Hey, hi, idk what this is but you can blame @harrywavycurly for the conversation we had that gave me this idea. Also, just read it and then act like I wasn’t here because wtf? 😂
You wake slowly, still tangled in warm blankets, and one hand instinctively reaches across the bed. But you’re met with cold sheets.
Blinking sleepily, you open one eye, brows pinching together as you reach out towards Harry’s side of the mattress again. Empty. It isn’t alarming, just strange considering you both had the day off. It’s honestly rare and neither of you had any plans to waste it. And Harry, despite his consistent running schedule, was usually impossible to pry out of bed before you on a day like this. For a second you just lay there, listening to the quiet hum of the house.
Then you hear it. Quiet footsteps and soft clinking coming down the hallway. The bedroom door is nudged open and Harry steps inside with a wide grin and a tray balanced carefully in his hands.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
You push yourself up, eyeing the plate. “Is that—?”
“Breakfast in bed,” he announces proudly, crossing the room. “Courtesy of your incredibly thoughtful and very handsome boyfriend.” You roll your eyes, laughing as he sets the tray across your lap.
Looking down, you notice that it’s your favorite, French toast. All completed with a dusting of powdered sugar, the perfect amount of syrup, and a cup of iced coffee.
“You did all this?” you ask, reaching for the fork.
Harry sits beside you, grabbing his tea mug off the tray, and leans back, looking far too pleased with himself. “I know, I know. It’s impressive. Please, do hold your applause.”
“Alright there, now you’re just fishing for compliments.”
He flashes a smile at you and brings the mug up for a sip. “I prefer to think of it as accepting due admiration.”
That makes you roll your eyes again, but you’re smiling as you cut into the remarkably perfectly cooked bread. The first bite is warm and melts on your tongue, the cinnamon and nutmeg lingering as you swallow.
But something about it makes you pause and steal a glance at your boyfriend.
Harry notices your gaze and sits up slightly. “What?”
You chew your next bite slowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “This tastes…” You pause, twirling your fork over the plate before pointing it at him. “Suspiciously familiar.”
His smile twitches just slightly, and he raises his tea for another sip, refusing to meet your eye.
He shrugs, staring into his tea. “No idea what you mean, love.”
“This tastes exactly like the French toast from the diner down the street.” Harry just shrugs again, trying, and failing, to look nonchalant. “Harry, you went to the diner?”
Harry lets out a dramatic sigh and rubs his fingers over the comforter. “In my defense,” he starts “there were casualties.” You just blink at him. “Three to be exact,” he finally admits.
Your jaw drops as laughter bubbles out you. “Three? Like three batches?” Harry glares at the comforter now and you have to roll your eyes again at his antics. You tap his hand softly and his eyes meet yours as he pouts. “Seriously, three baches?”
Harry sighs and his one hand waves around as he explains. “Well, the first one was undercooked, which honestly was confusing. The second one somehow became charcoal. And the third…” He winces. “I don’t want to talk about the third.”
“I had to open every window in the kitchen,” he says, dropping his head back against the headboard. “And I might’ve singed that blue apron with the flowers on it.”
You start properly laughing, nearly dropping your fork “So all of this is fraud?”
His face scrunches in indignation. “No! Absolutely not.” Harry points at the tray. “All of that love and effort is very much homemade, thank you. The French toast itself just had to be…outsourced.”
You’ve stopped laughing, but you’re smiling as you lean over and kiss his cheek. “Well thank you, honey.” You take another bite. “And for the record, I think your burnt French toast would’ve been perfect.”
Harry grins as you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Your grin widens. “And I would’ve happily eaten at least two bites before chucking it out the window behind your back for the squirrels to have.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry leans towards you and stops your laughter with a kiss. He falls back again, settling into the pillows and sets his hand on your thigh.
“Good,” he said. “Because on our next day off, we’re gonna go get a new skillet and we’re trying again. I will have my revenge.”
That makes you laugh out loud. You cut another piece of toast and bring it towards your mouth before you stop suddenly. Fork still held aloft, you turn your face towards your boyfriend. “Wait, why do we need a new skillet?”
