated, seeking comfort and a shoulder to cry on, and here Westley was taking advantage of him. Reveling in affection that was not given with permission, fantasizing about ravaging him when he should be pulling away, giving him space to breathe.

But Westley was weak, and he was still a coward. He had dreamed of having Cove in his bed more times than he could count, only to wake up cold and alone. So he remained where he was, savoring the feeling of finally having the love of his life where he belonged. 

Cove stayed still for a few more seconds - Westley needed to know what was going through that spacey brain - before gently extricating himself from muscled arms, movements only slightly jerky. Westley let his arm slide off Cove’s waist without a fight. The bed dipped as Cove swung his legs over the side, and Westley expected to hear the creak of the springs as he rose, curtains opening with a swish and the thud of the door closing.

Instead, he was met with silence. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on relaxing his face and breathing. One of Cove’s hands shakily ran through his hair, smoothing it off his forehead. His thumb traced unsteadily between Westley’s brows, down his nose and across his cheek until slim fingers cupped his jaw. He felt a puff of breath against his temple, chapped lips chasing it.

“Thank you, Westley. See you tomorrow.” Cove mumbled against his hairline. Then he was gone, warmth leaving Westley in a rush, the door closing with just loud enough of a bang to rouse him if he had actually still been asleep.

It was really just a brush of skin against skin, only a kiss on technicality, but Westley considered it one nonetheless. His eyes snapped open, and he curled in on himself on the bed, snatching up his pillow and letting a high pitched - and very manly - squeal loose into it. He kicked his feet, channeling the urge to chase Cove down and smooch him properly into crushing the pillow.

He twisted around to cast a quick glance at his watch on his bedside table, jerking upright when he realized the time. He had at most half an hour before his lovely family would send out a search party, so he jumped out of bed and to his trunk, pulling out warm clothing for the walk into town. 

Cove was aware of his plans for the day, and would no doubt need time to recover, so he rushed from the castle without trying to hunt him down first. He had a lot to explain - his ma and Lizzie were incredibly invested in their relationship, always getting on his ass about not writing to them fast enough with updates, hounding him to confess - and he had a feeling his nosy family would ask hours worth of questions. 

By the time he made it to the restaurant - one minute before noon, snow soaking into his boots and shivering more than usual because Cove still had his warmest sweater and Westley was stuck wearing his threadbare spare - his lovesick grin had yet to drop from his face. 

~~~

Christmas break with Westley at Hogwarts was amazing, in Cove’s opinion. It was somehow unlike anything Cove had experienced before, yet also exactly how he expected it to be. He had properly met Westley’s Ma Noelani, a lovely, soft spoken woman that was a perfect balance to Pamela’s gregarious demeanor, and his older sister Elizabeth whose teasing tone and knowing grin gave Cove a bad feeling. The three most important women in Westley’s life had taken one look at Cove after coming back from lunch on Friday - their cheeks red from their walk in the winter air, his because they had met him while he was hunched over in the library, trying to work through his thoughts and feelings while swallowed in Westley’s hoodie and sweatpants - and decided he was theirs to keep.

He woke up days later with the sun, bright eyed and bushy tailed even though he and Westley had stayed up far too late into the night talking. They had laid down (in separate beds, Cove having claimed the one to the left of Westley’s for the two week break. Cove was a bit disappointed, but mostly grateful. As much as he liked the idea of being that close to Westley again, of waking up in his thick arms, held close like he was something precious, Cove knew his limits) facing each other on their sides and laughing long into the night. 

Cove didn’t even spare the pile of presents on the end of his bed a second glance. He jumped up instead, closing the small gap between his bed and Westley’s. He propped a knee on the other’s mattress, leaning forward to begin the process of trying to rouse his best friend who was still passed out on his side, facing Cove. He grabbed onto a broad shoulder and gave it a shake, calling out. 

“Westley, cmon, get up! It’s Christmas!” He shook the larger boy again, causing a wrinkle to form between thick, purple brows and his lip to curl. “Pleeeeease Wes, I wanna open presents!” He begged, aiming for the same tone that always had Westley tripping over himself to give him what he wanted. 

Large, hot hands wrapped around his hips. They squeezed tightly, grip bordering on bruising, cutting him off with a squeak and sending searing heat through the fabric of his sleep pants. (Okay they weren’t his sleep pants, not entirely anyway. The little broomsticks and quaffles decorating the soft cotton were proof enough of their official owner.) Westley used his hold to bodily pull Cove with him as he rolled over onto his other side, tucking the thinner boy into his front within seconds. Cove was getting used to the manhandling - it felt insane that Cove had somehow befriended the one guy at Hogwarts who could throw him around like a couple of grapes despite his height - but his friend had never been so rough with him before, nor so forward. 

And this was Westley of all people. The fact that he had managed to do something Cove considered forward was impressive after how he’d treated Cove since day one. 

“Shh, sleepy time,” Westley slurred, voice rumbling in his chest. Cove’s brain was melting from the flush that had engulfed his face and neck. One of Westley’s arms was pinned beneath him, curling up along the small of his back so he could grip Cove’s hip with the same intensity as before. The other pressed along his spine, a broad palm caressing the base of his skull while thick fingers scratched lazily against his scalp. It felt wonderful, tingles shooting down Cove’s spine as he released a soft hum.

He stiffened again when his brain caught back up and reluctantly made to push Westley’s shoulders back, intent on scrambling away before he could combust on the spot. The hand in his hair trailed down to hold his face, and he froze when he saw grey eyes looking at him. They had never been so close before, not even when Cove had woken up in his arms less than a week ago. Just like then, the hard line of Westley’s body was pressed against his, nothing but the blanket and their clothes between them, warmth seeping into Cove’s bones. Except now, they were face to face. At least then his head had been at Westley’s chest, not his face! His stupid, handsome, perfect face.

Westley’s gaze was heavily lidded, only the slightest sliver of mercury to be seen. His friend was clearly still more asleep than awake, unfocused and clumsy as he pressed their foreheads together. 

“Baby -” Westley's jaw cracked with a large yawn, head tilting back with the force of it. Cove always melted when he called him sweet names, and this time was no different. Westley’s eyes were closed again when he nuzzled his nose into Cove’s cheek. “Settle, darling. Just for another hour, then presents. Promise.”

Cove let out a whine, hands frozen on Westley’s shoulders. Westley's grip stayed firm but he didn’t say anything else and Cove figured he had passed out again, just like that. He was quickly proven wrong when Westley moved again - eyes still closed - and thick, plush lips pressed against his mouth. 

Westley kissed him incredibly softly. Cove went ramrod straight in his shock, muscles tense and coiled, eyes wide. Westley’s lips moved against his, hand squeezing his hip and fingers caressing his cheek. Cove melted into it, eyelids fluttering closed as instincts buried any rational panic before it could take over. The hand on his cheek went back to his hair, Westley’s long fingers sinking into the strands to pull him closer. Cove was shifted from his side to his back, the rough way Westley had treated him just a minute ago replaced by gentle guiding motions as their lips never parted. 

The little voice in Cove’s head was screaming at him, thrashing around inside his mind and tearing the place apart. It insulted him, admonishing his behavior as it asked him what the hell he was thinking. But, as his fingers drifted down and tightened around the thick muscle of Westley’s biceps, his best friend’s broad hands squeezing his hip and cupping his head so gently, he found himself breathing evenly as they were suddenly pushed away. Westley let out musical little hums and sighs, always so expressive, always talking , and they chased away any bad thoughts or panicked instincts before they could take root. 

With his mind clear for a few blissful seconds, he finally registered the familiar pattern being squeezed into his hip. Westley would grip him - tight and attention grabbing but still incredibly gentle - for four seconds, then ease the pressure and soothe the skin with his thumb for seven, before squeezing again for eight. He repeated this over and over again, Cove’s lungs subconsciously following along.

Cove wasn’t able to stop the tears that collected in his eyes, spilling over and into their kiss. Because of course Westley would kiss like this. So sweet and gentle and considerate, running through their Cry Baby routine even when focused on pleasure. 

Cove had come to the realization that he wanted to kiss Westley days ago, in this very bed, gazing at his sleeping form. When he had opened his eyes to a broad chest and muscled arms holding him tight, Cove had never felt safer. Seeing Westley’s handsome face above him, eyes closed and jaw slack, neck bent uncomfortably, had sent Cove’s heart racing. He had panicked at first - not freaked out, full on panicked - until it had been washed away by one thought.

I love you.

Cove had fully stopped working, swears falling from his lips. Westley’s foul mouth had rubbed off on him more than he liked to admit. He had moved away after his revelation - not Westley’s bad influence, the fact that he was in love with said bad influence - but was stopped by another intrusive thought, equally devastating, as he sat on Westley’s bed. He had stared at his sleeping face, two words playing over and over. 

Kiss him.

And it sure said something about Westley that Cove had acted on it, even if it was a pretty pitiful first attempt. 

Now, though, Westley felt amazing above him. His weight pressed solidly into Cove’s chest, hands soft but grounding where they gripped him, movements slow and unhurried but burning with intensity. He seemed to be waking up more and more with each passing second, kisses getting firmer and tongue reaching out to swipe boldly against Cove’s lower lip. The motion ripped a moan from deep in Cove’s throat - a sound he had never made before - piercing through the peaceful silence in the room. 

Westley pulled barely an inch away from his mouth, eyes heavily lidded but at least open again. His gaze was molten mercury, focused only on Cove’s, lashes dark and heavy. “Fuck, you sound amazing.” Westley’s words were still slurred, voice deep and gravely. He closed the gap again, pressing a searing kiss to shock slack lips. “Love your voice sweetheart, so much. Say my name baby, please.” His head ducked down as he spoke, and Cove let out a strangled gasp when lips latched onto the column of his throat. 

“Westley! ” He yelled, but instead of the breathy moan Westley was probably hoping for, it came out as a terrified sounding shriek.

Westley was off him instantly, movements panicked and jerky, practically falling over himself as he scrambled out of bed. He stumbled a few steps towards the bed Cove had been sleeping in since the start of the break.

“Cove?!” Westley exclaimed, voice going high with panic as he took in the empty mattress, blankets tossed aside haphazardly. “Darling where are you?”

If it were under any other circumstances, Cove would’ve laughed. 

Westley was usually so clever. He was quick to soak up knowledge and his memory was incredibly impressive, always spitting out facts to Cove whenever they came to mind. He experimented with charms and muggle tech, played a variety of sports from competitive wizarding chess (which Cove didn’t really consider a sport, but what did he know) to muggle rugby, and spoke three languages. He could follow Cove’s rambles about intricate runes, recommend source books for Cove’s essays off the top of his head, and if he actually gave a damn about doing his homework there was a good chance he'd be at the top of the class in certain subjects.

So yes, his Westley was incredibly smart at first glance. What most people didn’t know - along with a long list of other things that only Cove was privy to, including but not limited to; his crippling addiction to Sriracha, his infatuation with the corniest romance novels Cove had ever seen, and his often brushed off talent with charcoals - is that without the all powerful drug known as caffeine, Westley was absolutely, completely, useless . 

Cove watched him flounder for a few moments, bewildered. His face was still burning, heart pounding in his chest, and he was having a hard time breathing. Now that Westley was gone, intoxicating taste and smell and touch and warmth gone with him, the panic was starting to creep back in.

Westley dropped down on all fours, face pressed against the carpet, to look under Cove's bed, and the younger knew this would go on for hours if he didn’t say something. 

“Wes,” he gasped, finally sitting up. Westley popped up and gave him a bright, if confused, grin. 

“Cove!” His head tilted as he rose, hair flopping with the motion. Cove could feel his lower lip begging to tremble, the familiar sting of tears burning his eyes, and Westley’s grin dropped into his usual comforting smile. “Hey now, no tears darling. What are you doing, crying on Christmas, huh love?” He reached out to Cove, but the smaller of the two flinched away and gave his head a violent shake. Cove scrambled off the mattress with a strangled sob, putting some much needed space between them as he pressed himself up against the wall across the bed. 

Westley looked like a kicked puppy, left behind with one knee on the bed. He gaped at Cove with round, concerned eyes, and for the first time since meeting him Cove could see tears collecting in the corners. His expression was pure devastation, as if his whole world had fallen apart right then and there. 

“Hey, hey. It - it's okay.” Westley stuttered through his placating words, hands held out in front of him as if Cove was a wild animal he was trying to calm. “I did something, didn’t I?”

See, so clever. Even if Cove could do without the self deprecating tone. He nodded once with a sniffle - it was true , Westley had been the cause of this - but immediately shook it forcefully when he saw the tears begin to spill down Westley’s cheeks. His friend came around the bed, wiping at his eyes roughly. He always cleared Cove’s face so gently, it was odd to see the gesture warped on his own face, fingers digging into his naturally tanned cheeks. 

“I am so, so sorry Cove.” He stopped a few feet away, arms tucked at his sides. Cove appreciated the space - he knew he was spiraling, and he was way too overwhelmed in this moment to be close to the other boy. His skin still tingled where Westley had held him, nerves buzzing and his pulse racing. “Whatever it is, I’ll never do it again, I promise. But, can you at least tell me what happened? One minute I’m having the best dream I’ve ever had, and the next you’re yelling for me! I thought you were hurt -” Westley cut himself off abruptly. He looked at Cove, sleep-addled brain finally processing his rumpled clothes and swollen lips, the faint mark Westley had started to suck into his skin tingling when grey eyes landed on it.

“Merlin's great hairy tits I was just dreaming, right Cove?” Westley looked terrified, eyes wide and hands shaking. He took an aborted step forward, then two scrambling ones back. “Right, Cove?” When Cove just stared at him, having to prioritize relearning how to breathe, he broke.

“Please, honey, tell me what you need. I-I don’t want to leave you but I don’t think you want me to stay.” Westley’s voice cracked, tears spilling from his eyes. “Fuck baby I’m so sorry please, just - just tell me what to do. I-I don’t, I dont know what to do. ”

Westley closed his eyes and took in deep heaving breaths, wide chest expanding and shaking. He shuddered as he exhaled, and brought a hand up to his collarbone to tap out a slow rhythm. Cove instinctively started to breathe in time. The buzzing started to fade, nerves calming and breathing steadying, but Cove still felt wired. Westley has asked him for something, asked for help, but Cove couldn’t bring himself to speak.

When Westley opened his eyes, mercury was still obscured by tears, but they had at least stopped falling. He nodded once, twice, then met Cove's gaze.

“Send me away and I'll go, I promise. But not until you tell me to. Yell at me, scream, hit me if you want to. But I can't go unless you send me away, Cove. I need to hear you say it, I won't leave you alone unless that's what you want.”

God, Westley was so nice . Nice and big and dumb and perfect . Cove loved him so much it hurt. He wanted Westley so badly, wanted to kiss him and hold him and call him his . But there was something nagging at the back of his mind, a petty question that Cove already knew the answer to and shouldn't be asking but he couldn't help it. He had to know.

“ Who ?” He gasped through tears. 

“ What ?” Westley looked at him like he was deranged.

“Who were you dreaming about?!” Cove finally let out. Because there was no way. There was absolutely no way that Westley liked him back.

Cove had understood, logically, that he had a crush on Westley since he met him. But the feelings never really sank in, it never really clicked what that would mean, how that would feel as the emotions grew and they got to know each other. Then, when it finally did - on that Friday morning when he had realized he wanted to kiss his best friend, was in love with his best friend - Cove couldn't think straight for days. He still couldn’t fully settle around Westley, especially with how close the other boy always liked to be.

And that was the problem. Westley was always like this. He’d been touchy and sweet on Cove since day one, calling him names and holding him close; comforting him and taking care of him in a thousand tiny ways. He was always so - and Cove knew he was over using the word but it just fit Westley so well - nice.  

Surely if he had developed feelings for Cove, something would have changed. Right? 

Because Cove had changed. He had changed so much in such a short amount of time, and it was terrifying . He was still the same, in a lot of ways. Still blunt and stubborn and a crybaby, still easily irritated and quick to blush.

The difference was, up until that moment on the train, before he met Westley, Cove had been all of those things and sad. Sad, and angry, and numb. He felt like he’d never be okay again, that he would be alone forever.

Now, after Westley, he was all of those things and happy. In just over a year, this person had forced himself into Cove’s life and changed it so fundamentally that without him, Cove wouldn't be Cove anymore. Westley accepted him for who he was then, supported him now, and would forever be a part of Cove as he grew.

God, Westley was always like that , - perfect and comforting and just being the best friend Cove could have ever asked for - and Cove was always like this . Overthinking and freaking out over something unimportant when he should be running into Westley’s arms, wiping away his tears and that kicked puppy look on his face. His violet hair had drooped at Cove’s question, his whole body sagging with it, and Westley looked at him now with beautiful eyes sad and confused. 

Cove wants to run, to sprint forward at full tilt until there’s no space left between but he can’t. He can’t, because Westley had said a lot of things in that heated moment, but none of them had been Cove's name. Westley could have been thinking about anyone, like. Like… 

“You!” His best friend cried out, hands flinging to gesture in Cove’s direction. “Only you, Cove. Who else?” 

And that was the question Cove was stuck on. Because now that he thought about it, actually really thought about it instead of just being scared of the potential answer, there wasn’t anyone else. 

Westley was always with Cove. He spoke kindly to his teachers, got along with other students, said hi to his teammates and didn’t literally spend every second with Cove (no matter how much Cove wished that were true), but he didn’t latch onto anyone like he did with Cove. He didn’t use any of the many pet names he peppered the smaller boy with, barely referred to people by anything other than their family name. Hell, the only people Westley talked to frequently other than Cove were Chester - who mostly just antagonized Westley until he got a reaction - and Jeremy, a tiny little Slytherin a year below them who had earned Westley’s eternal hatred when he had insulted Cove within minutes of meeting him.

(Jeremy and Westley had almost gotten into a duel in the middle of the hall a week before the end of fifth year. Jeremy had started spouting insults at Cove, harmless little words that Cove had heard a hundred times before; but Westley had been especially overprotective that day, raw from their impending separation due to summer break, and already in a bad mood. It got to the point where Westley had thrown his wand to the side, frustrated at the anti-jinx wards in the hallways fizzling out the hexes aimed to silence Jeremy, and lunged towards the spindly boy. 

Cove had darted forward, and thankfully Westley’s keeper reflexes had kept him from bowling him over, but it had been close. That had gotten him a long lecture about self preservation, Westley shaking him by the shoulders on the walk back to the room of requirement and going on about how if he ever hurt Cove he would hurl himself into the Black Lake. But Cove had retorted that if Westley got himself expelled and left him behind, Cove was gonna throw him into the lake, and that had gotten the big idiot to finally shut up and understand the potential consequences to his actions.

Cove had told him later, side by side watching Toy Story on Westley’s portable DVD player, that he would’ve liked to see Westley do it, even if it was a dumb idea. Westley had looked so pleased with himself, Cove was worried he was about to hunt Jeremy down and finish the job, if only to hear Cove praise him again.)

The dam broke, and Cove fully sobbed as he held out his arms, stepping forward. He opened and closed his hands, fingers smacking against his palms, and cried out “ c-come here!”

Westley closed the distance between them with two large steps. He wrapped his arms around Cove and pulled him in close, one hand coming to grip the back of his head and pull him into Westley’s neck. Cove fell into him, hands coming up to twist into the back of his sleep shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Cove. I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll never do it again.” Westley's grip tightened and Cove let out a huff of breath when his ribs creaked. “Merlin, are you okay?” Westley shot back, hands moving to hold Cove’s shoulders. His gaze caught on Cove’s lips, and Cove watched with wonder as Westley’s face turned red. “Shit I fucking mauled you. Are you alright?!” Despite his voice rising in panic, Westley’s hold stayed gentle this time. Cove nodded and tried to lean back in, desperate for that familiar weight to soothe him, but Westley held him at arm’s length. Cove’s hands hung uselessly at his sides and he gave a distressed whine.

“Fuck I’m the worst friend in the world. I am so sorry Cove.” Cove immediately shook his head, and Westley raised a hand to cup his cheek, stilling his movement. “No, I am. Look at you, look at what I did to you.” He rubbed the tears on Cove’s cheek pointedly.

“You-” Cove’s voice caught on a hiccup, and he stuttered in a few more breaths before pushing through. “You’re not a b-bad friend, Wes-Westley.”

“I am. I am and I am so sorry. I tried so hard, tried to go slow and push everything down and I still fucked it all up .” Both of Westley’s hands were gripping his face now, hold shaky but gentle. Cove brought his hands up to loop around his wrists, squeezing lightly once. 

“Why?” Cove whispered. He didn’t know which question to ask, dozens of them fighting for the right to be answered. Why do you dream about kissing me? Why do you look so scared? Why do you think you messed up? Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye? 

Westley looked at him for a moment, then he let out a large sigh and slumped like a puppet with its strings cut. “I love you Cove, I love you so much. I’ve been crushing on you since we met, and I know you’re not ready, and you probably don’t feel the same, and I’m sorry if I pushed too hard. I couldn’t help it, I lost all self control around you, any sense of logic thrown out the window. I had to touch you, had to be close to you. Couldn’t stand the idea of not having you in my sight, and I still feel that way, still can’t control myself. Having to leave your side every night kills me Covey. Absolutely destroys me, but I promised myself, promised you that I would go at your pace. That I would wait forever if I had to, that I would stay true to you and be there without taking advantage or pressuring you and I did it anyway .”

Westley was fully sobbing again, but he kept talking, the words falling from his mouth seemingly against his will. “Again and again, and now I’ve pushed you to a panic attack. I made you cry . I held you down and hurt you, touched you without permission and I am so, so sorry Cove. I never - I never ever wanna hurt you, never.

“You don’t have to love me back. I swear, it’s okay. Nothing has to change, I will always, always be your friend first, okay? If - if I…” Westley finally paused, licking his lips. Cove was still trying to get over I love you, Westley’s words washing over him. He was processing what the other boy was saying - slowly, but it was happening - and he didn’t like what he was hearing. Westley didn’t hurt him. Startled him? Yes. Overwhelmed him? Definitely. Hurt him? Took advantage of him? Cove wasn’t sure Westley was even capable of doing so. “I won’t touch you anymore, and I won’t call you names, and I’ll stop taking up all your time. Just please don’t hate me, Cove. I don’t think I’d survive.” Westley’s voice had fallen to a whisper, cracking on Cove’s name. 

Oh this big dumb boy. He thought Cove hated him?

Tears were still streaming down their faces, but he ignored them in favor of finally breaking Westley’s hold to instead crash into his arms. Cove threw his own around Westley’s neck, hands threading through thick violet hair, and brought their mouths back together. 

His best friend wrapped strong arms around his back, leaning down slightly to engulf Cove in his embrace. Westley melted into the kiss, holding their lips together gently before pulling away, only to repeat the motion again and again, each one softer than the last. His lips wandered away from Cove’s to his jaw, and Cove took the chance to speak. 

“I don’t hate you, could never hate you Westley. “ His fingers clenched in Westley’s hair, tugging him back to make him look Cove in the eye. Westley let out a whine - deep and throaty and if Cove wasn’t so focused on reassuring him he’d probably melt into a puddle of goo at the sound -  but let Cove pull him away. His face was flushed, eyes glazed over, freckles standing out against tear stained skin. His violet hair was as unruly as always but for some reason the sight of it now, combined with Westley’s slack jaw and mercury eyes sparking with something, made Cove’s stomach do flips. How was he real? Cove had no idea what he was doing, but Westley needed to know, needed to hear what Cove had to say. 

“I love you too, Westley. I only just figured it out properly a few days ago, but I love you. ” 

Cove loosened his hold and let his right hand slide down to Westley’s sharp jaw. “I’m anxious and overwhelmed and I still don’t really know how much I want and how comfortable I am with things, but I don’t hate you Wes, not over this. I want it, want you. You haven’t messed anything up, I promise. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop loving me the perfect way you do.”

Westley rushed forward to kiss him again, an urgent but brief press of their lips together. He leaned his face into Cove’s hand when he pulled away, twisting slightly to press a kiss to Cove’s palm and huff a relieved sigh. He looked at Cove, hearts in his eyes, tears drying on his cheeks, and gave him a small smile. “Does this mean you’ll be mine?”

Cove was nodding before he even processed the words. 

Westley came in close, puppy-like affection replaced with burning steel as his eyes darkened. He held Cove tight, surrounding him with heat and the scent of lavender detergent and the faint remains of his cologne. Their lips were barely an inch apart, and they brushed together when Westley spoke again. 

“Need you to use your words baby. Be mine, Cove. Please?”

“Y-yes,” Cove stuttered. His face was on fire, and if it weren’t for the fact that he needed to see this through, needed to make sure he didn’t mess this up, needed Westley, he’d have darted out of the room. He ran his hands through Westley’s hair again instead, scratching against the spot on his scalp that had grey eyes rolling back. “Westley, please. Please kiss me.”

“As you wish.” Westley’s lips were on his again, the kiss still calm but incredibly heated despite it being a stagnant press of lips. One of Westley’s arms banded below his butt, the other wrapping securely around his back, and lifted him into the air. He swallowed Cove’s surprised squeak, deepening the kiss and stepping forward to gently press his back to the wall. Cove wrapped his legs around Westley’s waist, and was rewarded when a broad hand drifted from his back to clutch at his hip. He gasped, and Westley's tongue brushed against his. 

“I love you so much, Cove.” Westley murmured, a hair's breadth away from his lips. He kissed Cove again. ”Fuck, you taste wonderful.” Another kiss, and Cove’s brain was fuzzing over from the heat. “Can’t believe I get to do this, can’t believe you wanna be mine, darling.” Cove could barely hear what Westley was saying, voice deep and raspy against his lips, rumbling in his broad chest. “Love you, love you, love you. ”

“Love you, Wes, I love you too.” Cove almost jumped when he realized he had also started talking. Westley was chanting against his lips, spellbound and gasping, and Cove’s own warbly whispers had at some point joined in. “So nice, so strong, so perfect. Wanna be yours, yours forever.” He let out a strangled squawk when Westley bucked against him at that, nipping at his bottom lip with a deep moan.

“Shit, sorry. You okay?” Westley asked, finally moving from his mouth to kiss away the tears running down Cove’s cheeks instead, tilting his hips back and lifting Cove higher in his arms. Cove just whined, brain fully turned to mush. His friend - or was he Cove’s boyfriend now? Would Westley even want to be called his boyfriend? All he had said was that he wanted Cove to be his - chuckled, soft kisses tracing down his jaw to his throat. He hummed against Cove’s skin. “What did I say, gorgeous? Need you to use your words. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Cove loved it, he really did, but it was too much. Westley was thick and hot between his legs, the thumb of his left hand creeping under Cove’s t-shirt where he was gripping his hip. He could feel Westley’s heart in his chest, the steady thump thump thump pounding against Cove’s inner thigh. The angle was different from the bed, Westley leaning up into him instead of bearing down, and Cove was drunk on the feeling of teeth grazing the skin of his Adam's apple.

He pulled Westley’s head forcefully away from sucking bruises into this neck with the grip he had in violet hair. Westley had that same dark look in his eyes, but this time he was looking up through his lashes, tongue licking Cove’s sweat from his lips. They were cherry red, curling into a pleased grin that flashed sharp incisors when Cove’s hold tightened.

Oh God. This giant, stupid, hot jock was gonna kill him. 

“Too much.” Cove gasped for breath, letting go to cover his face with his hands. He couldn’t get over the fact that Westley was holding his entire body with one arm, barely putting any weight on Cove against the wall after his earlier enthusiasm, the hand on his hip serving mostly to cage him in. “Down please.” He squeaked.

Westley chuckled, pressing a smiling kiss to Cove’s temple but doing as asked. He spun them around, kneeling on the ground to deposit Cove onto his bed. He stayed close, however, on one knee in between Cove’s legs, their hips pressed together where Cove sat. Cove almost pushed him away, frustrated groan on his lips as his skin began to tingle from oversensitivity, before he realized that he had yet to let the larger boy’s waist go. He let his legs drop, wriggling in Westley’s hold, and muscled arms thankfully released him without a fight. Westley shuffled back slightly, hands coming to hover over Cove’s knees.

“Need help, or do you want me gone?”

“Help, p-please.”

Westley nodded and, permission granted, he rested big hands on Cove’s knees. He started to squeeze and Cove inhaled, stopping when Westley let go, exhaling when he squeezed again. They repeated this process, Westley humming lightly to give Cove something to focus on, perfectly timing out even breaths and applying equal pressure with each squeeze. 

The Cry Baby Routine, in its original form anyway. It was a familiar ritual, one they had developed for when Cove’s tears drove him towards hyperventilating. 

“So,” Cove finally spoke, voice hoarse and cracking. Westley let go of his left knee to reach for a glass of water on the bedside table, and Cove chugged it gratefully before handing it back. “Thanks. So, um.” God, he was always like this. Just ask the question Cove! “Are you, are we… Does this mean I’m your boyfriend?!”

“Well,” Westley gave him a teasing grin, hands rubbing up and down Cove’s calves, squeezing to soothe his tense muscles. “Unless you’ve suddenly developed a habit of making out with people you don’t want to date, yes I suppose it does. Does this mean I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yes!” Cove exclaimed, too excited to be annoyed at the sarcasm. “Yes, please. I-I’d like that.”

Westley’s hands crept up over his knees and squeezed his thighs, a giddy smile taking over his face. “Me too, Covey. Wanna talk about it?”

Cove knew they had to, it was important. Setting boundaries and expectations, making sure they were both on the same page with their feelings, figuring out how to deal with Elizabeth. But right now, Cove is still feeling raw and jittery. He just wants to be close with Westley and calm down fully before having important conversations. 

“Not right now.” He shook his head. Westley just smiled knowingly, squeezing him again. “Has it been an hour yet? I wanna give you your presents.”

“Probably only been 20 minutes at most babe. Think I can convince you to come back to bed with me for a snuggle?” Westley gave him a wink and a salacious smile, voice dropping and eyes zeroing in on Cove’s mouth. Cove could only imagine the expression his face was making, heat searing its way across his nose and cheeks. There was no way in hell he was even close to ready for that yet, even if Westley’s question was technically completely innocent. Westley’s head tossed back with a hearty laugh at Cove’s reaction. “Didn’t think so. Okay okay, calm down, I’m sorry. You look like the Gryffindor common room.”

“I hate you.”

“Uh huh, that's why you just begged me to snog you.”

“Yeah, well…” Cove glared at Westley with all his might, trying to make his brain work past the memory of said snog. “Well, you’re never gonna get to do it again if you keep being mean to me!”

Westley’s cocky grin fell from his lips instantly. “Shit no, I’m sorry baby please forgive me.”

“Mmm, fine. Just this once.” He giggled. 

Westley gave him a smile so soft and tender, it liquified Cove’s bones. He leaned forward, wrapping strong arms around Cove’s waist, and Cove moved with him to rest their foreheads together. His boyfriend was still smiling, but he had a surprisingly serious tone when he spoke again. 

“I know you said we’ll talk later, but there’s something I gotta say now, is that okay?” Cove nodded lightly against him. He had to go a touch cross eyed to meet Westley’s gaze, but he was glad he had when mercury melted tenderly. “I don’t want you to think this is just physical, honey. It’s not. I know it might seem like that, I know I’m real handsy with you and, well, confessing by making out with you in my bed and then against a wall doesn’t exactly send the best message, but I love you. So much, and I love touching you and kissing you and generally clinging to you like a barnacle, but that isn’t why I love you. I do it because I love you.

“My body just gravitates towards you. I can’t control it, I’ve barely been able to keep from kissing you since the day we met. And now that you’re mine, mine to touch and hold and kiss, anytime I want, I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself. But if you want me to stop, or to slow down, or to never touch you again, you have to tell me, okay? I promise you, Cove, it won’t change a thing. I won’t stop loving you just because you need some space. Can you promise me you’ll tell me when I’m too much?”

Tears were falling from Cove’s eyes again, blurring Westley’s face before him. He tried to settle for nodding, already aware that the taller boy would have none of it. 

“Beautiful, if I have to keep reminding you to use your words, I’m gonna have to start calling that big brain of yours into question. Are you sure you’re as smart as I think you are?” Even while teasing, Westley raised his hands to wipe away Cove’s tears.

Cove just rolled his eyes, hiccoughing and gasping. He felt so warm, so loved and cared for and safe.

“P-promise.” He whispered, leaning into Westley’s lips for a lingering peck.

“Hmm, thank you. Now c’mon,” Westley stood, bringing Cove with him, and spun them around once, twice, before setting his bewildered boyfriend on his feet. “Presents!” 

A bright grin split his face, grey eyes shiny and squinting from the force of it. His hands were still around Cove’s waist, fingers sitting perfectly between his ribs and hips, squeezing with the barest amount of pressure. Cove sighed contently, his own grin creeping onto his lips.

“Yeah, presents. Let's go.”

Later, after the sun has already set and Christmas in its waning hours, Cove and Westley will sit squished together in one of the giant armchairs in the Hufflepuff common room, and talk. They’ll talk about everything and nothing, their feelings and wants, expectations and needs. But what they’ll say the most, whispered into lips and skin and the cool air around them, is l love you.

For now, however, Cove has gifts to give. 

Chapter Text

The room was a bit cold despite it finally being summer, nipping at the bare skin of his forearms. The air settled on the sweat beading on the nape of his neck and his forehead, his body doing its best to balance the natural coolness of the castle and the space heater currently taking up half of Westley’s bed. It was very early - the fact that the space heater was still asleep instead of getting antsy was proof enough of that - and Westley reluctantly opened his eyes to see if the sun had risen. 

The room was dim, faint beginnings of sunlight streaming in through the windows. Peeking through his curtain, he could see that the other beds in the dorm were all empty; Robby having presumably snuck into Maria's at some point in the night, his trunk already gone. Westley let out a jaw cracking yawn, not looking forward to having to get up. It was an important day - their final train ride home as Hogwarts students - and he knew he should be excited for it, but Westley also knew the sentimentality of it all was gonna get to his crybaby boyfriend.  

He raised his head properly, angling his body closer and bending his numb right arm up around lithe shoulders in an attempt to get some blood flowing again, using the left to bring Cove in at the waist. His boyfriend was curled up on his side with his back against Wesltey's chest, his hair fanned out across Westley’s bicep and pillow, bright seafoam perfect against white linens and tan skin. He was wearing Westley’s clothes as per usual, the stolen two sizes too big Pearl Jam tee slipping down to show his collarbone, and Westley thumbed against it absent-mindedly as his fingers began to tingle. 

It had taken a very long time to get Cove back in his bed after the first couple times right before they had officially gotten together. He had asked every once in a while over the year and half they had been together, toeing the line to see where Cove sat, and each time was cuter than the last. The younger boy would get bright red in the early months, sputtering and stumbling, and Westley could only tease him for a couple lovely moments before they would be in Cry Baby routine territory. Later on, once they had come back for the start of seventh year, Cove seemed to actually consider the request for longer than a millisecond. He would chew on the chapped skin on his lower lip and rub his scar, peeking up at Westley through a curtain of hair with blue eyes sparkling. 

His gaze would be hot with something , growing warmer and warmer each time Westley teasingly invited him into his bed at the end of the night, but eventually it would fizzle out into an intense blush and stuttering denials, each one a rejection in words but a promise in tone. Please keep asking, Cove would say with that gaze, maybe next time I’ll be able to say yes.

So Westley kept asking. Every few weeks, sometimes a couple months, he would ask Cove if he wanted to stay the night in his bed. And eventually, Cove decided he was ready. Or, well, he decided he didn’t want to wait anymore at least. 

It had been just this past Easter break, a couple weeks after Westley’s eighteenth birthday, Cove staying behind to study for his N.E.W.Ts and Westley staying behind to do anything but study for his N.E.W.Ts They had decided to spend the afternoon in the Room of Requirement, Westley requesting a cozy sitting room like the one from the first day they met but with two plush chairs at a large table instead of a couch. Cove was a veritable tornado of textbooks and worksheets, intent on going over everything and anything with a manic sort of enthusiasm. Westley sat slumped in his chair to his left, nothing of his own on the table other than the book he had picked out to read when they sat down after lunch. Cove had tried to convince him to study for all of 5 minutes before giving up. 

“Wes, these exams are important, you need to study.” He looked at Westley through his lashes, all cozy in a Metallica shirt that he had stolen along with a fuzzy grey blanket. “Please?”

“I am studying, honey. Mary Shelley is gonna teach me all about anatomy.” Westley tugged on the end of a seafoam ponytail, wiggling the worn novel in his hand and laughing at Cove’s eye roll. 

His boyfriend even brought out the big guns, sticking out his bottom lip and puffing his cheeks in his best pout, Westley’s name whispered with a breathy whine, but Westley just smacked a kiss to his lips and settled in to read. He hadn’t studied for a single test in his entire scholastic career, he wasn’t going to start now. No matter how cute Cove was.

He got halfway through the book before he noticed Cove getting antsy next to him. Long fingers tapped against the table lightly, barely making any sound but screaming Cove’s frustration, a furrow between wavy brows. He muttered to himself, quill scratching hard into his parchment as he flicked rapidly through old notes. Westley set his book down to check his watch - wincing when he realized they had just missed dinner - and pressed a kiss to Cove’s temple as he stood, barely getting a mumble of acknowledgement for his troubles. Westley just smiled to himself and left the room to head towards the kitchens. 

Dinner eaten, cinnamon roll devoured, cup of tea drained, and a wandering trip to the loo complete, Cove was back at it in the eye of his school-work hurricane. His posture was relaxed again, ocean gaze bright if blinking a little slowly. Westley leaned an elbow against the table, resting his jaw in his palm and reached out to wipe a bit of cinnamon on the corner of soft lips, grinning at the way Cove went red and pointedly did not look at him. 

He settled back in with his book, only looking up periodically when Cove poked him for some water or another cup of tea - something that had also taken Cove months to be comfortable doing, but he took full advantage of Westley’s doting nature now that it was exam season - and finally set it down properly when his watch started beeping at him hours later. 

Cove was still going strong, quill racing across his parchment and eyes scanning the textbook in front of him hungrily. But Westley knew his partner very well, and he could see that Cove was drooping.

Slight bags were forming under his eyes, aquamarine dull and glazed over behind his glasses. His back and shoulders were hunched over the table and Westley could already hear the timid request for a back rub coming his way in the morning. Seafoam hair had slipped from its tie at some point, cascading down his shoulders in a pretty wave, and Cove tugged on it with the hand that wasn’t writing. Westley reached out to stop him, grabbing the hand and bringing it to his lips to press soft kisses against bony fingers. 

“Think it’s about time we called it a day honey, it's gotten late.” Westley murmured into the skin. His boyfriend barely looked at him, still reading over a passage in his Herbology textbook. Cove’s hand was freezing and the tip of his nose was red, and how could he resist teasing him at least a little bit? Westley leaned in closer, brushing away soft hair to whisper in his ear. “You look cold, baby, want me to keep you warm tonight?”

Either Westley was losing his charm, or the practical application of some plant he couldn’t pronounce was actually more interesting than him, because Cove didn’t even blink. He jotted something down on his worksheet, squeezed Westley’s hand once, and hummed noncommittally. 

“Sure Wes,” Cove mumbled. He pulled his hand away to open a different textbook, flipping through it. “Whatever you want, just gimme another hour. Aha!” He resumed writing frantically, flipping over the page on his fourth practice exam of the day. 

“Whatever I want?” Westley asked, tone soft and mouth still close to Cove’s ear.

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure you wanna make that promise, Covey?”

“Uh huh.”

“And what if I said I wanted you in my bed?” Westley tugged on a lock of Cove’s hair, lips grazing his ear. He grabbed the hand that had escaped earlier, lacing their fingers together. “Wanted to hold you tonight, keep you close and warm under my blanket.”

“Westley.” Cove’s tone was sharp with rarely shown irritation. He shook his head like a disgruntled cat, wiggling his shoulders in an attempt to get Westley to back off with his hands still occupied. “I can’t focus. ”

“Well,” he finally backed off, leaning away with a huff. He really was losing his charm. “That’s probably because you’ve been doing this for,” Westley glanced back at his watch, doing the math in his head, “almost 11 hours straight?” Cove didn’t even answer, fully absorbed with his work. Westley let out a sign and dropped Cove’s hand before standing up.

He stretched, back popping and jaw cracking on a yawn. Westley tucked his paperback into the pocket of his jeans and started to clean up the table. Cove had spread his things out across the majority of the surface, and he worked his way in from the edge of the blast radius, collecting papers and textbooks and old tests and organizing them back into Cove’s bag. Eventually he reached the materials Cove was actually using, and now came the delicate process of bringing his boyfriend out of his hyper fixation. 

“Cove?” Westley placed his large hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Come on baby, time to go.”

“Yeah, okay, just another hour.” Cove requested again. He hunched further over his paper, scribbling faster.

“The castle is on fire and we need to evacuate.”

“Uh huh, almost done Wes.” Immediately contradicting his statement, Cove turned to the next page in his booklet. “If you’re getting up, can I have a cinnamon roll please?”

“No.”

“Huh?” Cove snapped out of his nerd-trance, turning to look at Westley with a pout already in place, nose wrinkling adorably. Well, that was easier than expected. Westley briefly considered adding the word no to his daily vocabulary. Having to constantly come up with wild things to shock Cove into listening was getting difficult. “Why not?” His boyfriend had the gall to sound offended, voice pitchy.

Westley just snorted, taking the opportunity to swipe away Cove’s Herbology textbooks and multiple practice exam booklets. The bag was slung over his shoulder when everything was successfully put away, Cove whining and trying to get his things back all the while. 

“Westley. I wanna study. ” His arms crossed over his chest, eyes squinted in a glare. The effect was lessened by the loose collar of Westley’s shirt slipping down his neck and the way his gaze couldn’t completely focus, going a little cross eyed behind his glasses. His voice was squeaky and whiny and adorable. “You can’t just take my things away cause you don’t care about your own grades.”

Oh, so that’s how it was gonna be. 

If anyone asked him, Westley would say that Cove was the sweetest, most considerate person on the planet. He was pouty and whiny and spoiled, stubborn and sarcastic and teasing, but he wasn’t snarky or combative like Westley. He spoke to others gently if a little blunt, and was rarely rude on purpose unless someone actually upset him - even then most of the time Westley was the one getting huffy not Cove. No, his Cove was nice and sweet, a perfect balance to the brash surliness Westley often treated others to. 

The only exception was in the rare moments that Cove was truly tired. Not sleepy, not dozy or just weary from getting up early and having a bad sleep the night before. Fully exhausted. When his brain went past the point of giving a shit about other people, and was solely focused on what he himself needed or wanted in that moment. 

Westley’s usually sunshiny boyfriend would go from soft, anxious teddy bear to the biggest, most demanding brat in the entire world within minutes. He’d pout and snark and make demands while looking up at Westley with big teary doe eyes, already aware that he would get his way no matter what. Westley wasn’t fully sure he’d ever said no to Cove when he was like this before.

Cove was lucky Westley found it as cute as he did. 

(Cove had told him, after the first time it happened, that that was how he always was as a kid. Testy and demanding, throwing fits and shrugging off his parents' rules. He had claimed that little Cove was convinced the world revolved around him, that nothing he did had any impact on those around him, so why should he care? 

Westley had stayed silent during that conversation for a while, their friendship still new and blossoming. He had been too scared to speak, convinced the words that would come out of his mouth would be my world does revolve around you.)

“Baby, I’m not stopping you because I want to,” Westley tried to placate. He held out a hand, letting Cove come to him. “I gotta get you to bed, it’s almost midnight. It’s only the second day of break, we can come back tomorrow, okay?”

Cove glare softened, but he continued to pout as he turned his head to the side, hiding behind his hair.

Westley let out a fond sigh, trying not to smile. If he showed even a modicum of weakness, they’d end up studying in the common room all night and Cove really needed to sleep. “What can I do to convince you?”

Cove pondered the question, chewing his lip. None of the usual shyness was present when he raised his arms, opening and closing his hands. Even if he was a total brat, it was so worth it to see Cove confident in his affection, brain too focused on what it wanted to be embarrassed about his actions. Westley let his smile break loose as he ducked down without hesitation to scoop Cove up into a bridal carry. He pressed soft kisses to his temple when lithe arms wrapped tight around his neck, loving the feeling of his body heavy in his arms. 

“Anything else princess?” He could feel Cove’s nose wrinkle where it was pressed into his throat.

“Don’t call me princess. Please.”

“As you wish.”

Westley started the familiar trek to the Ravenclaw tower, Cove’s long limbs dangling and fingers playing in his hair, but stopped when Cove tugged at the strands with a soft grunt. 

“Yes?”

Cove kept his face buried, but Westley could feel the heat on his cheeks. He shook his head, one hand leaving violet hair to gesture weakly towards the direction they were headed. 

“Words, dearest.” 

“No tower, tower sucks.” Cove muttered into his throat. “Wanna stay with you.”

Westley didn’t even answer. His chest felt warm and fuzzy, and he just tightened his hold and turned on his heel towards the Hufflepuff dorms. Cove snuggled in closer, letting out a pleased hum.

He dozed off in Westley’s arms during the walk, soft snores escaping him and a bit of drool clinging to his chin by the time they reached Westley’s empty room. He was always so beautiful when he slept, face slack and smooth, big brain finally quiet for a bit, and Westley just enjoyed the feeling of holding him for a couple minutes. Eventually, Cove was gently laid on the bed closest to Westley’s - which Westley always just thought of as Cove’s bed. It wasn’t like anyone else slept there, Maria having moved out of their dorm long before Cove showed up - the messenger bag dropping to the ground with the same motion. Westley removed his glasses and tugged the covers out from under limp, long limbs, tucking Cove in with a kiss to his temple, his cheeks, and finally his nose before smoothing back his hair and moving on to get himself changed. 

Westley was nowhere near ready for sleep, a tried and true night owl, so once he was in his pajamas he got settled on his bed to finish the last few chapters of Frankenstein. 

He had barely gotten ten minutes in before he was interrupted by a petulant whine. Westley glanced to his left with a smile on his face, already expecting what was coming next. Cove was prone to snacking during study sessions, and he had fallen asleep without that cinnamon roll he wanted earlier; Westley figured he was about to be sent off to the kitchens and sat up from leaning against his headboard. 

Cove was sitting up in bed too, glaring at him with his most heart wrenching pout yet. Westley’s blanket pooled around his hips, seafoam hair making a messy halo around his head. However, instead of asking for something sweet and a cup of tea, he extricated himself from the blankets and shuffled over to stand next to Westley’s bed, each movement jerky and aggressive like a toddler after a temper tantrum.

“Hi, sweetheart. Everything alright? Hungry?”

Cove looked at him, brain clearly still fuzzy with Grumpy Disease. “Why was I there?” He pointed sharply at the rumpled bed he had just vacated.

Westley raised a brow and answered hesitantly. “You decided you wanted to sleep here instead of the tower. Change your mind?”

“No. Wanna sleep with you.”

“Yeah babe, I got that.” Westley reached out and wrapped a hand around Cove’s hip, loving the way the other boy leaned into the touch. “That’s why you’re here, you’re with me right now.” Cove just looked at him like he was an idiot. Which, fair, but Westley wasn’t sure what he was missing at the moment. 

Cove shoved Westley’s book aside, lifting the blanket and crawling in before the other could catch up with what was happening. Cove’s hands pushed down on his shoulders with surprising force, and Westley found himself on his back with all 6 foot, 2 inches of Cove Holden pressed against his side. He was incredibly warm, body heat seeping into Westley and puffs of breath tickling his neck. 

“Um, Cove?” Westley tucked his arm around his boyfriend’s slim waist to keep him close despite his hesitation. “You sure you’re okay with this?” They had tried this just under a month ago, and Cove had jumped out of the bed with a loud squeak and burning face, diving under the covers of his own bed and refusing to talk to Westley for hours. Westley was scared that if that happened today Cove would end up bashing his head open with how uncoordinated he was earlier.

Cove just nodded against him, tossing an arm across Westley’s chest. “You said you were gonna hold me. Keep me close.” Westley didn’t need to see him to hear his pout. He wondered if the hammering against his chest was his heart or Cove’s. 

“I didn’t think you were listening!” Westley laughed, Cove’s head shaking with his chest. He felt the smaller boy tense in his arms, starting to shift away, and he rushed to clarify. “I want you here baby, don’t worry. Always want you close.” He squeezed Cove against him to prove his point. 

“I do want to be here, I have for a while.” Cove muttered. His voice was slurred with sleep. “I’m not scared of you, of us. Just, sometimes it’s… not too much, it’s not enough . And that’s what makes it too much.” He tightened his arm around Westley’s chest, a slight warble creeping into his tone. “But I’m tired, and stressed, and this is gonna end soon. We’re so close to leaving, and if I didn’t stay with you, here, at least once… I know I’d regret it forever.” He heaved in a breath and let it out slowly, tickling against Westley’s throat. 

“I’m too tired for it not to feel like enough, and all I want is you. I know you’re gonna make me talk about my feelings properly tomorrow, but for right now… just hold me like you said you wanted to, please?”

Westley loved Cove’s mind so much. The way he processed things and the logic he often drew was completely batty, but it was also incredibly endearing and more thought provoking than Westley gave him credit for. Cove was always thinking, and he did such an amazing job at putting his thoughts into words for Westley. He turned on his side towards Cove, pulling him against his body as tight as possible and twisting their legs together. 

“Whatever you want, my heart. Thank you for telling me.” He pressed soft kisses to his hair, let his hands roam Cove’s back and sides, and his perfect, adorable boyfriend sighed happily and snuggled in closer. “Goodnight, Cove. Sleep well.”

“Night Wes. See you tomorrow.” Cove yawned against him, pressing a lazy kiss to his throat before falling asleep almost instantly.

Westley had laid awake for hours that night. He stared down at Cove in his arms, smooshed against him so perfectly it was like he was born to take up that space. To lay in Westley’s arms, long body looking small against him, face relaxed and perfect and just oh so pretty, safe where he could be protected. Where Westley could hold him and wipe his eyes and bend to his every need; spoil him rotten and kiss him breathless and worship his skin. Westley played with his hair, traced his cheeks and nose and lips, memorized the knobs of his spine and the way goosebumps would rise on the back of his neck when fingers grazed his thighs. 

Westley’s thoughts were running wild, fumbling over themselves as he began to scheme out how to make sure this happened every single night for the rest of his life. Because if it didn’t, if summer came and he had to spend another agonizing two months without a part of himself, he wouldn’t survive. When Cove went back to California he took Westley’s whole heart with him; soothed by the scent of oranges and the sea, skipping beats at the sound of giggles and his name, yearning for his touch and craving his taste. 

Westley was completely at his mercy. He had always known - he had literally fallen to his knees the first time he saw Cove, he wasn’t fooling anyone - but it never fully clicked just how devoted he was. Just how much of his life was centered around Cove, how much of himself he had given and how much he had gained in return. It would be so easy for Cove to crush him, to realize Westley’s place beneath his heel and place his heart there and step down but he didn’t; Cove held Westley’s love and life and body like it was precious, worthy. 

Cove was reserved and hesitant and incredibly easy to fluster, but he had never once shied away from how much he loved Westley. He told him constantly, in words and hugs and gifts. Every promise to see each other tomorrow, each request for help or a snack. The whine in his voice, the pout on his lips, the way he’d hum and lean in to demand a kiss. They told Westley I love you, I’m safe with you, I am yours and you are mine. 

Westley stared at him, minutes or hours later - maybe even days, he wasn’t paying attention - and the only words left in his head were please marry me.

They had talked about marriage before. Mostly in the context of their parents, of Kyra and Cliff specifically, but Westley knew it was something Cove wanted. Something he looked forward to, dreamed of even. He wondered if Cove dreamed of marrying him as much as he dreamed of marrying Cove. Tucked away in the private little corner of his heart that holds secrets like his anger and his cowardice and his possessiveness, Westley holds daydreams of proposing to Cove. Of the different faces he might make, all with tears down his cheeks and yes on his lips, the sea air - because of course it would be happening by the ocean, Cove loved the beach  - making his hair sway and bangs catch on his glasses. Westley writes and recites speeches in his sleep, scraping the words off his tongue every morning and caging them in his chest to ensure they never see the light of day. 

Lots of witches and wizards got engaged before graduating, but that was more of a pureblood custom than anything. Would Cove say yes if Westley asked so soon? If he left the words on his tongue, let them out into the air, would Cove even want to hear them? Westley wasn’t sure. 

He had finally drifted off just before dawn. By that point they had shifted, Cove pushing forward in his sleep and Westley rolling with it onto his back. Cove’s head was pillowed on his chest again, arm banded tightly across Westley’s waist and his hand coming up to fist into his t-shirt. Westley fell asleep carding his fingers through Cove’s hair, trying to figure out how to get to a jewelry store without his family catching on.

The next few times Cove came to his bed weren’t as smooth - apparently his usual sweet Cove needed more than a handful of kisses to get comfortable. Westley loved grumpy Cove’s apathy and snark, but the way Cove would blush from the roots of his hair to the base of his neck was sorely missed - yet within a month they had basically moved Cove out of the tower and into Westley and Robert’s dorm permanently, his warmth a constant presence in Westley’s bed.

Westley shook his head in the present, trying not to look at his trunk at the end of the bed. He was constantly hyper aware of the small satin lined box nestled at the bottom. Instead, he focused on rousing his boyfriend up for the day, pushing away half formed proposal speeches and bringing his lovesick staring to an end. Despite Westley waking up to this view everyday for the last two months, he was never going to get used to it; the same thoughts from that first night taking him over each time he got the rare luxury of waking up before Cove.

He leaned in to nuzzle his nose behind Cove’s ear, running his hand up and down his torso under the stolen shirt. At this rate the only thing Cove wore that he actually owned was his uniform. Westley traced his hip bone, pondering how the thief would survive once he didn’t have access to Westley’s closet anymore, then grazed his fingers over Cove’s stomach, tickling the sensitive skin next to his happy trail and moving on to strategizing how to sneak himself into Cove’s suitcase. He pressed a kiss to the base of Cove’s throat and began to tease the skin with his tongue and teeth, smirking at the way Cove inhaled sharply and leaned into Westley with a breathy whine. 

Westley patted himself on the back. Him from three months ago was an idiot, he hadn’t lost shit. He could charm the pants off of Cove without even needing the other to be awake.

Wait. No, that sounded wrong.

“Wes?” Cove mumbled, pulling him from his musing and turning over lethargically to press his face in Westley’s chest.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Westley let him move, closing his hold around him when he finally settled, arm still under his shirt. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good.” Cove sighed. He pressed sleepy kisses to Westley’s chest over his shirt. “You?”

“Perfect.” Westley tightened his arms and rolled, pulling Cove on top of him with a tight grip. His boyfriend squeaked, but accepted the change in position easily, albeit with a fierce blush. He opened his legs to straddle Westley’s waist, hands gliding up his chest to slide into purple hair, and leaned forward to press their torsos together, head pillowing against the muscle of his shoulder. Westley snuck both hands up the stolen shirt and began tracing the skin of Cove’s back, smoothing down his spine then up along his hips, palm curving around his ribs and across his shoulders. He tucked his nose into Cove’s hair, breathing in sea salt and citrus, marveling at the fact that he’s allowed to do this. “Ready to go home?”

“No.” Cove tucked his cold nose against Westley’s throat. “I don’t want it to end.”

“You would rather be in classes forever?”

Cove huffed against him, tugging at his hair. “No. I wanna stay here forever. I have everything I need, my Westley and a comfy bed.”

“You’re so fucking cute, Merlin.” Westley wrapped his arms around Cove’s waist and squeezed him tightly. He fit so perfectly against him, thighs pressing into Westley’s sides and fingers teasing his scalp, palms brushing his ears and temples. Westley was filled with the intense need to kiss him, to worship his body and his voice and his heart, to love him and mark him and make sure he knew he was Westley’s. He let his hold loosen, broad hands returning to their rhythmic exploration of Cove’s back. “I love you so much.”

He tilted his head to the side, reaching for any sliver of bare skin he could find. He kissed Cove’s neck, his jaw and cheeks, his arms where they bracketed Westley’s head; his hands never stopped, and when Cove slid his own from his hair to instead cup his face, Westley teased at his fingers with his lips and teeth. Each swipe of Westley’s hands ended lower and lower, and by the time his fingers were teasing the waistband of Cove’s pajama pants his boyfriend was pressing sloppy kisses up his throat.

“Westley,” Cove sighed, nipping lightly at the skin of his jaw, “it's okay, I want you to. Please?”

Permission granted, Westley let his fingers slip into Cove’s pants. He cupped his ass fully in his hands, the smooth fabric of his boxers warm against his palms, squeezing tightly once to hear Cove gasp out a moan before swallowing it in a kiss. He licked into Cove’s mouth, tasting the faint mint of last night’s toothpaste. His hair cascaded down around them, tickling the skin of Westley’s face and throat, getting stuck on the short stubble Westley had yet to shave away. Strong fingers pulled at Westley’s hair again; they rubbed the scalp to soothe right after, his tongue licking Westley’s with the same rhythm, and Westley needed to know where the hell Cove learnt to kiss because Westley certainly hadn’t taught him to do that.

“ Cove!” He broke away with a gasp at a particularly hard tug, hands squeezing around Cove as he fought the urge to grind up into him. Cove simply tucked back into his neck, pressing kisses and kitten licks into the skin. Westley - reluctantly and with a herculean effort - moved his hands from Cove’s ass to the relative safety of his hips. He was rock hard in his sleep pants, and if they didn’t stop soon things were gonna get out of hand fast. “Baby, we gotta slow down.”

Cove pulled back, bracing his hands on Westley’s chest to sit up on his stomach. He huffed in a couple deep breaths, face tomato red but eyes locked onto Westley’s. He was chewing his words, breathing in deeply, kiss-swollen bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

Oh this was gonna be good. Westley loved that face.

“Wes.” Cove’s voice was slightly wobbly but serious, and about as confident as Cove was able to sound at any given moment. 

“Yeah Covey?”

“I love you. I trust you, and I want to be with you. We haven’t really talked about it too much, but… I, I want…” Cove bit his lip, fingers tapping against Westley’s pec nervously. Westley gave him a reassuring smile and brought his hands up to squeeze his waist, silently encouraging him to continue while pushing down his own anticipation. His heart jumped in his chest, pounding against Cove’s palm, and he tried not to get his hopes up about him asking Westley to come with him to California. They hadn’t really talked about it, about what was going to happen after they got off the train today. Cove would come home with him for a few days, visiting with Westley’s mom and sister, and then he’d leave and Westley didn’t know if he was welcome to follow. And he would. If Cove asked him to, he’d move to the middle of fucking nowhere without a second thought. As long as he could come home to ocean eyes and a sunny smile, as long as wherever they were made Cove happy, he’d move anywhere. 

Cove swallowed thickly once, never breaking eye contact, and finally spit it out in a rushed exhale. “I want to have sex with you!”

Westley fully blue screened. His soul vacated his body, his brain completely fried in his skull. His nose would be bleeding if all the blood in his body hadn't rushed immediately south. He stared up at Cove with wide eyes and a gaped jaw, unable to speak.

Cove wanted to have sex with him. Cove. Beautiful, brilliant, legs for days, ocean god in mortal form Cove Holden wanted Westley? What the fuck ? He’d dreamed of this - had literally just woken up from one not even an hour ago, those proposals swirling around in his head weren’t all for marriage - but never ever actually considered it might happen. He teased and flirted and leered, took every inch of affection given to him; ravaged Cove’s lips and neck and held him possessively, but Cove had never shown an interest in anything more than that, and Westley had just accepted it and moved on. They hadn’t addressed it when they first started dating, Cove too awkward to hold that kind of conversation, and the talk they had after the bed sharing had been mostly about Cove being stressed about exams and his anxieties around their relationship. As much as Westley wanted to go further, he wasn’t about to bring it up and rush Cove into making a decision. Not that he’d rush Cove, it’s just that his love had a tendency to overthink things and Westley would simply have to throw himself in front of the Hogwarts Express if he made Cove uncomfortable again after the disaster that was their first kiss.

Cove’s soft voice cleared some of the fog. “I thought…do you not want to?” He went shy, curling into himself and averting his rapidly watering gaze. He sat back against Westley fully, pulling his arms in to rub at his scar, face still incredibly red but twisting with hurt and rejection. 

“No!” Westley exclaimed. He sat up and crossed his legs, dumping Cove into his lap and wrapping an arm around his waist to stabilize him. The other fell to Cove’s thigh, squeezing the sturdy muscle. “No, I mean, yes, yes Cove I do. Very, yes, I mean, yes much, I- shit. Fuck!” Fuck he was an idiot, get it together Last! 

He sucked in a deep breath, Cove mimicking him, and pulled his boyfriend in against his chest. Cove tucked his face into his neck again, hiding. Westley let him, sliding his hands into seafoam and brushing through the strands to relax them both. It had grown long in his three years at Hogwarts, the shoulder length cut he had when they had first met now down to his ribs. It was often up in a ponytail or a loose low bun, and Westley loved tugging at the pieces that would fall out to join Cove’s bangs in framing his face. He pulled lightly on one now, twirling the strand between his fingers and gathering his thoughts. He slowly calmed his breathing 

“I love you too,” he started once he was confident in his ability to form coherent sentences. “I do want to Cove, I really really do. You’re so beautiful, so smart and sexy, how could I not?” He pressed his lips to Cove’s neck, closing his eyes and breathing him in as he continued. “I didn’t think you were interested, and even if I did I didn’t think you’d be ready for anything like that.”

“You never do.” Cove muttered. He sounded petulant; pouty and whiny and like a little brat . Westley winced, - he had managed to hurt Cove’s feelings. Time to cash in that favor Robby owed him and have him cast a couple unforgivables - he could admit he was pretty quick to assume that Cove wasn’t going to be able to handle something, but in his defense he was right 95% of the time. Cove just tended to get lucky when it came to surprising him. 

“I’m sorry honey, you’re right.” Guilt speed into his tone, and Cove pressed a kiss to his throat, apology accepted.  So sweet to him, his Cove. “It just took you a long time to get comfortable with us sharing a bed. Like you said, we never did properly talk about this when we got together, and I never wanted to pressure you. If you’re sure this is something you want, only because you want it, then I am all in.” Westley ran his hands down Cove’s back. He had relaxed while Westley spoke, and fully pulled away after a few more moments. 

“I want it, Westley, I want you. I have for weeks now but I just…”

“Feel like too much?”

“Yes, yes it was too much. But not anymore.” Cove crossed his arms around Westley’s neck, letting his hands dangle behind his head. “Now it feels like too much not to do it.” He leaned in close, eyes lidded and bright. His gaze was zeroed in on Westley’s lips and he felt a familiar warmth pool in his gut at the attention. 

“Fuck,” Westley whispered into the air between them, mere millimeters of space separating them. He licked his lips, tongue catching Cove’s, and dove in to taste his lover’s mouth again before pulling away. “You really want me?”

“Who else?”

Little brat, using Westley’s words against him. “You’ll tell me to stop?”

“Yes, Westley. I trust you, I promise.” Cove fisted his hands into his hair again, pushing his body forward to tip them back into their previous position. He leaned up to Westley’s ear, the long line of his body pressing against every inch of him. “Please Westley.” He gasped, voice going high and needy. 

Westley rolled them over with a sharp movement, slotting himself between Cove’s legs and thrusting against him in seconds. Cove moaned while tugging at his hair, and Westley pulled back to finally get him out of that damn shirt.  

Westley might have ripped it in his haste, but to his credit Cove looked absolutely wonderful half naked in his bed, and Westley didn’t really give a shit about an old shirt at the moment. Cove had asked for this, basically begged him for it, and Westley was not going to disappoint. He was painfully hard in his pajama pants, but didn’t give himself a second thought.

He instead bore down on Cove, licking and kissing across his throat and biting his collarbone, savoring the feeling of smooth bare skin. He couldn’t think, only focused on tasting his boyfriend and the feeling of Cove arching into his touch. He gasped his name and moaned and squeaked, desperate like he was praying, and Westley slowly started moving down. He propped himself up on his elbows, hands sliding underneath Cove’s back; his forearms were pressed against his rib cage and he could feel a fluttering heartbeat and quick breathing as he licked over a nipple. 

Westley pulled his lips away, leaning up to press a lingering kiss on Cove’s mouth instead. He pressed his weight lightly onto Cove when their lips parted, and waited until Cove’s eyes opened again to speak. “You okay baby?”

“Mhmm,” Cove’s hands were on his shoulders, and they slid down to grip his biceps as he nuzzled against Westley’s nose. “Yeah, I’m okay. Nervous, but no more than usual. I’ll calm down. Are you okay Wes?”

Westley just smiled and kissed him again. Silly boy, Westley’s been okay ever since that first train ride. 

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, kissing lazily and smiling into it, giggling at each other. Westley calmed himself down, willing his erection to chill the fuck out for a bit so he could actually make it through the impending conversation. When Westley was satisfied with Cove’s heart rate - Cove would actually die if he had to be taken to the infirmary because of a sex induced heart attack, and Westley kind of liked his boyfriend alive - he let the kiss wander down his soft jaw, up his cheek, and finally settle against his temple. He pulled back again to look at Cove.

Blue eyes were closed, plush lips still pursed and chin tilting to chase after the errant kiss. Westley couldn’t resist smooching him again, licking at his lips once before pulling back. Cove opened his eyes this time, a wobbly smile forming. 

“Hi.” He whispered, voice cracking. 

“Hi baby,” Westley grinned down at him, “can you tell me what you want? I gotta know how far you’re comfortable going before we do anything.”

Cove’s face burned even brighter, and he fully stopped breathing mid inhale. Westley could feel him still against his chest, hands freezing against his biceps. Shit, he broke him.

“Breathe my heart, please,” Westley squeezed his ribs until he felt them move again. “Thank you darling. Relax, do you need help?” Cove nodded frantically, fingers scrambling into Westley’s hair to pull him down fully. Westley just did his best to support himself on one arm, using the other to squeeze at Cove’s hip and run through the Cry Baby routine, cooing words of affection. Their faces were tucked into each other’s necks, and eventually Cove calmed down enough to begin pressing kisses against his skin.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, voice quivering. His lips tickled against Westley’s throat as he spoke, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m always like this. I spent so long hyping myself up to tell you, but I didn’t think about anything past that. And then it happened, and you want me, for some reason, and I don’t know what to do!”

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.” Westley slowly pulled back, inching away as Cove loosened his death grip. “How about this? I’ll tell you what I want to do, and you can tell me if you’d be comfortable with it. We can do whatever you want, no wrong answers, and we can stop at any time, okay?.”

Cove’s eyes were glittering with tears when they met Westley’s, but he looked relieved and nodded. “I- I’d like that. It’s not gonna be too awkward?” 

“No, not at all. Not if it makes you feel better.” Westley would do anything if it made Cove happy. He’d sprint butt naked across Diagon Alley, shout his love from the top of the astronomy tower then throw himself off it, follow this man to the end of the earth like a loyal dog for the rest of his life. If Cove decided he wanted to take over the world, burn it to the ground and build a kingdom upon its ashes, Westley would be the one jumping to light his torch. A little embarrassment was nothing if it made Cove smile. “Do you want to stay like this?” 

“Yes.”

“Alright. I need you to verbally answer me each time, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” Westley ducked to rub their noses together, adoring the way Cove’s scrunched. “First, I don’t think either of us are ready to go all the way. Do you want to try penetra-”

“No!” Cove squeezed his eyes shut. “No, I. I-”

“Shh, it’s okay. Just a no is enough, you don’t have to explain yourself.” He pressed kisses to Cove’s face again until he opened his eyes. “I want you naked. Is that okay?”

Cove squeaked, gaze darting away, but nodded frantically. “Yes.” 

“Then I’d want to touch you -”

“Yes please!”

“Is there anywhere you don’t want me to touch?”

“No.”

Westley smirked, leaning down to hover his lips just above Cove’s. “Can I kiss you everywhere too?”

“Yes.” 

Westley pressed their lips together, then kissed up his jaw to his ear. “Can I give you a hickey?”

“Oh,” Cove paused, letting out a whimper. “Y-yes. I like when you do that.”

“I like it too honey.” Westley kissed down Cove’s throat, finding a nice patch of skin right at the base. One of Cove’s hands had come back up in his hair - always fidgeting - but the other strayed to Westley’s bicep, squeezing each time Cove took in a sharp breath. Westley licked at the spot he picked out, pulling out more lovely little gasps, before nipping at the skin.

“Oh!” Cove moaned. His fingers tugged at Westley’s hair and dug into the muscle of his arm, and he cried out. “Westleyyy!” Oh there was that whine again. Westley wasn’t gonna last if Cove kept saying his name like that. He surged back up, looking Cove in the eye. 

“Can I suck your dick please?” He barely recognized his own voice. It was dark and husky, a pleading tone he’d never heard before leaking through it. 

Cove’s eyes went impossible wide and round before rolling back in his head, mouth opening and closing before snapping shut. “Yes,” he breathed, “please. Oh my god, please Westley. Yes, no more questions. Hurry up!”

“Fuck, of course you’d be a little brat in bed.” Westley laughed, pressing a soothing kiss to the mark he had created as he moved down Cove’s chest to leave another mark there.

“What?! That’s so mea- ah! ” Cove cut himself off when the spot Westley found turned out to be his nipple. 

“What was that, brat? Have something to say?” All he got in return was a few soft ah ah ahs, so Westley took that as a good sign. He ran his hands down Cove’s back to settle on his hips, lips mirroring the path along his front. He kissed down a turquoise trail to stop at Cove’s waistband. He was wearing Westley’s quidditch pajamas again, and Westley squeezed his hips tightly in appreciation. He was just so damn cute, pants riding low to show the band of his underwear and a full body blush on display. He looked up at his face, and was mesmerized. 

Westley wanted to burn this image into his retinas. Looking up at Cove from between his long legs to take in aquamarine eyes fuzzy with heat and desire, kiss bruised lips parted on a sweet sigh, Westley's name cut off with a moan. His head settled on the pillow in a puddle of seafoam and the hand in Westley’s hair twisted and gripped, the other rising from his bicep to tug at the collar of his shirt impatiently. 

Say what you will about Cove Holden’s inability to flirt; once he was in bed and past the hurdle of initiating, Westley’s boyfriend was a force to be reckoned with. 

“May I?” Westley murmured. He tugged at the waistband of the pilfered pajamas. 

“Yes.” Cove gasped. His face was as red as it had been since Westley first started kissing down his chest, but there was something else going on there. The blotchiness of it was off, the glassiness of his eyes a little too bright. Westley lifted himself up a bit and peered at his boyfriend.

“You gonna cry?”

“Westley!” Cove’s hands left Westley to instead cover his own face. “Oh my god I can’t believe you. Yes, I'm gonna cry. Do you expect any different?”

Westley huffed a laugh and ducked back down to press apologetic kisses to the skin of Cove’s hip. He slipped his fingers under Cove’s waistband, pulling the pajamas down and tossing them aside in a clean motion. He nuzzled into the thin cloth of the boxers left behind and pressed more kisses to Cove’s thighs.  

“Sorry my crybaby.” He soothed, lips moving up to kiss where Cove’s thigh and hip met. “Good tears?”

“Yeah,” Cove sighed. He was still hiding, but was peeking through his fingers now. 

“You wanna keep going?”

“Yes.” Cove’s voice wobbled around the word but he didn’t hesitate. “Do you?”

“Definitely.” Westley bit into the meat of Cove’s hip lightly, catching the elastic waistband of his underwear with his teeth as he pulled back. He let it go just a little less than an inch away from Cove’s skin, following the sting of the light snap with a kiss. The way Cove squealed and reached out to clench his fists in Westley’s hair was well worth the glare he received when he looked back up. “There you are. Done hiding brat?”

Cove rolled his eyes but softened into a smile. “Don’t tease me.”

“ What? ” Westley slipped his fingers under the elastic with a grin, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips. “Me? Tease? Why, I would never!” He immediately contradicted himself by slowly inching down Cove’s underwear, kissing across the exposed skin from hip to hip before revealing another sliver. “Can’t believe -” a kiss to the smooth inside of Cove’s hip, “my darling boyfriend -” another directly south of his belly button, his chin brushing against the growing tent in Cove’s boxers, “would accuse me of such -” this time he was cut off by Cove pulling his hair sharply, grip tight and a keening whine piercing the air. Westley let out a moan and his eyes fluttered shut. He pressed another kiss to Cove’s sensitive stomach before finishing his statement. “Cruelty.” 

He finally sat up to pull the thin fabric down, sliding it off long, tan legs to be tossed somewhere to the side before moving to settle back between them and lean in for another kiss. He was stopped by Cove’s hands on his shoulders, eyes not on Westley's but his sleep pants instead. Cove took in a deep breath before trailing his hands down Westley’s chest, fingers setting his nerves on fire wherever they lightly grazed, burning gaze following the movements. Aquamarine finally met grey as he slipped a hand under Westley’s shirt to touch his abs and tugged at his pants with the other. 

“Off please.” Cove’s voice was hushed and raspy, tone full of need and anticipation. “Wanna touch you too.” 

“Shit honey, want you to touch me too, great idea. One sec.” Westley pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before he pulled back and got out of the bed. He tugged the shirt over his head, tossing it aside and throwing his pajama pants after it. He kept his boxers on for now, not wanting to make Cove feel like he would have to reciprocate. He briefly grabbed his wand to cast a strong silencing charm around their closed curtain - if anyone else heard Cove like this, panting and moaning and falling apart, Westley would have to kill them. Or obliviate them, that would probably be better - and he rejoined Cove within a minute, bracketing him in his arms and smoothing back his bangs, but the needy thing acted as if it had been an hour. He wrapped his arms around Westley’s neck and pulled him down on top of him, breathy whines spilling from his lips as their bare skin slid together. 

“Shh baby, I’m right here.” Westley claimed his mouth in a kiss, deepening it instantly. He slowly pulled away, keeping his eyes on Cove’s as he trailed back down his chest, whispering into his skin. “You’re so beautiful, Cove. I love you.”

“Love you - oh my god!” Cove’s hands had followed Westley, and they clenched in his hair as he pressed a kiss to the bare skin on the inside of Cove’s thigh for the first time. He nipped at it and started working on another mark, hands holding onto Cove’s hips, ignoring the erection mere inches away from his face. “Wes, Wes! ”

“You sound so lovely Covey,” Westley whispered, lips slowly tracing to where thigh met hip. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe. All he could do was taste and touch. “Tell me what you want, my love. You always sound so pretty when you ask me for things.”

“Touch me, Westley.” Cove bucked his hips. “Want you to touch me now.”

“As you wish.” Westley trailed a hand from Cove’s hip - were his hands always this big against him? Broad and rough and a couple shades darker, completely encompassing the bone - and wrapped it around Cove’s length. He was warm in Westley's hand, hot and long and perfect . Cove let out a sinful sound when Westley fully closed around him, eyes fluttering shut and hands pushing his head down. Westley let himself be guided, but he ducked to the side to nip at Cove’s thighs, thumb teasing the soft head of his cock. “Patience, Cove. Thought you wanted me to touch you, hm?”

“You, yes like that, you’re so mean to me.”

“You love it.” Another nip to his thigh, and Westley moved to press his lips to the base of Cove’s cock.

“I thought, ah, I thought I said n-not to tease!”

“But it’s so fun.” Westley quipped, unable to resist. Cove let out a surprised gasp that fizzled into a moan when he ran his tongue on the underside of his dick. He pulled away to look at Cove one more time. “Ready?”

“Yes yes, please Westley. Don’t stop, I don’t want you to stop.” Cove’s voice was high and needy, and Westley dove down to take the head of his cock into his mouth. He licked and sucked at it, tasting his precum as he slowly moved his way down the shaft, taking him inch by inch while Cove babbled above him. “Wes, oh my god. Feels so good, Wes. My Wes, mine, love you, love you.”

Westley began to bob up and down, savoring the taste of salt and skin and Cove. He sank further, laying flat on his stomach with his head buried between Cove’s legs, sliding his hands under strong thighs to hook his knees over his shoulders. He let his hands come up to settle in the curve of Cove’s back where it arched up off the mattress. His mind was completely blank, all thoughts aside from Cove’s name and his goal gone with the wind. He heard an adorable squeal at the change in position, both of Cove’s hands now fisting into his hair, pulling Westley down as his hips bucked up. 

“Shit, Wes, fuck. More, like that.” Westley’s nose brushed against his pelvis, and he swallowed around Cove, ripping another moan from his lips. “ Westleyyy! Ohh, yes honey, yes.”

This was not what Westley ever expected when he imagined sucking Cove’s dick. He thought the other boy would be timid and shy, soft sighs and breathy moans escaping his attempts at muffling them with his hands. This was a million times better. Cove was possessive and wanting, demands falling from his lips in that perfect bratty tone, expletives and pet names stirring Westley’s cock. He was straining against the fabric of his boxers but ignored it, putting his focus into hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue as he picked up the pace. Cove was growing tense beneath him, ankles crossed behind Westley's neck and knees squeezing his head. He’d stopped saying real words at some point, only moans and parts of Westley’s name leaving his lips until he suddenly pulled hard at Westley’s hair.

“Wes you feel amazing,” he panted, “so good, you’re doing so good. Just a little more, please, please, more.” 

Westley’s eyes fluttered shut and he moaned at the praise and the sting, picking up speed and bucking into the mattress below him. This was amazing. He could die like this, with Cove thick and hot in his mouth, heavy and delicious on his tongue. He was perfect, everything Westley ever wanted and more, and he was his . 

“Close, Wes, close.” Westley just doubled down, humming as salt began to flood his mouth. “Shit, are you sure?” Westley hummed again, taking Cove as deeply as he could, whimpering when he hit the back of his throat. 

“ Westley!” Cove was coming seconds later, hot and thick and wonderful in his mouth. He swallowed, holding Cove until he started to soften, then pulled away with a soft pop . 

Westley slid up Cove’s body, pressing kisses to the flushed skin laid out before him until he could lay out next to him. Cove turned to him, hands coming up to clutch Westley’s face and smash their lips together. The kiss was fervent and needy, Cove licking into his mouth and claiming the space as his own, tasting himself on Westley’s tongue. He pulled away with a wet sound, ocean eyes bright. 

“Hi.” Cove’s voice was hoarse from the moaning and wobbly from the tears.

“Hi.” Westley’s voice was hoarse from the cock he just had down his throat and wobbly from how hard his dick was in his boxers. “Good?”

“Yes, very. So good.” Cove kissed him again, softly this time, and caressed his cheeks. “You made me feel so good Wes, thank you. Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

“I certainly don’t mind.” Westley loved this dork so much. 

“Thank you. Thank you Wes, thank you.” Cove pressed kisses to his cheeks and jaw and chin. “Can I do that for you now? Please?” 

“Guh-” Westley’s voice got stuck in his throat, his brain shutting down at the thought of Cove’s mouth anywhere near his dick. He nodded furiously, forcing his head to jerk around and almost bashing his forehead into Cove’s. 

“Westley,” Cove tone was chastising and bratty, the same one he used when Westley tried to take his books away. “Need you to use your words.” He nipped at Westley’s jaw, teeth grazing the skin and his tongue tasting the coarse stubble, and Westley snapped.

“Please,” he moaned, eyes closing at the feeling of Cove’s hands wandering down his chest. “Please, Cove.”

“You’re so gorgeous, Westley.” Cove sighed, mouth following his fingers. “So handsome and strong.” He kissed his way down Westley’s body, teeth nipping at his nipples and abs, palms smoothing up and down his skin. He hesitated when he reached the black fabric covering Westley’s crotch, peering up at him through his lashes and biting his lip. “Can you take these off?”

Westley almost came right there, untouched. Just the sight of Cove halfway down the bed, hands on Westley and face right next to his hip as he praised him and asked him to get naked, was more than he ever dreamed of. He sat up and scrambled out of his boxers, throwing them somewhere and shuffling back against the headboard. The sheets were soft beneath his bare skin, the air cold and a shock to his cock standing at attention between his legs. 

Cove was kneeling on the bed next to him, hand on one of Westley’s thick thighs and eyes zeroed in between them. “Woah.”

Westley let out a burst of laughter, tickled pink by the look on Cove’s face. He wasn’t that much bigger than Cove, only an inch or so longer and a bit thicker as well, but Cove looked like it was a massive difference. His eyes were wide and mouth ajar, fingers squeezing Westley’s leg. 

“You okay baby?” He asked. “We don’t have to keep going.”

“I want to.” Cove looked determined now, jaw set under his red flush, shifting to straddle the thigh he was gripping. He placed a hand on Westley’s shoulder, leaning forward and down until his lips grazed Westley’s ear. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” Westley breathed. His hands trailed up the back of Cove’s thighs until he was able to hold his ass in a firm grip. “Always.”

Cove finally touched him, fingers tentatively stroking his length and thumb swiping the head. He copied what Westley had done, tightening his grip and exploring the skin. Westley let his head thunk against the headboard, moaning Cove’s name until he was cut off by lips against his. Cove moved away from him suddenly, kissing him one second and clamoring off him the next to duck down and swipe his tongue inside Westley’s thigh. 

Cove looked up at him again, this time while he started stretching out on his stomach. Westley felt his chest tighten and heat pool in his stomach, balls tightening. If he thought Cove looked good before, he looked amazing now. His slim shoulders were barely wider than Westley’s hips, hair a mess around him and sweat gleaming against his skin. Blue eyes were wild with lust, bright and sparkling, softening slightly as he gave Westley a tiny smile. 

“Cove,” Westley gasped, finding the strength to lift his hand and brush the bangs out of Cove’s eyes. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Wanna use my mouth,” Cove demanded in response, voice eager. “Can I? Wanna taste you Wes, is that okay?”

“Yes, yes.” Westley chanted, the hand still in Cove’s hair pulling gently. Cove whined and ducked his head down to nuzzle at the dark patch of purple hair just above Westley’s cock, and any brain to mouth filter he had evaporated at the sight. “Wanna fuck your mouth Cove, please honey? Please, baby. Bet you’d look so good like that, lips stretched around me. Wanna see you like that, my pretty brat with a prick in his mouth, see you cry on it- fuck!” 

His rambling was cut off when Cove’s hot, wet, perfect, mouth finally met his dick. He pressed his lips to the head, tongue following, trailing feather light kisses and licks down his shaft until he reached the base, only to repeat the process again from bottom to top. It drove Westley insane, just enough warmth and pressure to feel amazing, but not enough friction to ease the ache. 

Westley’s hands drifted from seafoam hair to the slope of Cove’s jaw, fingers trailing down to cup his chin. He turned his face away from where he was licking up Westley’s dick, tongue pink and lovely between his lips. Westley wanted to berate him, to be a little mean and scold him for teasing like a hypocrite to hear him whine and see him pout.

“Brat.” He started, but his voice was breathy, the word tasting like dearest, my heart . He let his thumb graze plump lips, pushing past them to let the digit sit heavy on that tantalizing tongue. Cove's eyes went wide then rolled back, lashes fluttering, and Westley was gone. “Oh you're so pretty, Cove. Love seeing you like this, confident and teasing. Come here sweet thing, let me kiss you please.”

Cove squeaked around his thumb, eyes wide again and pupils blown. Westley pulled it from his mouth and held his jaw again, guiding him forward to kiss him. He tried to pour every ounce of his feelings into the kiss. He was so in love with this boy, so devoted to his happiness, so amazed that every day Cove woke up and actively chose to be Westley’s. Westley’s! Cove could have any person in the school - hell, anyone in the whole fucking continent, Westley’s boyfriend was so completely out of his league it was insane - yet he woke up every day and decided he wanted Westley. Gloomy, snarky, all brawn no brains Westley.

He had no idea what he did to deserve Cove. He didn’t know how many orphans he had to save in a past life, nor did he have any clue what made Cove like him so much, but what he did know was that he was going to spend the rest of his life cherishing the chance he was given. He bit Cove’s bottom lip just to hear him squeak again, soothing it with his tongue to hear him sigh. 

“Wes,” Cove whispered against his lips, ”are you ready?”

Westley kissed him again, just because he could, and hummed. “Yeah honey. Ready when you are.”

Cove’s flush had calmed during the kiss but came back full force. His lips went wobbly, but his eyes held the same heat and determination. He slid back down Westley’s body, hiding his face in his skin, and settled between his legs. Westley closed his eyes, resting against the headboard and relaxing his body, his hands coming up to cradle Cove’s head. 

Wet warmth enveloped him, soft and tentative as Cove slowly slid him into his mouth. One of his hands came to hold him at the base, the other resting on Westley’s thigh. Cove’s hands were large, palms wide and sturdy, fingers a little shaky but enthusiastic as they squeezed and soothed and wandered. 

Westley loved his hands, loved his mouth, loved him. More than he ever thought he could love a person. He was so beautiful, so smart. Crazy smart, his brain constantly left Westley reeling, it was so sexy how smart he was. Westley wanted to love him forever, hold him and take care of him and suck his cock until his last days. His Cove was perfect, amazing, the most -

The heat was suddenly gone, a sharp pinch to Westley’s thigh jolting him back to the present. Cove had sat up, his face the brightest red Westley had ever seen, aquamarine glaring at him fiercely. 

“Westley!” Cove chastised, voice whiny with embarrassment. “I love you, but would you please shut up!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Westley hadn’t even realized he’d been talking. He gave Cove a sheepish smile, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry princess, but I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

Cove just huffed, pout at full force. Good, Westley was starting to miss it.  “Don’t call me princess.” Then he was ducking down again, taking Westley's cock halfway in his mouth, the other half held by his hand again. He squeezed and sucked and bobbed his head, tongue tasting and swirling, and Westley really needed to know why the hell he was so good at this.

“Cove.” He was told to shut up but Westley knew how much Cove liked hearing his name. The soft hum that vibrated around him proved it. Westley fought the urge to buck, heat swirling and stomach dropping. He was not going to last - he’d been on the edge since he got Cove shirtless and panting - and brought his hands to Cove’s hair to warn him. “Cove, gonna come soon. Wanna do it in your mouth is that okay?”

Cove only got off him long enough to spout out a rushed yes before bearing back down, hand never stopping its movement. He hummed and whined and whimpered, each sound pushing Westley further until he was pulling Cove’s head back by his hair, grip gentle but firm, too concerned about choking him to come down his throat. 

“Open” he begged instead, and Cove gasped but did as told, mouth open and hand pumping, and it’s that sight that ended Westley. He came hard, head flying back, eyes pressing shut when Cove closed his lips around him and swallowed. “Oh Cove, fuck. Wow, Cove -” 

Westley gaped and gasped, struck dumb by his orgasm and slumping bonelessly. He slid down the bed, hands reaching for Cove, and they came to lay together again. Westley stayed on his back, and Cove molded to his side, head on Westley's bicep and arm curled around his shoulders to cup his jaw. Their legs tangled together, chests expanding out of synch as they caught their breath, lips coming together in sloppy, open mouthed kisses. 

Cove pulled away first, going shy again now that they were calming down. “Was it good?”

“Amazing. Fantastic, you did so good. So good, where did you learn to do that?” Westley peppered kisses to his face in between his praise, chasing away the doubt. “Is that what they teach you at those American schools?”

“Wes!” Cove laughed and poked his jaw, smiling and sunny and warm. 

“Did you like it?” Westley hoped he did. He wanted to do that again and again and again. 

“Yes, I did.” Cove sighed. 

“Will you tell me what you liked best?”

“I have to tell you that?!” Cove looked appalled at the idea, wavy eyebrows high on his forehead. 

“I would really like it if you did. I wanna make you feel good Cove, wanna know what you like.” 

Cove bit his lip, looking at Westley through the corner of his eye. “I liked, um. When you talked, most of it at least.” That got a huff of laughter from him, and Cove continued, emboldened. “And when you, like, bit me, and called me names like you usually do. But I liked it best when you called me my name, and um…”

“And?” Cove was making that face again, the one Westley loved. The one that meant Cove was going to say something that would make Westley fumble and fall in love all over again. 

“I liked… ilikedwhenyoucalledmebrat.” He rushed out the words like they were painful to say, but Westley was fluent in Flustered Cove. He got the message. 

“It’s ‘cause you know it’s true.”

“Westley!” Cove hid his face in his broad shoulder. “What did you like?”

“Everything.” 

“That’s not fair!”

“Sorry brat,” Westley hugged him close, reveling in the way Cove melted into him. “Them’s the brakes.” 

“You’re so mean to me. What happened to my nice Westley, I miss him.” Cove stuck his nose into his neck, nipping at his throat and soothing the skin with his lips. 

“I liked when you pulled my hair,” Westley said, tilting his head to let his voice - husky and raw and a tone or two deeper than usual - brush against Cove’s ear. “When you said my name, when you whimpered on my cock. Loved it when you asked me for things, ordered me around. Always wanna do things for you Cove, love taking care of you.” 

Cove pulled away to look at him. “O-oh okay. Okay, I like those things too.”

Fuck he was just too precious. Westley looked away, directing his eyes to the ceiling. He needed to think of something else to say, had to change the subject before he told Cove about the ring in his trunk and proposed in post-orgasmic bliss less than 24 hours after graduating. Lizzie would never let him forget it if he did. He scrambled for a topic, about to ask about the weather of all things, when Cove beat him to it. 

“Can I ask you something?” He sounded almost sad, like he knew the answer to his question wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear. Westley squeezed him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“‘Course.”

“Would you be willing to give California a chance? My mom wants to meet you, and I miss you so much when I’m gone. It doesn’t have to be permanent, just come for a visit?” He didn’t look at Westley, eyes closed and lip trapped between his teeth. 

This was the best day of Westley’s life. His heart stopped, his hold on Cove tightening almost painfully. 

“Yes.” He pulled Cove on top of him again, their naked bodies pressing together as he cradled his boyfriend close. His eyes stung, and he buried his tears in Cove’s hair. “Yes, please. Please, I want to come with you.” Westley pulled back to capture Cove’s lips, arms wrapping around his waist and shoulders. 

“Westley?” Cove mumbled against his lips. His hands had come up to frame Westley’s face, legs straddling his waist. “You okay?”

Westley, unable to speak, just nodded and kissed him again. 

“Wes, honey,” Cove tugged at his hair, pulling him back. His eyes searched Westley’s, looking concerned. “Why are you crying?”

“I love you so much Covey.” His voice broke on a sob, and he turned them onto their sides, body curling around Cove. He tucked him into his chest, right beneath his chin, safe and warm and where he belonged. “I was so scared you wanted me to stay behind, I didn’t want you to leave again. Thank you baby, thank you. Please, please let me come with you, please.”

“Oh, Westley, of course I want you with me.” Cove wiggled in his hold to get comfortable, wrapping his arms around Westley as best he could. His voice was wobbly again, and Westley felt tears spill onto his skin. “I’m sorry, I thought…I didn’t think you’d want to leave your family.”

Westley huffed and nuzzled into seafoam hair, trying to calm down. “You’re my family too, Cove.” He whispered, letting some of those recited words come through. They sat as heavy as ever on his tongue, but tasted sweet instead of bitter. “I love you. I will love you forever, I am yours for as long as you want me, and for centuries after. I will follow you anywhere, Covey, I promise.” 

“Westley…” Cove started crying in earnest now, and Westley just held on to him as he shook. “W-would you. I want, if I said I wanted to… ah I can’t I can’t. I hate this, I’m always like this!” 

“Shh, hey, be nice to yourself darling.” Westley pressed kisses to his crown, soothing his hands up and down his spine. “You can ask me whatever you want, worst I’ll do is tell you to wait.”

“Worst you’ll do is say no!” Cove’s voice broke on a sob and he tangled their legs together. His hand gripped at Westley’s back, the other pressed over his heart, fingers anxious and tight.

“Never.” Westley couldn’t believe this, what could Cove want? He’d never acted like this before, like he was so sure Westley would reject him, like the very action of asking the question would send him away. Cove was trembling in his arms, muscles coiled and shaking, goosebumps rising on his back and neck. Westley leaned over the edge of the bed to grab the discarded blanket, covering them both and tucking them in. “Cove, it’s okay, I promise.”

“I, I just. You’ve been a little distant, lately, and s-spacey. You get lost in thought a lot, and at first I just thought you were awkward a-about sharing a bed like I was but nothing has changed since then and I’ve been freaking out about it and…” The words left Cove in a rush, stuttered between gasping breaths and shaking sobs. “And sometimes you talk in your sleep. You say my name and beg me to stay but I can’t Westley.”

Westley’s heart stopped at those words. He froze completely, not even breathing, whatever Cove continued to go on to say washing over him. Was Cove going to break up with him? But he just asked him to go to California, to go home with him, surely that meant he wanted to stay with Westley? Right? But, he said Westley was spacey? Lost in thought?

The ring.

The stupid fucking ring stashed away at the bottom of his trunk. Westley's entire future in a single golden band. The only thing in this world he could focus on more than Cove. Of course this would be the thing that ruins their relationship. He didn’t even have to say the fucking words, just the general idea of marrying him had Cove pushing him away.

And why wouldn’t he? Cove would go back to California and be perfect and beautiful and sun kissed and meet some dashing surfer dude who knew about ancient runes and wizard math right off the top of his head instead of having to spend many late nights reading Cove’s notes so he could keep up with the nerds crazy ramblings. Westley would be left in Scotland to rot alone, forever. Maybe he could convince Robby and Maria to cast unforgivables on him at the same time. It's what he deserves, and what was Hufflepuff loyalty for but helping your mate in their self-flagellation. 

“-ley! Westley!” Cove was yelling and smacking his chest, voice panicked. “Babe, breathe.” Westley sucked in a heaving breath, relaxing his hold and letting Cove push away from his chest. He took Westley’s face in his hands, blue eyes sharp with determination. “Can you listen to me please?”

Westley nodded, pressing kisses to the heel of Cove’s palms each time his chin ducked in his hold. 

“I miss California. I can’t stay here, not permanently. I wanna go home, Westley.” Cove’s eyes welled with tears again, and he clearly choked on his next words. His gaze searched Westley’s, looking for something , and he apparently found it in the lovestruck devotion Westley always felt when he looked at Cove. “I don’t want you to come for a visit. I want you to move in with me.”

Westley really was an idiot. He didn’t even think about that. He jumped straight to marriage, and here Cove was being sensible asking a normal question. Like more halfway across the world with me. Cove was still talking, something about apartments and his mom and a place called Sunset Bird, but Westley couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Yes.”

“What?!” Cove squeaked, eyes wide and face burning. “Really?”

“Yes. Yes of course, were you not listening? I will follow you anywhere, for as long as you want me to. You could tell me you wanted to live at the North Pole and be Santa’s apprentice and I’d say okay, let me go find a nice Mrs.Claus dress and apron, I’ll bake you cookies.” 

“Westley!” Cove dissolved into giggles, nose wrinkling and breath hitching. “You hate winter, you’d never want to live at the North Pole.”

“I wanna live with you, eternal winter or not. California sounds like a dream Cove, please. I would love to move in with you.”

They melt into each other, holding on tight and whispering words of affection. Westley maps Cove’s body with his hands, kisses away his tears and thanks him. He thinks, for just a second, that maybe Cove would say yes too.

“Cove?”

“Mhmm?” Cove’s fingers were trailing through his hair, tugging at the strands that curled along the nape of his neck.

“Would you say yes if I asked you to marry me?” Cove pulled hard, glaring up at him. “Ow! What the hell you little brat?”

“Westley.” His voice was bratty and chastising again, a little wobbly as his eyes watered, and Westley loved it. He wanted to burn this image into his eyelids so he could see it every time he blinked. “You can’t joke about that. I’m a big crybaby, teasing me like that is mean.”

Westley almost rushed to correct him, to tell him he wasn’t teasing and was completely serious. Almost scrambled off the bed to tear through his trunk and drop to one knee in front of Cove. Instead, he took a rare moment to think about his actions, to take in where they were. 

Their bed was a mess, sheets and blankets half on the floor and their clothes strewn about. Westley’s wand needed to be found so he could clean them up and they needed to start moving soon or else they’d risk running late for the train. They were both sweaty and sticky and tired, raw and emotional from all that had already happened and it wasn’t even 9 am. It was nothing like the beachside proposal Westley had pictured a million times before, nor was it the poppy field behind his house that Cove had fallen in love with last summer and Westley had as plan B.  

“Oh my crybaby, how I adore you.” Westley said instead, pressing his lips to Cove’s, soothing a hand over his head. “I’m sorry dearest, I’ll stop.”

They’d be in California in less than two weeks. He could ask there, on a beach, with the sun low in the sky and the wind warm and calm. If Cove said no, then Westley could just walk into the ocean. 

He pressed another kiss to Cove’s lips and settled in against him. They could doze until Westley’s alarm went off properly, then rush around their room collecting things and trying to make it not so obvious what they were up to this morning. Cove huffed against him, seemingly fine with ditching the topic.

“I love you.” Cove whispered, soft and breathy and oh so sincere. Westley felt his stress melt away and any panic about accidentally proposing fizzled. 

“I love you too, Cove.” They somehow shifted closer together, and Westley drifted off to start planning a proposal he would actually follow through with.