One Direction One Shots 1

Drunk (Harry)

I jolt awake at the crashing sound coming from the front door. I already know that the little table where we put our keys was just sent to the ground and I can hear him swearing and telling the table to shush. 

I sit up in bed, holding the sheet up to cover my nakedness as Harry stumbles into the bedroom. His eyes bleary and his skin flushed. I can smell the club on him. The alcohol and bad perfume of the girls who’d tried to rub against him. The cigarettes. 

His large feet get in his way and he fumbles for a second, holding to the door knob to keep himself steady before he leans against the doorframe and rests his head against it, looking at me with his crooked smile. 

“Hi,” he manages out, closing his eyes over the swirling of his vision.

“Hey there, sweetie. Have fun?” 

“I think…I think I drank Absin—Absi—fuck,” he shakes his head trying to figure out his phrasing.

“Absinthe?” I offer and he snaps and points at me, his head falling on his shoulders, heavy from the liquor.

“Thas the one.” 

“Nick give you that?”

“He’sucha good friend,” his words tangle together on his tongue. His tone smoky and rough. 

“Okay…come here, babe.” I open my arms to him and he stumbles forward, crashing into me and knocking me flat on my back. His full weight is over me and he snuggles into my shoulder, nuzzling my neck. “Why is your shirt wet?”

“I spilled,” he almost sounds like a child and I find it too adorable. He pushes himself up, his belt digging into my thigh. I wince but try and endure it. “Hey…hi,” he grins and I try not to laugh at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi…diduknow I can’t dance? At’all.” 

“More than aware of this.” 

“I am not Shakira. Her hips donlie. My hips lie. Liars.”

“Okay, shhh,” I pull his head back down to my shoulder and he settles in again, smacking his lips. “How did you get home?”

“Took a cab with a bunch of nice ladies.”

“Oh…wonderful,” I snort and shake my head. Happy that he’d been returned to his rightful owner and not swept off by a cab full of horny women.

“You’re naked,” his hips swivel against mine and I can feel his content smile against my neck.

“Nothing gets passed you.”

“Am I naked?”

“No, honey. You’re not.”

“That’sashame.”

I pat his butt then push his hips back. “Let’s get you out of these smelly clothes.” He lets me sit him up even though I know he feels like his body weighs a ton. His eyes are sleepy and he looks like a little boy. A very drunk little boy. I kiss his cheek and he smiles and looks at me, placing his hand to the spot. 

“Thank you,” he lights up and I giggle at him. 

I strip his dark blue trench off his shoulders and grip the end of his stained blue tee. “Arms up,” I order like he’s a toddler I’m trying to get ready for bed. It takes his brain a second to comprehend orders but once it gets there he shoots his arms up into the air and lets me peel his shirt off. 

Harry wraps his arms around my waist and shifts me into his lap, burying his head in my neck and pressing his tongue to my jawline. Immediately my skin reacts to him. Grows hot and yearns for more of him.