Camping trip part 2 (Patreon)

Part 1 

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ii.

Y/N has trouble falling asleep.

Not because she was uncomfortable — she was incredibly comfortable, actually, all things considered, and more so than she had been in a while. She was snuggled close to Harry, he radiated heat like a furnace, better than any blanket that she had ever owned. It soothed tension out of her muscles and she melted against him, every dip and curve and divet of his body she felt cuddled close to her own. He smelled like warm vanilla and brought the same comfort as being held by a teddy bear.

No, all of that was the perfect set up for a good night's rest. 

What had been keeping her up was the last few words he’d said to her. “Wanted to spend more time with you,” he’d told her, which maybe it meant nothing. It most likely meant nothing, but she still replays the words over and over again in her head. Why would he want to spend more time with her? And if he did, well -- couldn’t he have just asked her to hang out or summat? Why a camping trip in the woods? She’d theorized he’d brought her here to do away with her if not for the fact there were a handful of other witnesses. 

She knows bothering with the semantics of it would do nothing but that doesn’t stop her. It doesn’t stop her from falling asleep roughly two hours after he had (nor did the chirps and chitters of the nocturnal creatures skittering around them, but any time she was worried, she would merely melt closer into Harry and he would shuffle back up against her - it did wonders to soothe her nerves), and it doesn’t stop her from committing how his body fits pressed against hers to memory. And it doesn’t stop her from waking up periodically during the night, recognizing when Harry has shifted, or when he’s pressed his nose into the dip of her throat, or how she feels his breath gently leave his mouth in small little puffs. 

So when she wakes up for the fourth or fifth time to Harry shifting positions, she really doesn’t think anything of it at first. Just assumes he got uncomfortable and was maneuvering into a different position to sleep in, but when she becomes more conscious and more aware of her surroundings she recognizes that he’s still pressed up against her like before. . .if not more than before. And he kept moving against her in these soft little brushes, irregular rolls, and through the thick, murky cloud of sleep in her brain she hears a small little whimper. 

Y/N opens her eyes, staring out into the tent that was now illuminated by the husky, hazy glow of dawn but still not bright enough that she would think they have to remove themselves from their cozy little cuddle. She becomes more aware of how close Harry is to her, and how his arm is resting around her waist, and she absolutely revels in it. Along with this, she becomes much more aware that something stiff is nudging against her bum, and when she blinks a few times. . .when she drags herself further from the bowels of her slumber. . .she realizes what’s happening. Her revelation even more pronounced by the subtle roll of his hips and groan that preceded it. 

Harry was having a good dream -- a really good dream -- and Y/N was a nice warm body beside him; she understood the situation and didn’t fault him for it. He wasn’t awake, she could tell, but his arm tightens around her and his hips rock against her. Y/N has never really been in this position before, so she isn’t a hundred percent on what to do. Was she supposed to wake him? She doesn’t know what that would do besides embarrass him and make things awkward for the rest of the trip. Plus, she feels like the same rules for sleepwalking might apply for wet dreams. What if it was a really nice dream too, with someone he really liked? If someone woke her up in the middle of that she would be beyond livid. 

But also, she feels like she’s almost invading his privacy in away. Sure, he was the one grinding against her bum, but the moment felt all too intimate, and she just couldn’t help but shake that it was not a moment for her to experience. At the risk of sounding like she was still in grade school, he didn’t like her like that -- they were friends, and friends typically don’t want you to experience them getting off (unless they’re like, really into exhibitionism). 

She bounces back and forth between what to do, all the while he intermittently rolls his hips, and she’s trying not to focus on how damp she gets between her thighs. Hell, she spends so much time mulling over it in her head, she doesn’t realize that his breathing starts to quicken until she feels him rocking against her more frequently, little rolls as his body shudders, and he moans these quiet little sounds. 

A breathy sigh of her name would have gone unheard had they not been pressed so tightly together, and Y/N questions if she just hallucinated it or if she was really asleep until it happens again, “Y/N,” it’s soft but wanton in nature, and Y/N feels a rolling tingle zip through her lower belly, “Please, baby --” his hand manages to find hers where it had laid restless over her stomach. He slots their fingers together and holds tightly, presses more firmly against her, “Oh,” he whines, and it’s too much, her heart is racing in her chest, and she’s finding it hard to keep her own breathing in check. All thoughts of doing anything at all flee as she tries to make sense of what just happened -- had she heard him correctly? Was he saying someone else’s name that just sounded like hers? 

But how could she misinterpret it when he’s moaning directly into her ear? 

She doesn’t know what to do with herself as he continues. . .doesn’t know what to do with herself when his whole body tightens up and he squeezes her hand firmly.  . .and she sure as hell doesn’t know what to do when she feels his completion wet through his pants. He came. Harry Styles got off on her and she’s sitting stock still, not knowing what to do at all. 

His body melts against her but he soon stirs, with little clears of his throat, moving fluidly until he more surely processes where he is, what he’s clinging onto, and why his trousers are wet. Y/N feels him still and it takes everything in her not to hold her breath and match his -- she just pretends to be asleep, “Oh for fuck sake,” he murmured, recoiling his hips from her before he carefully attempts to maneuver his body. He carefully scoots out of the bag, and when Y/N does a little bit of a muffled hum like you might when someone is moving around and jostling you, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Shh, just goin’ for a wee.” 

Y/N feels cold without him, but it takes all of her willpower not to crack beneath the pressure, knowing that he’s only a few feet from her. She attempts to focus on her breathing, to keep it slow and steady, keep her body from being so tense. The tent unzips, she hears him step out with a soft sigh before he zips it back up. He’s only gone for a few minutes before he returns and Y/N allows herself to peek her eyes open -- would it look more suspicious if she was still knocked out after he’d jostled her around? She doesn’t know, but she does take this time to stretch out and let a yawn overcome her. 

Harry freezes for a moment when he sees her awake, “G’morning,” his voice is deep, syrupy and low -- he’s in different sweatpants now, “Go back to bed though Babe, s’only five.” 

“Are you goin’ back to bed?” She asked, watching as he ran his knuckle underneath his nose as he sniffed. 

“Don’ think so. Might be awake for the day.” 

“Then I’ll stay awake with you,” she tells him, “Unless you wanna be alone then I’ll go back t’a bed, either-or.” 

He smiled, his eyes still puffy and soft, “I don’t mind. Reckon I didn’t want to be alone anyway.” 

Y/N thinks this is better -- to rip off the band-aid and spend time with him now rather than sleeping on what just happened and waking up awkward, forced to act normal around everyone. As long as she acted as nothing happened, she thinks he might act as nothing happened, and you know what she could deal with that. 

The day is hazy, grainy looking dawn that Y/N rarely sees because she’s rarely up this early but Harry appears to be in his element. He’s stretching out his neck, his back, easing the tension from his muscles while Y/N takes a look at all the other tents. Everyone still appears to be resting peacefully, only she and Harry disturb the morning, but she makes sure to keep her voice just above a whisper, “Do you want brekkie? I’ll pay.” 

“You paid yesterday,” Harry tsks at her but nods towards his car, “I’ll pay for the brekkie. We might as well go somewhere to sit down and wait for the stores to open --” he checks his watch again like he hadn’t just told her it was five, “--what I’m sortin’ out, is you should just get a sleeping bag but don’t bother buying another tent. Mine’s far too big for just me and you don’t need to waste any more money on camping, yeah?” 

He still wants to share a tent with her, that’s good news, “You’re sure?” 

Harry nods, “Positive.” 

                                                 .                        .                       .

Thankfully, everything is normal. 

Harry doesn’t let on that he knows anything about Y/N being awake, and apart from a few little bashful glances that she catches from him, they just hang out. They find a little diner about half an hour out with peanut butter chocolate chip waffles and apparently “the best-smothered hash browns in the world” so naturally, they tried it out. Y/N made a small little quip about how she’d like to be smothered like a hashbrown and he snorted. 

They have a good time together but they always have a good time together so that wasn’t a shocker. Both of them eat until they’re stuffed full, Harry goes so far as to loosen the waistband of his pants, “Fuck sake,” he groans, placing his hand over his rounded belly, “Swear I don’t eat this much unless I’m with you. G’na give me a belly.” 

“Y’know you’re not the first person who’s told me that?” She also leaned back, stretched out and brought her glass of water to her mouth, searching for the straw, “I was with a guy once, his name was Christian, and he had that -- y’know that one kind of body where they’re scrawny but also kind of muscly? Hugging him felt like hugging aboard, so I fed him good and he had a bit of a belly. The sex was much better too,” she slurped the water through the straw, clearing her throat after she swallowed, “Won’t go into the details of it but it’s much. . .softer. Hotter -- biting on love handles is a delicacy.” 

Y/N had always been a very open book and she wasn’t really thinking about the morning’s events prior to them coming here, so by the time she realizes it Harry’s cheeks have blossomed a rosy pink. In an effort to avoid speaking about it, she changes the subject quickly, “Oh! You’re g’na have to help me pick out the best sleeping bag, or I’ll get something shitty on accident. Also, I think I need a stronger bug repellent, I’ve got a mosquito bite on my thigh and it’s irritating the hell out of me.” 

Harry, who appeared grateful for the change of subject, nods with a grin, “You think I’d let you get anything but the best?” 

He spoils her -- Harry’s always been good about that. Y/N doesn’t expect him to do anything for her ever because he really doesn’t have to, and she’s got enough to fend for herself. Hell, she actually sort of hates it when he does things for her, because not only is she a horrible receiver (she’s always been more of a giver) she never wants him to think she’s milking him for his money.  

“I don’t think I could ever think you’re using me for my money when you almost bit my hand trying to pay for breakfast.” 

The better option for a sleeping bag was a pretty penny more than what Y/N had originally been going for, but Harry insists on purchasing the more expensive one. He trucks it to the cash register before she can stop him, and side-eyes her as he pays while she glares at him, “I hope you know I won’t stand for this. I’m paying you back.” 

“I’ll refuse the money.” He murmured casually as he swiped his card. 

For the others, they pull through McDonald's to get them breakfast, which they were all more than exuberant for (at least the ones who were hungover and awake). They’d rented out canoes for the lake, so Y/N shared with Chrissy and they all fucked around in the water for a little while (which was a little murky but not as muddy as the Mississippi, so they weren’t questioning what might lie beneath the surface). Harry teases her about the life jacket that she’s got clipped onto herself, but when she pouts at him, he returns the puffed lip, “I’m only playin’.” 

“I’ll start crying, Harry that’s a promise.” 

“If you get started, I’ll get started, that’ll be a mess. Kinda like when we watched that one film -- what was it? Had us balling?” 

“Harry, I’ll be honest we’ve watched so many cheesy rom coms it's a blur.” 

Y/N doesn’t really start drinking until around 4 - 5 after they had something short of a late lunch (Y/N handed him a sandwich, even when he said he wasn’t that hungry, but when she reinforced that he needed to eat, he took it, “You’re tryin’ to fatten me up, I know it.”). And even then, she didn’t drink much. She was too worried that she’d get a set of loose lips and bring up the whole situation, so she kept herself steady with the same hard lemonades she’d dabbled in the day prior. 

Harry. . .well, Harry was a different story. 

He’d indulged a bit, Y/N’s not sure what it was he had been drinking but it didn’t taste like alcohol so it made it easier for him to slurp it down. Which meant he was tossing them back like nobody’s business, which also meant by 8 PM he was considerably off his face. Not horribly -- he could still walk by himself and keep upright, but his language had grown far more colorful and he was leaning most of his body weight on their friends. She had been thankful that it wasn’t her because she doesn’t think she could keep the both of them up until they locked eyes from across the fire and he grinned, “Y/N,” he made his way over to her, flopping down in the empty seat beside her, “Babe, I’ve got t’a be honest with you.” 

Y/N’s brows raised, gaze flickering around the to see if anyone was paying attention to them but they were mostly caught in their own conversation, “About what?” 

His lips rumple against each other as he cards hair from his face, “I need you to feed me more.” 

“Hm? Thought I fed you too much already?” 

Harry shook his head, “No, no, need you to make me eat more. We need to go out to eat loads together.” 

“Well I’m not gonna turn that down, but is there any reason as to why?” He gently plucked her hand from where it was resting on her leg, guiding it to the arm of the chair so that he could play with the brassy bee ring on her finger -- his hands on hers is all too reminiscent of this morning, it makes her heart race. 

“Don’t think m’soft enough,” he pouted, and she bites down on her inner lip to keep from giggling -- he’s cute when he’s drunk, doe-eyed and whiny, “And I want to be soft! Don’t want to be like a board to hug.” 

She understands then that he’s referring to their earlier conversation when she’d been talking about the boy she’d been with a few years ago. That does make her snort as she turns to face him in her seat, “Harry, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’ve got the ideal body type for most, you don’t need to change it.” 

“Really?” He’s doing that thing where he subtly fishes for compliments and Y/N is never short on indulging him in it. 

“Absolutely. You’re muscular and soft in all the right places. You already give the best hugs, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt more comfortable than shoved up in a sleeping bag with you, so you’re fine, you don’t need t’a force feed yourself, however, I will be taking your offer to go out to eat more. Reckon you’ll force me to open my mind to new foods.” 

Harry was grinning a big, dopey grin before tipping his forehead against her shoulder with a small laugh, “I liked sharing a sleeping bag with you too. You’re so warm.” He huffs a sigh, “You should just cuddle with me again t’night.” 

“You spent too much on that sleeping bag for me to not utilize it, H,” she does reach over to card her fingers through his hair and he practically purrs, “I’ll be near enough.” 

He pauses for a moment, before breathing a soft sigh, “I have to tell you something else, but I -- we should be alone when I do. Come to the tent with me?” 

So Y/N does -- she stands up and aids Harry in raising to a stand as well. Her heart is hammering against her chest because she knows he’s going to bring up this morning. How would he do it though? Would he tell her he knew she was awake? Would he question her and call her a creep? She wasn’t trying to be! She was trying to figure out what to do and before she could, he’d finished. 

Harry flopped down on his suitcase, legs crossed but he doesn’t even wait for her to sit down before he starts, “I had a dream about you last night,” he said it quietly because while the others had also begun packing up for bed, there was still a considerable amount of hustle and bustle nearby them as they did so, “And it was -- well, it was a wet dream, yeah? And it was filthy but sweet, and I. . .I think I might have rubbed against you and. . .and finished.” 

“I know.” She figures if he was going to be honest then she should be too. 

“You know?”  He looks at her with eyes wide, “And you’re not mad at me?”

“How could I be mad at you? You were asleep and it’s natural,” she shrugs her shoulders, “I was trying to figure out if I should wake you up or not but I felt too bad to, and. . .and y’know, before I could really make the decision you had.  . .yeah.” 

He covers his face with his palms, “I’m so embarrassed,” he whines, shaking his head, “I haven’t done that since I was about 17.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed! Honestly, if there were anyone better to rub off on and for things not to get awkward, it would be me.” 

“You’re just so amazing,” he speaks into his hands, even though Y/N knees up and crawls over to him, slipping her fingers around his wrists and pulling in an attempt to get them from his face, “And warm, and soft, and understanding -- I appreciate you loads, I think it was an appreciation stiffy, m’sorry for cumming on you.” 

Y/N can’t stop the giggle that overcomes her then from the sheer absurdity of the conversation, as she gives a firmer tug but she only proves to drag him into her body, his head knocking into her bosom, “Babe,” she says it through a laugh, “You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay -- it’s natural. . .just a part of life.” 

He reveals his face to her, all flushed cheeks and pouty lips, eyes glossy from his drinks, “You mean it?” 

“I mean it.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“But you guarantee --” 

“For fuck sake, do you want me to get it tattooed on me?” She chuckles, cradling his cheeks in her palms and leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, “I absolutely, positively, guarantee that it’s okay that you accidentally came on me, okay?” He still looks hesitant but eventually nods, “Okay, good. Now, why don’t we get you tucked in, hm?” 

Harry nodded, allowing Y/N to unzip his sleeping bag before she made her way over to his duffel, plucking out some clothes for him and tossing them over to him. He wiggled out of his bottoms, while Y/N aided him in tugging his shirt off, quickly replacing it with what she had presumed to be a sleep shirt while he tugged his sweatpants on without having to stand up. Y/N was out of breath by the time she’d helped him, so she plopped down beside him to catch her breath, huffing a sigh before patting his shoulder, “You want me to play with your hair ‘til you fall asleep?” She asked him and the look he gave her was endearing as he nodded, “You. . .you really want to?” 

Her response is to card her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and his eyes flutter shut. 

“You better be careful,” he murmured. 

“What?” She tilted her head, “Am I being too rough?” 

Harry shakes his head. 

“No, if ya don’t stop being so sweet, I’m g’na fall in love with you,” he tells her, sinking into his bag, “You better be careful.”