HP one shots

The Care and Keeping of Potters // Sirry

Summary:

"You know," he says, and by some miracle his voice doesn't shake, "the first time I saw you, I thought you were the handsomest man I'd ever seen."
In which Sirius Black is an alpha, Harry Potter is an omega, and life has a way of working itself out—even if it takes longer than we'd like.

Prompt: omegaverse, wholesome, happy ending

so, the omegaverse part isn't as overt as i've written it before, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this dialogue hit me out of nowhere, and i couldn't get it out of my head
____________________________________

As the front door to Sirius's townhouse shuts behind him, Harry has only a moment to question what he's doing here—whether he made a mistake in coming, whether Sirius will even want him here—before Sirius calls out. "Harry," he says, "is that you?"

"Yeah," Harry calls back, setting off down the hall.

Too late to back out now.

Before he can get too far, Sirius appears in the doorway to the kitchen, a concerned furrow in his brow. "I thought you had a date tonight."

Harry steps into the arms that open as soon as he's in reach. Rubbing his cheek on Sirius's shoulder, letting the comforting scent of him pool over his tongue, he says, "Me too."

Sirius catches on quick, lets out a hurt noise. "Oh, sweetheart," he says, stroking Harry's hair.

"I really liked him."

Sirius's arms tighten around him, then abruptly relax. "I know you did." Before Harry can even begin to think of what to say next, Sirius asks, "Have you eaten?"

"No," Harry admits; they hadn't gotten that far when his date walked out the door.

"C'mon then." Sirius shepherds him into the sitting room, depositing him on the couch that Harry relaxes into by sheer force of habit. "I'll be right out with dinner."

"But—"

"Nope!" Sirius interrupts. "No protests. I made too much for one, and you're doing me a favor."

Harry sighs, but he also smiles.

Typical.

Not long after, Sirius strides back into the room, two steaming bowls held in his hands. Harry rises, reaches to take one. Sirius pulls it back out of reach. "That one's mine," he says quickly. "This one"—he extends the second bowl—"is yours." At Harry's odd look, he clears his throat, looks at the bowls instead of meeting his eyes. "You hate mushrooms when you're this close to your heats, so I took them out for you."

Does he really?

He's never thought about it before. "Oh," he says for lack of anything better. He takes the bowl, holds it close to his chest as he curls up on the couch, and feels warm in more ways than one. "You track my heats?"

"Of course I do," Sirius says. Then he falters. "Is that strange?" When Harry doesn't say anything— can't say anything—he shifts in place, fidgets with his fork. It's a rare thing to see him this nervous. "Oh, Merlin, it is. Look, Harry—"

"It's fine," Harry says, recovering. He means it. "Don't—don't apologize."

Some of the tension drains from Sirius's shoulders. "Right."

"Thanks, by the way," Harry says after a few bites. He lifts his bowl at Sirius's questioning look. "For the food, but also"—he makes a broad, sweeping gesture—"everything else."

Sirius smiles. "You're welcome."

Eventually, belly comfortably full and lingering embarrassment soothed away by stories from Sirius's Hogwarts days, Harry confesses to the horribleness of his failed date.