A/n: I love this so much. This was inspired by the pancakes I ate this morning, appreciate ya.
(Requests and blurbs are open)
Summary: in which Harry makes breakfast for you… sort of.
The sun peeked through your bedroom window, the vibrant gleam casting a light on the soft cotton wrapped around your body as you sink deeper into the sheets.
Your arm indistinctively reaches for Harry, but all you are met with is a cold and empty surface.
Curiously, your eyes flutter open at his absence, nothing but the sounds of melodious chirping and your slow breaths were heard while concern falls on your features.
You quickly untangle yourself from the sheets, stumbling as you tiredly tiptoe across the room, grabbing one of Harry’s shirts to cover your exposed skin.
Gripping the handle of the door, you swing it open as a yawn escapes your lips, the pungent and sweet smell of breakfast peculiarly fill your lungs.
The closer you got, the more pervasive the aroma became, but instead of hearing the familiar sound of birds echoing in your ears, you were faced with the faint rhythmic hums of Harry’s voice projecting from the kitchen.
You leaned against the kitchen door, inspecting silently as he poured the mixture, leveling the batter by swirling it in the silver pan and watched as it cooked against the heat of the stove.
He didn’t seem to notice your presence as he began to increase the volume of the small radio beside him, completely encapsulated by the music escaping from the small box while his head lightly swayed with the chorus.
His humming turning into quiet singing as he successfully flips the pancake. It was a sight to see to say the least, for one, he wasn’t wearing a shirt which allowed you to see the dips in his back and the curves in his broad shoulders while the black ink from his tattoos are exposed on his arms.
But what really brought a smile to your face was the soft melody escaping his lips and the thought of him making breakfast for the both of you, even if he was piled with other business priorities.
You notice the song fade out and his voice start to return to a hum, his body still softly swaying as he looks over the pancake.
“Harry.” You say suddenly, causing him to flinch and drop the metal spachelor onto the floor as his attention turns to you.
“Shit!” He mutters, grabbing the utensil and tossing it in the sink, his gaze softening as he meets yours.
“Sorry bub.” You say with a taunting gleam in your eyes, sauntering closer towards him with a small smile.
“How long have yeh been standing there?” He questions.
“Never mind that, what on earth are you doing up so early in the morning?” You ask, making your way to the counter next to the stove and pushing yourself up, allowing you to sit and watch while he cooks.
“I thought I could surprise yeh with breakfast, I know I usually don’t have much time to do things like this, so I decided since it’s m'day off, why not treat ourselves.” He explains with a boyish grin, placing himself in front of you.
“Oh Harry, you didn’t have to do that.” Your voice falters as you twirl one of the loose curls hanging off the side of his face with your index finger.
His gaze travels down and instantly, he cocks his head to one side as a hint of a smile plays on his lips.
“I see y'wearing my shirt, I was looking for it everywhere.”
“So it seems.” You say teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, his soft lips brushing against yours as you pull him into a kiss.
It was soft and full of passion as his fingers glide across your back only adding to the butterflies in your stomach.
But you quickly break the kiss, causing his eyes to narrow in confusion as you begin to notice the familiar scent of smoke coming from the stove.
“Bub, I think your pancakes are burning.” You inform him, letting out a small chuckle.
He immediately breaks away from your arms, flustered by your words as he flips the pancake onto a seperate plate placed on the counter.
“Oh- well tha’s not very good is it.” His disappointed gaze lingering on the noticeably burnt pancake. You mockingly roll your eyes at him, jumping off the counter and stepping in front of the stove.
“Alright out of the way, let the master do her thing.” You playfully shove his shoulder causing him to move further away from the stove as you grab the pancake batter and pour some onto the pan.
He amusingly shakes his head, turning up the volume of the radio and sitting on the same spot on the counter you were on previously, watching as you sway to the melody of the song.
“Don’t burn the pancakes love.”
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