antidote | h.s.

28 - gotcha

ashton mackenzie

"Fuck! Shit! SHH!"

The shrill ring of the doorbell breaks through the silence of the cabin, effectively waking me up and prompting a string of whispered curses from Harry as he carefully stands up behind me and walks to the door.

In all honesty, I've been waking up slowly for about twenty minutes now, just not wanting to open my eyes and eventually leave Harry's arms. I vaguely remember Harry waking up and then going to the other room, only coming back a few minutes later to crawl back into our cave of blankets and curve his body around the back of mine once again.

It was a blissful feeling, and I found myself regretting not taking off the whole week so we could stay here and not move the entire time. The whole night was euphoric almost, and I can't even manage to remember every little detail, all of them smudging over in my brain as one big, dreamy ink splotch of a night. This shows what amazing things can happen when I let my guard down-- when I let myself feel.

I don't want to leave this little bubble that we've created at the cabin, but I know I have to. I have to go back to work, and Harry has his responsibilities too. I don't know what'll happen once we leave these walls, and I'm not sure I want to find out.

At the sound of the hushed conversation ending and the front door clicking closed almost silently, I turn onto my back to see Harry tiptoeing through into the open kitchen and living room area. Nova, of course, is following him-- or rather the smell of what looks like food in the bag he's carrying. Her nails tap along the hardwood floors loudly, Harry softly quieting her as he moves comically slow to unpack the contents of the bag.

It's when he shushes the squeaky styrofoam containers that I lose it, laughing out from my nose and tucking my lips into my mouth. Harry's eyes snap over to me, first wide and then dropping into apologetic.

"Baby, I'm sorry I didn't know they were going to ring the doorbell," he whines, and I sit up to see him better.

"Don't be sorry. You're cute," I grin and feel like I'm flying from the butterflies I get when I see Harry blush from my words.

He looks down for a second before responding, "I got us some breakfast since the kitchen here is pretty bare. It's sort of early, though, so I can put yours in the fridge, and you can go back to sleep if you want."

"Are you staying up?" I ask, and he nods. "Then I'll get up. When is your shoot?"

He checks the clock on the wall, "they'll be here in about forty-five minutes."

I run to the bathroom to brush my teeth, also finding my reflection in the mirror and having to fight off the surge of embarrassment from the fact that he just saw me looking like this. When I go to bed with my hair wet, there's no telling how it'll end up, and this morning it's very much against me. Every curl manages to go a different direction, and all of them double in size, if not triple, from how they are when I style them. I decide not to fight it and instead throw it up into a barely-controlled bun on the top of my head with a hair tie from my wrist.

When I walk out back out, Harry sets two plates of french toast down on the dining table, his head tilting up at me when I walk over.

"I hope french toast is okay again," he sounds nervous that I would hate the breakfast he ordered, and I have to assure him by walking closer and leaving a kiss on his soft cheek, feeling the stubble underneath my lips as I do.

"French toast is perfect."

He twists his head to land his lips on mine, both of us smiling through the kiss so much that it doesn't work, and he eventually pulls away and pulls out a chair at the table for me. I sit down gratefully and watch for him to sit down, but he doesn't. So instead, Harry walks back over to the counter behind me, and I hear Nova follow him closely as he walks back, squatting down to place a bowl of dog food down by my feet. Nova immediately runs to the food, and Harry waits until she's close enough to pet the top of her head before he gets up and sits in his chair.