Rated T. Short fluff.
Pairing: Harry/Bob A/N: Takes place after the series opener. Hope y'all enjoy, and if anyone can tell me the mother and son's name I would be forever grateful. I am sure the characterization is off, but hopefully I'll get a better grip on it over the next few episodes. Cheers, Slrmn82.
Harry rolled painfully out of bed when he could no longer ignore the sunshine pouring through his bedroom window. It was one o'clock in the afternoon and he was content to go downstairs in just a pair of sweatpants. He looked and felt beat up and was still exhausted. His face was bruised, although no longer bloody, and he was moving like an old woman with terrible arthritis.
He had avoided both Murphy and Laura's calls last night, both to yell at him demanding answers. Neither of which did he have to give. In fact Harry was quite content to mope.
"You know your life is screwed when you prefer the companionship of your pet sorcerer trapped in a skull, to real live women." Harry grumbled disconsolately from between the palms of his hands.
"I do beg your pardon." Bob sneered sarcastically, although with his accent it could have just as easily been foreplay. "I am not your pet anything, Harry."
"Can't a man bitch about his life in the kitchen of his own house without a skull getting snippy?"
Bob sniffed disdainfully, his aristocratic nose high in the air. Harry smiled slightly. He so enjoyed watching the centuries-old sorcerer having a snit. Even that was classy on the man, damn it.
"I thought having saved the life of a small boy and reuniting him with his mother was a good thing." Bob pointed out. "My mistake, then. As you say… bitch away."
"A little sympathy wouldn't go amiss you know." Harry answered back wearily, rubbing his temples gingerly.
"Oh poor baby." Bob answered sarcastically, moving closer until he stood directly behind Harry's bent back. Harry thought he felt a slight pressure on his left shoulder but with fatigue weighing his head down he couldn't be sure. "There, there."
Half asleep once again, Harry moved into the cool pressure on his forehead. Slitting his eyes opened to half-mast he saw Bob bent over him, concentrating to keep his form corporeal, running his fingers over Harry's fevered forehead soothingly.
"Knew you cared." Harry mumbled sarcastically as he drifted back into sleep.
"Indeed." Bob answered after he was sure Harry was no longer listening, sweeping his fingers through the wizard's dark hair lovingly. "Indeed."