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Draco’s unsure when it all changed. One day, he’d been embroiled in his hatred of Potter—which he’d always suspected might be a cover for his own self-loathing—and then…Eyes meeting in a coffee shop. Potter giving him a small nod, that microscopic overture. Then, the chasm-crossing explosion that followed: “Hi.” Just Potter being quietly and strategically decimating.It left Draco too stunned to speak, to nod, to anything. He’d ordered, got the wrong drink, didn’t care, couldn’t. Potter had walked through his life again, his departing back through the door, easy, the wool of his coat touching the ends of his hair which curled a bit at his collar.Draco’s unsure when that changed too. When one word progressed to an exchange, the exchange to a conversation. Sitting together, talking, sipping tea and coffee and watching the day like it was something outside of them both, the two of them nonparticipants, observers of lives that weren’t connected to their own.And yet theirs were connected to each other. This went unsaid. It was only a feeling.Draco wasn’t sure how he could know Potter felt it too.He’s unsure when mornings became evenings. When they traded coffee for cocktails. When they achieved the privacy of one another’s flats.He doesn’t know who reached for whom. He only knows he feels like he’s been touching Potter forever, and starved of him at the same time.Their love-making tends to be propulsive, forward-moving, goal-oriented. They like it hard, striving, wordless. And yet, as they pant in one another’s faces, their gazes meet. Hold. Stay. Draco remembers that first hello in the coffee shop every time. Remembers that first eye contact. Remembers Potter’s messy hair touching his collar, as Draco slides his hands into it while Potter pushes helplessly into his body.He never would have called them simple. Everything was always complex between them. He’s unsure how they got here from there……to Draco seeing Potter’s reflection in the window glass, Potter seeing him see and smiling. Potter’s hand up Draco’s bare back, his arm wrapping around him and pulling their bodies close. Potter’s erection pressed against him from behind and yet neither of them in a hurry now. Both of them knowing it can wait. It will be there. This thing they have is steady, shockingly so.Potter’s hand laying possessive claim to him, low on Draco’s belly where his joggers slip down.“Hi,” Potter says against his ear.“Hi,” Draco answers, turns his head enough for the kiss he knows Potter wants, that Draco wants to give.He’s unsure when it happened, when they became these versions of themselves, when they exhaled with one another, when it all stopped and started again and became…This.Became everything he’d never known he was allowed to want. When they became each other and themselves entirely.Became, finally, so very simple.