baby [h.s.]

eighteen

            Sunday was long. I went through the day with the weight of the words said at dinner the night before. And the words spoken by my mother. Without my distraction, time went by slowly.

    My mind was trapped; all I could do was think about it. And I hated how these little things had such a hold on me. It all led back to Harry in the end. Joining the agency, Parker, all these changes in my life, all being a trail leading back to the captivating man with green eyes himself.

   But, fortunately, I didn't find myself thinking about the agency often. After Riddle's words, I was at ease. It was a relief in many senses; I wasn't only happy to know they would value my presence, but also knowing that those dark thoughts didn't hold my mind captive. I was no longer constantly thinking about it. It was a nice change.

   On the stove, I had my dinner. Knowing I would have to return to constant working the next morning, I thought I'd spoil myself with a lovely home cooked meal. I had pasta boiling on one side of the oven and the sauce simmering on the other. While that was working, I chopped up vegetables to put in a salad.

   The radio was playing softly in the background. My hips swung to the beat as the knife in my hands sliced through the carrot on the counter ahead of me.

   "I do hope you've prepared enough for two," A deep voice said from behind me. I yelped, jolting a bit, and turned around.

   And there he was.

   Harry stood in a disheveled white t-shirt and black jeans. His hair was messy and under his eyes were bags and dark circles. He looked as if he hadn't had a wink of sleep.

   My shoulders sagged and I left out a breath of relief. It was then that I looked down at my hand. In the tip of my finger was a cut that I had obviously made with the knife when Harry scared me.

   My eyes narrowed. "Christ, Harry, don't do that to me," With one hand, I flipped the sink on and reached the other over to hold my finger under the water.

   "Shit, love, didn't mean to scare you like that," he said, moving so that he was standing behind me. His body was close to mine as he looked over my shoulder at my hand. When he rested his chin on my shoulder, my eyes widened. "Hope you didn't miss me too much,"

   I just hummed, shaking my head. "It's been quiet," The blood ran into the basin of the sink.

   Harry placed his left hand on my waist and reached for a paper towel with the other. Before I could even ask what he was doing, he squeezed my finger with the paper towel, wiping off the skin, wet with blood and water.

   "I'm sorry," he whispered. And I didn't respond. I didn't know how to; I was still a bit shocked by the way he was treating me. I wasn't used to this cuddly nature of him.

   It was then that I remembered the food I had on the stove. Quickly, I stepped away from him.

   "Grab me a bandage, yeah?" I said as I walked towards where the food was cooking. "And to answer your question, yes, I have enough for two,"

   As he walked over to the medicine cabinet, he tossed me a teasing grin over his shoulder. "Were you anticipating my presence?"

   I snorted. "Actually, no, I just totally screwed up the pasta proportions,"

   He just laughed.

   A few moments later, as I was stirring the sauce with my good hand, he reappeared with the wrapped of a bandage in his hand. I stuck my finger out towards him and heard the wrapper crinkling.