everything
or, the one where Harry's tired and lovie is his saving grace.
[part 2: anything]
also known as 1.3k of absolute fluff and nothing else. lemme know if you enjoyed this, i'd be happy to take a few requests <3
requests go here:)
masterlist
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"Baby, y'home?"
"I'm in the kitchen, Har."
Upon walking into the kitchen, Harry was greeted with a sight he was sure would be etched into his memory for eternity—his lovie dressed in one of his black 'treat people with kindness' hoodies, bare-legged and socked feet—which he's pretty sure were still the same clothes that she slept in the night before—, hair a right mess but yet still so effortlessly gorgeous, he thought she most definitely was an angel sent from the Heavens above to be cherished and loved just by him. Putting a tea bag into a gray mug with a cartoon cow painted on it, but still looking so ethereal should be illegal, Harry thought.
"Hi, baby girl," he smiled softly at her. A barely there smile was all he could muster after a day of studio recordings, meetings and conversations he's heard millions of times before.
"Hi, Har," she almost whispered after hearing the tone of his greeting, immediately knowing what he needed. Some loving and gentle touches, a warm cup of tea in bed and total silence, because she knows when he looks and sounds as tired as he is right now, all he can hear is buzzing in his ears and feel an irritating ache in his head and muscles.
Watching his darling slowly turn around and give him the most beautiful smile he's ever seen, all he wanted to do was scoop her up in a bone-crushing hug and never let go. If it was up to him, the only way he'd ever let her go from the hug was if a force so strong physically forced him to let go of her body. And Harry honestly doesn't think a force that powerful exists.
"Y'get more gorgeous everytime I see ya, y'know? How d'you do that?"
He watches as she giggles softly and blushes, shyly tucking a piece of her messy hair behind her ear, "stop, Har. Y'know I haven't changed from my pyjamas I was wearing this morning when y'left for work. Just c'mere," she opens her arms and awaits for the hug she knows she's about to get.
Harry slowly walks towards her and smiles again—or not again, Harry's sure his smile hasn't gone away since he entered their home just from the thought of seeing his lovie—, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and feeling her dainty arms squeeze around his middle. This is actual heaven, Harry thinks.
"Want some tea, honey?" she asks, even though she's already got the kettle on and the mug ready. She just knows Harry like that, and Harry knows that she knows him like that, and that makes him come to a realisation that he doesn't think the amount of love he feels for her can be described by any existing word in the English language. Or any other language, in fact.
"Tha' would be nice, darling. Y'have a nice day? What'd you do?"
"Nothin' much, to be honest. Cleaned up a bit, went through some of y'books in the library. Oh, I also changed y'sheets to the purple ones y'like so much. Know you sleep the best with 'em." They stand still, wrapped up in their warm cocoon, and she slowly starts to stroke her fingertips across his back under his white shirt.
"I sleep best 'cause you're wrapped up in my arms, lovie, doesn't matter if m'sheets are the most beautiful purple color and feel like silk or if they're dirty, ripped up rags. But thank you, lovie. Y'are the absolute best, baby." The soft pads of her fingertips on his tense back make Harry feel sleepy, and he's pretty sure he feels himself swaying just a tiny bit.
Her heart feels mushy and her insides feel warm from the sweet words his raspy voice talks into her neck, and the goosebumps that litter her body, she's sure represent the intensity of her feelings she's feeling on the inside.
"Ever the charmer, Har. The kettle's boilin', baby, let me make you your tea," she says as she slowly unveils herself from his grip.
Harry barely surpresses a pathetic whine he desperately wants to let out, because he really doesn't want to let her go. She's so warm, and soft, and smells like his vanilla body wash she steals from him all the time and he never wants to let her out of his embrace. But somebody has to make the tea.
"Y'know, I still haven't gotten a kissy yet. What's tha' about, lovie?" he crosses his toned arms and legs and leans on the counter beside her where she's pouring hot water into two mugs.
She puts the kettle down and mirrors his position and tilts her head to the side, "oh? And what should we do about that?"
"I dunno, perhaps give your man a kissy? Because he's really desperate for one. Pretty sure he's about to pass out from kissy shortage," he says with a serious expression on his face and raises his eyebrows.
She giggles at his stupid joke but still shies away—diverts her eyes to the tiles at the bottom of his kitchen island and nervously plays with her fingers. He says some stupid joke (kissy shortage? really?), yet the look he gives her and the thought of him kissing her, even after 7 months of dating, still makes her shy. How can one be so cute?, Harry thinks.
"C'mere, my man, since y'want one so bad," she opens her arms and puckers her lips dramatically as she waits for her kiss.
Harry laughs at the absolute ball of cuteness in front of him and wraps his strong limbs around her for the second time that evening.
He starts off with a soft press of their lips, and when he immediately feels that this just won't do, he lifts her up on the counter beside the steaming mugs of tea and plops her down softly on her bum.
She tightens her hold around his neck and feels the desperation and neediness in his kisses. The pressing together of their lips gets stronger with every second. And when he tilts her head to the side with his big palms on her cheeks and touches her bottom lip with his tongue she knows he's showing her just how much he's missed her.
Slowly opening her mouth to let his tongue slip past the barrier and gently touch with hers, she also wraps her thighs around his hips and brings him in even closer—so close that almost no spaces are left between them and Harry knows that that's how she's showing that she's missed him just as much.
Soft and gentle swipes of their tongues and small strings of saliva that keep their lips together even when they part for air. Soft scratches of her nails against his scalp that make him let out throaty groans from deep within his throat to show his appreciation.
That's how lovie shows how well she knows her other half. The loving, the gentle touches.
Slowly pulling away, leaving barely an inch between their slick lips, she quietly whispers, "go get changed. I'll get the tea and wait for you in bed, baby. Hurry up before it gets cold."
Tea and silence in bed. That's also how she shows that she knows what and when to say or do to make him feel relaxed, loved and cared for.
Harry smiles at her and helps her jump down from the counter, watching as she walks away with the two mugs of tea in her hands and follows her upstairs to his bedroom. Watches as she sets his cup on his bedside table, then walks to her own side and sets hers there. Watches as she pulls away the purple silk comforter and gracefully gets into the bed, immediately rolling to his side to keep it warm.
And while Harry is in the bathroom brushing his teeth after getting changed, he's already thinking about whether to propose to her in Paris or somewhere off the coast of Italy.