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harrysscheshirecat · 5 years

Text

Tea

The one where Harry is woefully ill prepared for breakfast. Later, Lenin brings H a birthday gift only to find him already celebrating with someone else. (fluff turned relationship angst) (Playboy!Harry)

Word Count: 2.6k

Harry was awoken to the sound of gentle rustling. He reached out for Lenin but her side of the bed was cold and empty. It must’ve been before 7, the sun wasn’t even out yet. Far too early for him to be without a bedmate. And on his birthday, no less. He pushed up from the bed to survey the dark room, stretching out in the process. She was easy enough to spot, with her mobile light illuminating her path. Harry turned to lay down on his back, propped up against the pillows. He watched her tip toe across the room collecting her things. “Were you even going to wake me?” he startled her, jumping in place at his words. “Or were you just going to leave me like some harlot?” That earned him an eye roll, but the hint of a smile tugging at her pillowy lips let him know she wasn’t too annoyed.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” she whispered, coming over to him to perch herself on the side of the bed and place a chaste good morning kiss on his cheek. “I have to work.” He remembered. That didn't mean he liked it anymore than he did when she originally told him.

“But it’s m’ birthday.” he pouted, taking her hand in his. He missed her skin already, hidden beneath her long sleeved shirt and dark jeans.

“Don’t make me feel worse!” she whined back.

He didn’t want her feeling bad, as much as he joked. “’m only joking.” he assured her. “Do ya have time for breakfast at least? I could whip us up some scramble.” he suggested, running a hand through his unruly locks.

“Shouldn’t I be making you breakfast, Birthday boy?” she smiled. Harry couldn’t lie, he was quite liking this special birthday treatment. Midnight handy, an offer to make breakfast, he could only imagine what else she might have in store for him tonight. But before his mind could wonder too far, he caught himself.

“Maybe, but I'm host. So I must insist.” Harry threw the covers off of him and gently scooted Lenin off the bed before hopping out himself. “Plus I make a mean egg.” He held a hand out for her.

Lenin looked at the time on her mobile, “It’ll have to be quick.”

“Oh, I can be fast.” Harry didn’t like the way that sounded as soon as it left his mouth. “Er- with the eggs I can be quick with the eggs.” he should really stop talking. “It doesn’t take long to cook them.” Lenin just looked on with an raised brow and a smile on her face, as amused as ever by him. That fact helped lessened his chagrin. He’d gladly make a fool of himself if it made her smile or laugh.

He went to lead her out of the room when but stopped when she didn't move. He looked back to her expectantly. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Styles?” Harry didn't know what she could possibly be referring to. They were only going to the kitchen, what was there to forget? She just sort of gawked at him, “Are you going to put on trousers?”

Harry couldn’t hide his goofy grin. “I wasn’t planning on it, lovey.” It was the sort of thing he normally wouldn’t think twice about. “’t’s only m’ kitchen.”

“...But you want to cook?” she asked. “That’s like, a safety hazard, babe.” Harry quite liked when she used pet names with him, though she was usually more careful, the occasional ‘babe’ only slipping through after a few drinks or a hit off whatever joint was being passed around. He tried not to read too much into the casual use of it now.

“I’ll be fine.” he assured her. But the way she bit at her bottom left led him to believe she was still genuinely concerned. “Besides, theres an apron if need be.” he held a hand out to her again, fingers wiggling. “Come on.” She accepted and he led her the way down the hall to the kitchen.

“Wait here,” Harry let her hand go when they entered the kitchen. He ducked down to open the drawer where he kept the tea towels, and in the very back, he found a little waist apron. He popped back up with his found treasure in hand raised above his head triumphantly. He let it unfold in his hand and tied it around his waist, first ‘round back, then back to the front to tie it, just as he used to do it when he worked in the bakery. “There.” Lenin laughed openly at his stance, bare chest puffed out and hand on his hips. God, he loved that sound. And the way she covered her mouth far too late to effectively hold back her giggles.

He wasn’t thinking when he left his spot in the middle of the kitchen to give Lenin a proper kiss. It just felt right. She seemed to think so too, the way she melted into him. One hand tangled itself in her long locks and the other found its way into her back jean pocket. He was surprised when she didn’t swat his hands away like usual. One kiss after another, pulling her impossibly closer with each peck. She felt so good against him, so warm. He needed to stop, before his brain switched off completely.

“I’ll get the eggs.” Harry announced when they finally pulled away from each other.

“I can make the tea.” Lenin declared slowly, a bit dazed. Harry couldn’t help but be a little chuffed about that. Lenin fetched the kettle from the stove top and skipped to the sink to fill it. She absentmindedly started to hum over the tap, body gently swaying with the improvised tune. Harry momentarily forgot the task at hand, enamored with her again. She carried the kettle back to the stove hob and turned it on. “...Where might I find the tea?” she spun around the kitchen on her heels and Harry was broken from his reverie.

He didn’t know if he even had any tea. Though he thought he recalled his Mum bringing a tin or two down with her when she came to visit. “Try the cabinet to the left.” he pointed her in the right direction.

Harry opened the refrigerator only to see their food selection was limited as well. He kept an eye on Lenin in his peripheral. He reckoned from her frown her findings weren't too prosperous either. “You don't have tea?” she whispered the words as if they were blasphemous. Harry was more of a coffee person, but he knew he'd be picking some up after this. She wouldn’t be without again.

“No eggs, either, I'm afraid.” he admitted sheepishly, closing the refrigerator. Harry never bothered much with groceries considering how much he was actually home. Everything would go bad before he could get to it. “’m sorry.” Usually it was only an inconvenience to him. This was embarrassing. “I can order something here.” He knew that was a long shot with her tight schedule but he had to at least offer.

“Don’t worry about me, I can grab something from catering.” Lenin assured him. “But what about you?”

Eating out and take-away had become more of a staple in his life than he would care to admit. But just as he struggled for an answer, he eyed a bowl of green apples on his table. Some of the only food in the house, he had sent his assistant out for a few things, fresh fruit he knew he’d eat included. He reached out to grab one and took a bite, making a show of his breakfast.

Harry wiped the natural juice of the fruit that dribbled down his chin and swore he caught Lenin staring at his mouth as he did so, the unmistakable look of lust in her eyes. The same look from last night. He couldn’t forget it so he was sure when he saw it again as he licked his lips clean. “You alright?” he smirked.

Her eyes snapped back to his, “Yeah!” his smirk grew when he saw a blush creep up her cheeks. What he wold give to know where her mind just was. “I’m going to be late.” Convenient. She had enough time for breakfast not a moment ago and now she was running out on him. “Have a good day, Harry!”

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” he called out after her.

“Mhm.” Lenin nodded before she exited the room, “Happy Birthday!” she shouted from the hall. The front door closing let him know he was alone again.

The door swung open, “Happy Birthday to you,” Lenin sang, stood on the porch, single cupcake in hand. It had a candle lit and everything. A smile split across his face upon seeing her again. “Happy Birthday to you.” His own little Marilyn crooning for him. She didn’t finish the song though, and Harry reckoned it was because of the extra person that came to stand in the doorway with him.

“Oh, that’s so cute!” Justina squealed from her place at his side. “Is it from Sprinkles?” Harry was mildly annoyed with his friend. It wasn’t her fault, it just felt as though she was intruding on something that was meant to be just the two of them.

Lenin didn’t miss a beat. “Yes! Good eye!” Her smile was radiant, but too rehearsed. It was the same one she wore on red carpets and other public events. The one she could hold for hours. Expect it didn’t meet her eyes like usual. She was not happy and Harry felt terrible.

Justina smiled brightly, “They’re his favorite.” her free hand settled in front of his stomach. He made him uncomfortable. The way she spoke with Lenin, the way she touched him, all painfully obvious ploys trying to assert ‘ownership’ of him or imply some sort of relationship. He stepped away from her, but left his hand as a sort of consolation. She just wrapped herself around his arm.

“Yeah,” her eyes darted from her shirt- or more specifically Harry’s shirt that Justina was wearing- to him and back to her, “I should have picked more up. Silly me.” It’s like she was saying, ‘I should’ve known you’d have company.’

“Oh, no worries, I don’t eat sweets.” Justina was quick to assure Lenin.��She gave a stiff nod in response.

“Make a wish” Lenin interjected, holding the small cake up to H and carefully cupping the small flame that remained as to make sure it didn’t go out.

Harry leaned forward and blew it out, wishing to spend the rest of the day with his sweet girl. “Thank you, love.” He then placed a kiss on Lenin’s cheek. She was such a good girl. Far better than he deserved right now. “I thought you were working today?”

“I am. I just- I wanted to make sure you got this.” Lenin handed him the cupcake then leant behind one of the big planters on his porch. She produced a small decorative gift bag with a balloon attached. Lenin had gone out of her way to make their own little party for two. Expect there were three. Harry tried to swallow back the guilt but the knot in his throat was growing.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” she had already done more than enough to make it a birthday he would remember.

“It’s nothing much, really.” Lenin insisted. But the fact that she thought to pick anything up for him at all was a gift unto itself.

“You should open it, babe!” Justina encouraged, irritating him further.

“Would you come in at least?” Harry invited Lenin in, not wanting her standing out on his front porch for too long.

“Yeah! I was just making Har lunch. We have more than enough.” Justina chimed in. It made Harry cringe, knowing how it probably sounded to Lenin. Knowing how it all sounded to Lenin. He was hearing it as she was. And couldn’t say anything, because it was all true.

Harry saw a look of hurt flash over her features for the briefest of moments before they were fixed back into an unreadable expression. She was quick to wave off their invite, “I have to be going actually. ”

“Aww, but watching them open it is like, half the fun, yeah? Open it quick.” Justina was pretty persistent. Lenin stayed as mum as ever, not giving any indication on what she preferred. He didn’t want to open it but felt obligated now.

Harry reluctantly went to remove the decoratively placed tissue paper. There were only a few pieces to shift through before he found a big variety tin of tea at the bottom of the bag. It made him smile. A small chuckle left him as he remembered their morning together fondly, “Thank you.” he bowed his head.

“What is it?” the blonde peaked into the bag as well. “Oh.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment with the British necessity. Without the backstory he could very well understand how some might find it a bit dull. He certainly wasn’t going to explain it to her.

“Like I said, nothing big.” but something he needed, nonetheless. He loved it. Len’s mobile pinged and she pulled it from her pocket to glance at the screen. “I really need to be going now. You guys have a good one.” She backed off the porch without another word, like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Wait.” Harry called after her. “I’ll walk you to your car.” He jogged to catch up to her. She didn’t slow. “Hey,” he reached out and grabbed her elbow. “Hey. Thank you, really.”

“Don't mention it.” He could see her fighting with herself, if she should say something. He hoped she did. Anything. “I should’ve called.”

“You know you're always welcome here.” She wouldn’t look at him, rather busying herself with her key fob. He needed to say something to fix this. “Hey, I’m sorry. yeah?” He meant it. He never ever meant to hurt Lenin.

“Don't be.” she shrugged, “You haven’t done anything wrong.” He knew that. They weren’t in a relationship. They were just friends. Then why did he feel so shit?

“I must’ve if you’re upset.” he stared intently at her.

“I- really need to be going.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t leave upset.” He hated to think of that. He would’ve tried harder, to have her stay if she wasn’t working.

“I’m not.” she lied. But he didn’t push it. They could talk later.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” the car beeped unlocked and Harry got the door for her.

“I’m actually flying out in a few hours.” Lenin got into her car and waited expectantly for Harry to close it behind her, which he did after a beat.

Her window was down so they could continue their conversation. “No! You have to come!” he leaned down to her window. “I’ll have no fun without you.” She had confirmed just this morning! Either she had double booked- which was unlike her- or she was just making something up. Harry reckoned it was the latter, and had an even stronger suspicion it had something to do with the blonde in his house at that very moment.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” She still wouldn’t look at him. Staring straight through her windshield instead.

“Are you back this week? Maybe we could celebrate later.” he offered, still hanging on her door.

“Any reason to continue the festivities, hm?” she was still teasing him, so that must’ve been a good sign. He wasn’t completely out of her good graces.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Could be fun. With you. Pleeease.”

“I don’t know, Harry.” she was short with him this time. She was usually on top off her schedule, another indicator she was fibbing. She was so mad, he could tell. But she wasn’t saying anything. She was absolutely maddening.

“Be safe. Traveling.” He stepped away from the car.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.”

Harry texted her that night at the party. And after the party. When he got no response back, he called. No answer either. With her voicemail box full. Curiosity got the best of him by the end of the week, resulting in him preforming the almost treasonous act of googling her. She was fine, of course. Attending one of Europes’ Fashion Weeks. Sitting in the front row of every important show and staying out late after. He attempted to get ahold of her a few more times to no avail.

It would be three months until they next spoke with each other again.

Author’s Notes: H’s birthday left me with all sorts of feels so you get a second post in honor of Harry’s birthday month. (Read the first part here) Based on the ever intrusive thought that H has way too many mates to ever be left alone on his Birthday... I struggled writing this, fighting with writers block. Admittedly not my best work but feedback is welcome, as always. xx. K

#angst #fanfic #fluff #Harry Styles #imagine #Bright Young Things #fanfiction #One Direction #writing #1D

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