Harry Styles Preferences/Imagines

Being Lazy

 Sleep is something you've learned not to take for granted. There's never enough time to sleep when you visit Harry on tour; there's always some place to be, something grand to see. Tours mean no sleep. Coming off a tour, means sleep for days. You lay in bed, curled on your side against Harry's bare chest and let the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you back into a semi-conscious stupor. It's still early, you can tell from the barely visible streaks of light emerging from behind the black out curtains Harry had purchased years ago. The air is chilly in the bedroom, exactly how you like it. Harry usually complains that it's too cold but he just pulls the covers up higher and leaves it at that. "Too early," Harry mumbles, sleep laced voice cutting through the silence. Nuzzling closer to him, you nudge your nose against his chest and sigh in agreement. His arm tightens around your waist and tugs you closer until you're sprawled out on top of him, shifting until one knee is tucked against his hip and the other is entangled between his legs. "This isn't comfortable," you complain against his neck, shifting around until you're straddling his hips and sit up. He cracks an eye open and shrugs, fingers finding a resting place on your bare thighs and he smiles lazily. "This is," he comments, rolling his head on the pillow beneath him to crack his neck nosily before he settles for gazing up at you through sleep hazed eyes. "Don't... I'm too tired to do anything sexy," you mumble, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands before pushing your hair off your face and behind your ears. "We could have lazy sex," Harry offers, fighting the exhaustion clouding his eyes and the darkness that is calling him back home. "Or, we could sleep," you retort, shifting to Harry's right and pull him around your back so he's forced to spoon. "Too tired to complain," Harry mumbles against your neck, the tips of his fingers dipping into the waist band of your sleep shorts to rest against the tops of your underwear and with a deep sigh he's fallen back asleep. You spend the rest of the day in bed, safe and hidden behind the black out curtains that shadow your bedroom in semi-darkness no matter the time. The TV is on in the background, a dull noise to keep the silence from becoming overwhelming when one of you is awake while the other sleeps. Harry only ventures out of the bed once to retrieve an overwhelming amount of food he'd ordered the both of you to last through the day. "We have to clean tomorrow," you tell him, leaned back against his chest as you share a carton of Chinese food while eyeing the mess on his night side and Harry rolls his eyes while shoving more rice into his mouth. "You can clean, I'll watch," he says, ducking out of the way of the elbow you try to jab him with. "I'll help," he assures against your neck, licking up the traces of soy sauce he's left behind when he mumbles against your neck while watching the TV. Nothing much gets done the next day though, or the next and the two days you'd allotted for being lazy turns into a week. You don't complain, especially when Harry hardly wears any clothes during your lazy week.

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