Altered. [Harry Styles]

01.

TW: Domestic abuse, mentions of drug usage and alcoholism.

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4 Years Later

Present Day.

Josie Pierce.

"If there was an award for the world's worst smoothie maker, it would have been awarded to you years ago." Harry's warm laughter tickles down the crook of my neck, taking one hand off of my hip to grab a towel from the drawer. "Who forgets to put the lid on the blender?"

He presses a playful kiss to my cheek, breaking the comforting embrace to clean up the mess I made. "'Least you taste good."

Embarrassment flusters my cheeks, but that was hardly recognizable from the splatters of smoothie on my cheeks. I had managed to almost successfully make a smoothie without making a complete mess, but I got too ambitious and wanted to enhance the flavor with another fruit. I figured I could save time by turning the blender on while I cut up an apple and tossed it in as I went, but the laws of blender physics proved me wrong. Splatters of pink smoothie added a modern touch to our mostly black and white kitchen, and made for a decent substitute of blush on my cheeks.

"I was trying to save you some time this morning so you could sleep in." I make it known that my intentions were good, even if my execution was poor.

Harry's already dressed for work, a blue blazer standing out from his usual black attire. His sleeves were cuffed right above his elbows so his single tattoo was exposed. His hair was styled to tame his curls just enough to appear professional, but even then, he was walking a line of looking like a hard-ass lawyer, and a Calvin Klein model.

"Appreciated." He flashes me a quick smile, then nods over to the trash can. "Hand me that, yeah?"

I drag the stainless steel trash can over to where he's compiled most of the mess with a damp rag, and watch as he guides the mess into the garbage.

"You didn't have to clean it up, you know. I was trying to make this an easy morning for you." My lower lips pouts out, but the humor of the situation cancels out any of my disappointment.

"Every morning with you is an easy morning, dearest." Harry chuckles and hangs the towel over the side of the garbage can, turning around to wash off his hands. "Especially when I get to laugh at you."

A smile cracks across my lips as I guide the trash can back to its place, then follow Harry's lead in washing my hands. Instead of waiting for him to move, I slip my hands under his arms, blindly wiggling them around until the water starts rinsing them.

"Then I guess I'll have to keep giving you reasons to laugh." I press a few kisses against his back, just as I feel soap on my hands. Harry's hands engulf mine, rubbing the soap into my palms.

"Make that a promise." He hums, guiding my hands back under the water. Once the soap is off both of our hands, I hear the faucet shut off.

"I promise." I seal my guarantee with another kiss to his blazer, drawing back my wet hands carefully to grab a towel.

Harry turns around to face me, his back leaning against the counter. He holds his hands out like they do on those medical dramas when they're getting ready to scrub in for surgery, and I can't help but smile to myself. I toss the towel once my hands are dry, and he wastes no time wiping off his hands so they can meet my hips again.