FWB Harry part 5 (Patreon)

These two are too cute to boot! I love writing fluff for these guys :) ALSOOOOOOOOOO your goodies will be in the mail soon, I'm still working through them and writing them but I will be sending them out in October ٩( ᐛ )و

part 1 

part 2 

part 3 

part 4 

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v.

“Harry, Sweetheart --” 

“He was flirting with you --” 

“I know, but -- ” 

“--and he wanted to fuck you. I saw it in his eyes, those are the same eyes I do when I’m trying to seduce you.” 

“Well even if he was, those eyes only work on me when they’re yours.” 

“Always told us you were nothing serious -- kiss my arse!” 

It had been a while since either of them had attended a party. Y/N had never been a big partier in general so it was nothing new for her to avoid them for months at a time, but Harry. . .Harry had always been an explicit partier. As far as she had been concerned before, he was in his element when there was a beer pong table within a few meters of him at all times, and more than a dozen willing people who would take him to bed in a heartbeat. Though when they got together officially (a little over two months ago), Harry had begun forgoing them entirely. When Y/N asked him about it he stated a very simple and clear, “Why would I need to go? Only went before ‘cos I knew someone would fuck me. I’d rather watch a movie and eat you out on the couch anyway.” 

And, well, Y/N couldn’t fight the logic entirely. 

But it was Adam’s birthday, he was throwing something short of a rager as he brought in the tender age of 22 and the both of them were invited (Y/N, especially, not just because they’re close friends but because he knew she would help him set up and clean up). It would be the first time they’d been at a party together-together, but they had literally met and started their original arrangement at a party, so Y/N had not been in the least bit worried. She was sure enough in Harry’s feelings and in his actions to know that he wouldn’t be trying anything with anyone else -- he was a lot of things, but nobody could ever say that the grumpy lug wasn’t loyal. 

Not that she ever needed proof of his devotion, she had received it not even a week into them becoming something more than what they were (even though she believed that they had crossed that bridge long ago), when they were at their usual spot in the library. Y/N had left in search of the hot chocolate that he was so fond of while he was bent over his notes, highlighting and circling, making more flashcards that she knew she would be quizzing him on. His brow had not been furrowed but the apprehension he felt for his exam the next day had been clear on his face. It was a difficult class with a difficult professor, and he hadn’t done well on the last test so she knew he would try to overdo it for the next -- that’s why she had suggested they go to the library. They could both focus much better there (and if they were at either one of each other’s houses, it would be hard not to take a break and nap every few hours -- or fuck), and Y/N could get some work done too. 

He needed a little boost of encouragement though, so she told him she was using the restroom but instead returned with a large hot chocolate from the stand in the cafe on the library’s bottom floor, and a danish for them to share. While she had left him alone, she had returned to someone speaking to him -- a girl that Y/N recognized from a few of the parties that they had attended together. They used to dance together, Y/N remembered. She remembered how jealous she would get when she saw her loop her arms around Harry’s throat and how spiteful she felt when his hands migrated down to her hips, and she could see how he squeezed them how he would squeeze hers when he was inside her. Y/N also remembers pivoting on her heel anytime she saw the two within a few meters of one another and burying herself in Adam while some electronic rendition of a pop song thumped through the speakers, pretending to be carefree about the situation (Adam always saw through her, but entertained her dancing anyway). 

Their interaction is much different now though, as Y/N draws nearer, she only catches the tail end of what the girl was saying (she never caught her name, they had only ever spoken once and it was brief), “. . .this Saturday. Are you in?” 

Harry shook his head, still having not seen her yet, “No thank you, I’m going to be with Y/N.” 

She could see the shift in the girl’s body language, “Who?” 

“My girlfriend,” Harry fills in the blank for her, “Y/N -- you’ve met her, I don’t know why you don’t remember.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered -- he hadn’t called her that before. They had admitted their feelings, sure, but they hadn’t exactly labeled it anything. She had assumed that they probably wouldn’t because Harry never seemed to be keen on labeling anything, but he says it with such conviction, Y/N would have thought they’d been together for years. 

Harry’s eyes finally find her own as she slows to the seat, a small smile graces his mouth, “Ah, there she is -- Y/N, you remember Tara?” 

She nodded, smiling kindly to the girl, “Yeah, I do. How are you?” 

“I’m fine,” she answers, and she works to soothe her pinched features, “I’m just heading out though, but it was nice to see you both. See you later.” 

Y/N’s gaze flickers to Harry’s with her brows raised and Harry raises his in return, “Hm?” 

“Your girlfriend?” She stresses the word and Harry looks at her like she’s silly. 

“Yeah? What else would I call you?” 

Y/N’s heart swells in her chest, like a water balloon snug around the faucet nozzle. She can’t help but set the hot chocolate on the table and slipped herself into his side of the booth, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Harry didn’t question her -- instead, he accommodated her body easily and dipped his nose into her throat, “Did you get me a hot chocolate?” Y/N nodded wordlessly, “You didn’t have to do that, Pet. Those things are expensive.” 

“Think I would buy you the moon if I could.” Y/N muffled against his throat. 

He chuckled warmly, “You’d have to fight me for it, ‘cos I reckon I’d buy it for you too.”

So she wasn’t expecting the night to be anything but fun, even more so now that she and Harry could double team Adam with love and affection in the form of hugs and cheek kisses to accompany his present (because she’d given Harry a very convincing blowie, though he tells her he would have anyway because it’s hard to say no to her). And they did get to do that -- they both came around early to help him set up, and just before the first guests started arriving they surprised him with his present (an authentic oil lamp from the late 1800s for his ever-expanding collection), then doused him with such an immense amount of cheek kisses (she got the left cheek, Harry got the right) and hugs that were on the side of too tight, he was blushing bright red after. 

Adam was perpetually touch starved, so she figured that was just as good as the oil lamp. 

The party started out fine, Y/N was having fun, and so was Harry from what she could tell. They took shots (Harry did a few more than her), danced and spoke and mingled as they always did. It was easy and fun and the air around them was light -- Adam was on a coffee table very brightly singing along to Lil john. 

She felt the shift though when a guy from her lecture had popped into her line of sight and waved at her. They started talking some -- Harry had gone to get them both bottles of water and a slice of cake to share, so she figured chatting with him would pass the time too. Y/N doesn’t even really know what they were talking about because she was mostly just nodding and smiling like she always does at parties and plucks out key words she can make out past the loud music and boisterous yelling. What she does know is that Harry appeared beside her with the cake and the drinks, nodded to the guy wordlessly, and didn’t bother speaking until they finished their conversation. 

And it would have been fine if the idiot didn’t ask Y/N if she wanted to leave the party and do something. . .suggestive. 

Y/N could feel Harry’s tension radiate off of him as she shook her head, “No thank you,” she declines politely, “Harry and I are together.” 

Jordan -- that was his name -- rose his brows, “Oh, really? Thought you and Styles were -- he always told us you lot was nothing serious.” 

Harry responds unamused, “Not anymore.” 

He raises his hands, “Fair enough. You two have a good night.” 

She turned to look at him, but Harry was already leading her into the hallway, “Don’t be grumpy.” 

“I’m not grumpy,” Harry had grumbled, (rather grumpily, Y/N might add), “I just fucking hate that guy.” 

Y/N slides her hand down his arm, her fingertips graze against the tender skin of his wrists before she loops them around his arm and gives him a small tug away from the mass of people. Toward the stairs that led to the basement, that wasn’t really a dark dank basement that Y/N would have thought when she’d seen the door when they got here. It was off-limits to the party but they had to move some of the more valuable items down there, so Y/N saw that it was furnished nicely. More of a den, with big, puffy couches and a large TV, a billiards table and things like it -- it was made for entertaining. 

She led him down the stairs, down the small hallway, and turned to the right where the sofas were. They narrowly avoided a few of the vases they had strategically placed there, Y/N takes him so they’re standing behind the back of the couches so Y/N could lean her hip against them (she didn’t necessarily want to sit on them -- she wondered if there were spiders hiding in the cushions). 

That’s why they’re here, Harry grousing about him flirting and trying to “seduce” her, but Y/N takes a step forward and places her palms to his broad chest, “Listen to me,” she drags her thumb along the soft fabric of his shirt, “I dunno’ what’s got you so jealous, but that’s silly, yeah? I think I barely batted a lash at anyone when you were reminding me every few seconds that I was nothing more than a conventional hole, let alone now.” 

She thought this might soothe him some, or even stir a laugh from him, but it only makes his brows knit. Harry took her hands from his chest and laced their fingers together, shaking his head, “I never thought you were a “conventional hole” I’ve always -- I made you feel like that?” There’s a bit of distress that rolls over his features and Y/N’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head. 

“Oh, button, I was just joking --” 

“But I did, didn’t I? The first few months,” he shook his head to himself, “I treated you like trash. I can’t believe you ever wanted anything to do with me when I think about it. . .when I really think about it,” he tilts his forehead against hers, “I’m sorry.” 

“Bud, it’s oka--” 

“It’s not,” he stressed, his eyes were glossy from the Smirnoff that he’d downed with no chaser, “I fucked you that first night then told you we were nothing, and I kept sleeping with you, and being grumpy, and being so cruel talking about how we weren’t together, but I wasn’t ever reminding you, I was always only trying to convince myself,” his hand raises, cradling her face and petting at her temple carefully, “I was such an idiot, wasn’t I? I loved you much from the start but I was so. . .so mean -- I care for you so much, sometimes I wonder if I show it enough. Feels like I ought’a show it double the amount now to make up for all the shite from before.” 

Harry takes a soft, huffed breath after getting it off his chest. Y/N wonders how long he’d been holding onto that. . .it was clearly something he’d been thinking about for a while,  “Where’s all this coming from, hm?” Y/N asks him gently, squeezing his hand, nudging her forehead against his chest before peeking back up at her, “What’s got you all stirred up?” 

“I wanna say the vodka,” he says at first, and Y/N giggles, “But I just. . .when he brought it up, ‘bout how I always reminded everyone that you and I weren’t anything. It frustrates me to think I wasted so much time not accepting my feelings and being such a prat about it.” He pushes a kiss to her forehead, but he nestles his nose into her hair and breathes in slowly and deeply, and Y/N isn’t sure what to do but hold him closely, as she gathers what to say. 

“Silly little thing,” she murmurs against his chest, peppering kisses there and smiling when he hums lowly in response, “I’ve always known you cared for me, even if you weren’t very forthright with your feelings -- if you didn’t care for me, then I wouldn’t have fallen for you the way I did.” Harry starts swaying from side to side, Y/N doesn’t know if this is a halfhearted attempt at dancing or if he was still feeling the alcohol in his legs (he had told her upstairs that he was feeling it quite a bit, so they sat down for a little while with her legs in his lap and he caressed her calves while they watched a group play Cards Against Humanity while theorizing about who would be going home with each other tonight). Either way, she sways with him, “You would clean me up after, you would make sure I rehydrated and ate something, you wouldn’t let me go home if it was too late -- I remember one time I almost left during a storm and you all but ripped me a new one, didn’t you?” She cleared her throat, grinning, deepening her voice and taking on his tone, “‘You’re fucking joking! You think for a second I’m letting you go home in a goddamn storm? I would never forgive myself if you got hurt. Take your shoes off, I’ll get you something to sleep in’ think it was a little something like that.” 

Y/N knew that’s exactly what he said because she replayed those words about a dozen times before she’d gone to sleep that night cozied up on his couch. 

“And then, the first night you kissed me, I was always so confused -- you slid your lips right over mine and kissed me breathless, after a good while telling me no kisses.” She slides one hand from his grasp, using her fingers to crawl up his bicep, up to his neck before she starts carding through his hair, “I didn’t know how far your feelings for me went, but I always, always, always knew that you cared for me. Especially when you would sit with me while I took my baths, and listen to me prattle on, and you never told me to stuff my gob and shut up. Think I knew I was in love with you though, the first night you let me cuddle up against you without it being an aftercare thing. . .you had, had a bad day, but I got you talking about 70s rock bands and you just went hours and hours. I had never heard you speak so much in a sitting, and I never wanted it to end. Just wanted to keep talking and talking.” 

Harry chuckles, pulling her closer and skating her lips against his forehead, “Want to know how I knew I loved you?” Y/N hums, encouraging him to continue, “You were in the tub after one of our long nights, and I had filled it up with so many bubbles they were up around your neck. The water was too high, so you were too scared to move too much because you thought it would slosh out of the tub onto the floor, so you were staying so still. Your cheek was pushed against the cold ceramic edge,” he brushes his knuckles across her cheek as he speaks, “I had cookies in the oven ‘cos you wanted them so bad -- almost as soon as we came, you asked for chocolate chip cookies, so I made you some, and we were waiting for them. You were telling me about this book you read when you were younger, that you didn’t remember the name of but you thought about all the time,” he blinks slowly, still smiling at her, “And you know, I’ve never cared for how people tried to explain books or movies or shows to me rather than just letting me figure it out if I actually wanted to consume it or not, but with you. . .god, with you, I held on to every, single, word.” 

He sighed, pushing another kiss to her forehead, “I was talking about that book, with the baby the girl found in a train car bathroom,” she fills in for him, nodding her head, “I remember because you were asking me questions and I was still far too floaty to give you any sort of a meaningful answer.” 

“I’m gathering that we fell in love with one another ‘cos neither of us is able to shut our gobs,” Harry teases and Y/N giggles, “We should go back upstairs and make sure Adam hasn’t broken his ankle on the coffee table.” 

“Mhm,” she slides back so that she can look him in the eyes, “But when we get a moment again, you better tell me more instances about how you realized how much you were in love with me.” 

“As long as you tell me some too.”