“Don’ leave me t’day. S’rainin’ and and I wan’ t’ stay in bed all day wi’you,” he grumbled, his voice tired and straining from the sleep still lingering in his dry throat, his words cracking and his speech going hoarse as the words rolled off of his tongue. “S’pourin’ down out there. We can just stay in bed and never leave my bed. How good does tha’ sound?”
As background noise, the rain falling from the sky could be heard through the closed bedroom windows, hitting the top of his car as well as the bins set around his house to hold the rubbish from his kitchen bin over a week. Soft and distinct yet loud bangs of thunder could be heard in the distance, the bedroom of Harry’s home darkened with a grey atmosphere emitting from the clouds in the sky; a colour more associated with the late night hours rather than nine o’clock in the morning. Waking up that morning with Harry’s body sprawled out and stretched along his mattress, and with the sound being heard around the bedroom, you didn’t want to leave the comforts and the warmth coming from around you.
A bedroom you had become so accustomed to waking up and falling asleep in, as well as a bedroom you had become accustomed in partaking in activities that required to be beneath the sheets. A bedroom you hated leaving because it meant that you had to leave the extravagance of Harry’s bedroom and go back to your own that you considered nothing when comparing against his. And when it came to changing atmospheres from a warm and filled-to-the-brim-with-love bedroom, it made your mood change entirely.
“Harry, I need to go back to my flat and get some clean clothes for today. I don’t exactly want to stay in this, do I?” You stated, looking down at your stained t-shirt from the night before – spaghetti sauce from the dinner Harry had made for you and wine from a glass that Harry had knocked from your hand by accident dotting around the material beneath the neckline – and your jeans that you’d taken to putting on as soon as you left the warmth and the comforts of the duvet upon Harry’s bed. “I’ll get a taxi home, get changed and then I’ll come right back, I promise.”
You didn’t want to leave him and his home to go out as the skies opened up more. All you wanted was to stay with him, cuddled up in bed, but your stained t-shirt was screaming to be washed and your legs clad in your uncomfortable jeans were screaming to be changed for something better and more comfortable.
“I have clothes,” he pointed out, leaning up on his forearms and shuffling his legs around beneath the white comforter. His legs bare and coming into contact with the room, as he used his feet to kick the thick blanket-type comforter off of his body. A smirk on his lips as he watched you button your jeans at your waist – the denim material being taken off before you got comfortably upon Harry’s bed, turning down the idea of wearing his clothes through the night when he had offered through the bathroom door as he went about his nightly routine.
“I know you do, Harry. Everybody has clothes,” you teased, sitting down upon the edge of the bed and reaching for your shoes. “I’ll be an hour tops. I might stop off for breakfast and get us some food from Starbucks,” you grunted, hunching over and tugging on your trainers and adjusting the laces tighter and securing them on your feet.
“No,” he whined, drawing out the vowel, and dropping himself back against the bed behind him. “Jus’ stay here and wear my clothes. I have t-shirts and shorts you can wear,” he reasoned, rubbing the heels of his hands against his sleepy eyes and brushing the tiredness from the corners. Even after the copious hours of sleep – his tired figure finding itself slouching on the sofa the previous night as you watched a film on his TV. “Don’ leave me t’day.”
“Harry, I’ve been here al night,” you sighed, his body shuffling up on the bed and changing his position from his laid down stature. The mattress moving with each movement he made to get closer to you. His legs wrapping around your waist with his crossed ankles sitting in your lap. His toes wiggling as he shuffled comfortably behind you. “Harry, you big lump,” you mumbled beneath his weight, his arms wrapping around your neck and pulling you gently back against his chest.
“Take those shoes off. Take those jeans off. And take that dirty t-shirt off,” he murmured against your ear before you felt his his lips curve into a devilish smile.
A soft squeal left your throat as he rolled back, his back hitting the bed as he held you on top of his body. The heels of your trainers knocking against his shins as the movement jolted your body, a heavy sigh disguised as a laugh leaving Harry’s lips, leaving the both of you in a fit of bumbling laughter. His chest rumbling and expanding with his laugh that left his mouth; a sound that was sweet and soft and at the top of a list of your favourite sounds.
“I knew you wanted me naked,” you giggled, dropping your head back against his bare shoulder. His ominous whines and cheeky comments all coming together as you felt his hands sneak beneath your t-shirt. His fingers tickling along your hips and sending shiver through your spine. “Harry, I want food. We need to go and get food.”
And a Starbucks bacon sandwich was something on your mind, with a cup of tea on the side as a beverage to wash it down. After having a sparse amount of public dates between you and Harry, a breakfast date sounded perfect. Settling down in a coffee shop and spicing up where you ate – rather than sitting at a dining room table in either yours or Harry’s kitchen – experimenting and getting as much fresh air outside of the four walls, as best as you could.
“And I have food downstairs. Just, please. Stay here wi’ me. We can even get Niall t’ drop some food off for us if we get too lazy,” he suggested, his lips brushing over your hair. “I’m leaving again soon for tour, ‘n I just want t’ be with you as long as I can before I’m away for months,” he sighed.
With a second world tour being announced just weeks prior, he hadn’t kept back that he was going to miss you. With the first date in just 3 months time, and with him being gone for almost 9 months, he wanted to squeeze in as much time together as he could before he was stripped of your company and deprived of your touch and kisses. Squeezing in dates and trips back to Cheshire to see his mother and private moments behind the bedroom door had become a common thing for you, with him hot on your heels pretty much wherever you went with his arms wrapped around your waist and always making sure part of his body was touching you. Whether you were walking down the streets or sitting on the sofa, he made sure he had a hold of you – his hand lodged between yours, an arm thrown over your shoulders as you walked down the streets, his legs strewn across your lap or his head resting upon your shoulder as you lounged on the sofa to watch a programme you’d been meaning to catch up on or his ankles hooked around your own as you laid in bed after a busy night of love-making and kissing.
He knew you would visit. You always found a way to visit when he was on tour.
It was just the idea of leaving on the first day and not knowing how long he would have to wait until he had you back by his side.
“Hey, I’m going to come and visit, Harry. You know, if you need me to come and visit, all you have to do is ask me,” you grinned, resting your palms around his wrists; his wrists still hanging in front of you from where his arms were resting upon your shoulders. “Besides, I’ve got a big few weeks off work coming up, and you know where I’m going to be spending that?”
“Sleeping in your own bed? Binge eating whilst waiting for me to come back? Or binge watching crap shows to pass the time?” He teased, a hint of humour and amusement in his voice.
“No, actually. I looked over that schedule you were given by management. You know the one you left on your desk in your office? And I’ll be flying out to you when you’re in Mexico,” you grinned, your lips pressing against the spot between his thumb and his forefinger. “I’ll fly out as soon as I can and I’m with you for about a month when you tour South America.”
“Oh, so, we can go to Peru and Brazil together? Do some sight-seeing together?” He wondered excitedly. “We can go to Christ the Redeemer and Machu Picchu and take photos and be all romantic and spend time together,” he grinned, his lips pressed against the spot behind your ear.
It sounded wonderful.
And hiking and travelling together had been topic of your pillow talk at night, when the sun had disappeared and the moon was bright and large in the sky, the nightlife below going quiet with the odd car driving down the street.
“And you think that being romantic is hiking in the hot weather?”
You could only begin to imagine the picturesque view at the top, yet, the hiking and the walking and heat was something you had to compromise with if it meant spending time with a man who enjoyed travelling and snapping shots of his journeys.
“I can carry you?” He grinned, his legs unwrapping from around your waist and falling to the bed, his feet just inches from touching the carpet of his bedroom. “Have you seen these biceps? They’re almost the size of your head.”
“You’re so vain,” you grumbled, tilting your head and sighing. “Can you get me some clothes? I don’t really want to leave you now. You’re so cuddly. Like a teddy-bear. My safe place and my favourite place.”
“You know, I’ve been called some things in my, but I’ve never once been called a teddy-bear by my own girlfriend,” he chuckled, watching as you toed off your trainers and body-rolled over upon his naked front. Your front pressed against his bare chest, your forearms resting upon the bed beside his head with your fingers raking through his long curls. “We don’t have to leave the bed, if you don’t want too. You have no reason t’ go home, you know that? You’ve got a toothbrush here, which you may want to use on your god-damn awful and smelly morning breath right now,” he teased, your eyes widening and your cheeks blushing. Your palm swatting at his shoulder creating a wince from his throat. “M’jokin’. M’serious though, aren’t I? You have a toothbrush here. You have a drawer ready for your clothes. You use my hairbrush and my hairdryer and even my hairspray after your showers. You can wear my clothes when we lay around my house. And if I remember rightly, one of your blankets is laid across the back of my sofa,” he grinned.
“S’only the same for you. When you stay at mine, you leave t-shirts in my dryer that I either have to bring here or keep in my wardrobe, and you left your juice-cup at mine the other day when you arrived on my doorstep with that awful-smelling kale smoothie,” you grinned, your knees straddling his thighs as you pushed up on your hands. “And I know for a fact I’ve got a couple of your hair ties sitting on my sink. And they aren’t mine because mine are black, and yours are brown,” you smirked, the corners of your lips twitching as you watched his teeth appear beneath the slight sunlight creeping through the curtains of his bedroom; the rain seeming to have arrived at a stop with the atmosphere of the bedroom becoming a warmer colour. “Also, I’m sure you left a bottle of your cologne at mine when you got ready for an award show in my flat.”
Settled on a shelf behind your bathroom mirror, in between a bottle of your own perfume and your moisturiser, sat a bottle of his Tom Ford cologne.
“Ah, yeah. I remember that. My wardrobe was a mess and I had Gemma come and sort it out, didn’t I?” He chuckled, looking over at the door for the walk-in wardrobe built in beside his bathroom. A wardrobe that had been reorganised by his sister who was shocked at the sight she walked in to when looking for a pair of boots she needed. “I had to take my suit to your flat and get changed in your very tiny bathroom.”
“S’not tiny for me. It’s only tiny for a giant like you,” you retorted, your finger poking at the dimple of his cheeks.
“Hey, m’not a giant. I just happen to be abnormally tall,” he slurred tiredly, a grin on his lips as he tilted his head to your touch and closed his eyes.
“Oh, you are indeed. Double my height,” you whispered, pressing your lips against his cheek and letting your flesh linger longer than normal. Stubble forming ever so lightly-coloured upon his skin, tickling and prickling at your lips as you applied pressure to the kiss. A snort leaving his mouth as he closed his green eyes and sighed softly.
“You’re a donut,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to his body. Heat radiating from his tanned and bare skin. “But, I love you.”
“I love you too, mister. I love you too.”

Notes

I really want this to become a real life thing that I get to experience this with Harry; it’s not fair that he walks around looking so good and I’m not allowed to have cuddles or kisses with him.