Title: Stay Still
Name: la_dissonance (yup, still me.)
Prompt: #095 - Rugby, mud, black eye, changing rooms.
Word Count: 965
Betas: asnowyowl
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I have nothing to say for myself. (There is no porn AAAAAAHHH) Oh right, other than thank you, once again, to asnowyowl for being the most incredible beta of all time and for being utterly insane with me. It's been a blast!
Summary: A first kiss.

Scorpius was nervous. And he didn't know why, nor how he had ended up here. Well, no. He did know that part.

The Gryffindors had started it. Or rather, James Potter had. Oh, how Scorpius hated the Potters. Especially James Potter. Especially the things he said - claiming the Slytherins were too scared to play a simple Muggle game, for one. They weren't scared, they just had more common sense than to engage in a game whose sole objective seemed to be knocking down whoever was carrying the ball.

Scorpius's friends hadn't remembered this until too late. The idiots.

Everything was going as well as it could until Scorpius went down, ploughed into the churned up ground by what felt like several tons of pummelling, flailing Weasleys. He hadn't even had the ball. Just as soon, they were off him – storming off in the direction of the ball, wherever it was, annihilating anything in their wake. Scorpius unsteadily regained his feet. He felt a bit annihilated himself.

The game went on, though, and Scorpius managed to make a couple of plays himself even though one eye wouldn't open and his nose had definitely been bleeding when he got up. Now it just felt clogged.

The game was eventually called a draw when it became too dark to see, and Scorpius gladly gathered his discarded robes off the bleachers, shook a few clods of mud out of his hair, and made to follow his friends when a shout stopped him.

"Malfoy! Hold up a minute!"

James, it appeared, did not think it politic for a Slytherin to be seen walking into the castle looking like a victim of medieval torture right after a game with the Gryffindors.

"Oi! Anyone here good at healing charms?"

All heads in the milling group of Gryffindors surrounding James turned toward the middle Potter brat. He seemed to shrink a little where he was standing.

"Al! Nearly forgot you were here! Just take Malfoy here into the changing rooms and see what you can do, all right?" James grabbed Scorpius's shoulder roughly and propelled him toward the other boy.

Which was how Scorpius found himself following a slouching Albus Potter alone into the Quidditch changing rooms, accompanied only by one last cry of "Patch you up in no time!" from James.

"Prat," the dark haired boy mumbled and then quickly added, "James, not you."

Scorpius nodded and shuffled around aimlessly. His face seemed to hurt more now than it had before.

"You could sit over there," Al said, indicating one of the benches that ran down the center of the room.

Scorpius lifted one mud-stiff leg over the bench and sat.

Al came over from the basins and sat down in front of Scorpius. Scorpius fought the sudden urge to inch backwards.

"Um, maybe you should close your eyes – your eye." Al was holding a gently steaming flannel in one hand.

Scorpius didn't close his eye. "What're you doing with that?"

"Thought I'd clean up the area a bit so I could actually see what I'm doing. Not to mention hygiene."

"And you couldn't do this with magic?"

"No, I couldn't. I don't know any cleaning charms gentle enough." He started industriously swabbing Scorpius's face.

"Didn't James say you were good at this kind of thing?" Scorpius asked as he resignedly closed his eye.

"James says a lot of things," Al grumbled.

"He really is a right prick, isn't he?"

"Yes," Al said with feeling.

"Can't imagine having to live with him my entire life," Scorpius said. He shuddered slightly at the thought and Al absently shushed him into stillness.

"Believe me, if you can't imagine, that's a good thing." Al got up to rinse out the flannel.

He sat back down and began dabbing around Scorpius's eye again. Scorpius felt those inexplicable nerves, which he had all but forgotten when they started talking, gather again in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat. Al shushed him.

There was the sound of the flannel being put down, and then Al's hand unexpectedly cupped the side of Scorpius's head, half tangling in his hair.

"Stay still," Al warned.

Al's fingers touched Scorpius's face and his fingertips, soothingly cool, ghosted around Scorpius's swollen eye. Scorpius held his breath. He didn't think he could move if he wanted to, but he couldn't stay still either. He could feel each and every one of Al's touches.

Scorpius cracked open an eye. It only made the feeling worse – Al was looking at him like something. Scorpius closed it again before Al could tsk at him, but it was too late. His stomach was already going in knots.

Al's questing fingers stilled and his hand on Scorpius's head seemed to grow heavier. And just like that, Scorpius felt warm lips press against his own, softly, deliberately. The angle wasn't quite right; Al's nose was too close to Scorpius's and it pressed and he remembered that his nose had been sore, too. Scorpius's heart hammered in his chest.

Al's hand stayed in Scorpius's hair after he drew back, and he traced the perimeter of the black eye one more time. "These are really simple to fix. No cuts or anything; just a lot of swelling." He reached for his wand and there was a cool spot on Scorpius's head where his hand had been.

"Wait," he said, opening his good eye. His heart was still hammering and the nerves were building up into some kind of thrill.

Al looked up, surprised.

"Wait," Scorpius repeated. He didn't know what to say. He had never been kissed by a bloke before.

Al looked at him uncertainly.

"If I closed my eyes, would you do that again?"

Al looked terrified and ecstatic, which was exactly how Scorpius felt.

"Yeah, I would."