Narry One Shots

Just A Glance Away

A/N____________________

_Read my friend's book @University_Life! (The cover is a heart with a graduation cap) Honestly, it's the most embarrassed he's ever been. Ignoring, of course, that never-to-be-mentioned-again night in Australia. There had been alcohol involved then so the blame for who fondled who first wasn't wholly his, but this somehow seems worse. Without even a swallow of the wine he'd set out for the evening in his stomach, Niall's hyperaware of that acrid stench.

Still laced with the sweet undertones of apples and cinnamon, brown sugar- Can scents be mocking?- he pinches his nose and grabs the pan from the stove, flames and all, and dunks it into the sink. With a cackling hiss and roar, it finally consents to dying, but not before the kitchen reeks of the decaying remains of his attempt at a romantic evening. The tiny kitchen is cloudy with smoke and he can feel his eyes start to water.

And just then, because he's jinxed or something, Harry's voice carries over from the front door. The familiar jingle of keys, the rustle of paper bags.

"Hey, I'm home!" then after a few footsteps, "What's that smell?"

Niall sighs, feeling the heat on his cheeks, knowing he's probably the color of a tomato right now. He never should have tried- Harry does all of the cooking. It's an unspoken rule. He'd just- well, he was feeling all romantic and fuck if he's going to listen to his heart over his gut ever again. He pokes his head out of the doorway and smiles to Harry like he has everything completely under control.

"It's dinner," he says, frowning when Harry starts to make his way over.

"Aren't you tired? Maybe you should go shower? Change?" Still, Harry's smiling and trudging forward. He stops just long enough to drop his bags.

"Can't I kiss my boyfriend first?" he says, shaking his head.

And, as if Niall needed another reason to love him, Harry doesn't even blink when he eyes the carnage that is their kitchen. The dishes splayed around everywhere. Flour caked on the counters, saucy handprints on the fridge and even a few on the floor somehow. The pan still smoking in the sink.

He pulls Niall in for a kiss, smelling every bit like Niall remembers he had when he'd crawled out of bed that morning. Like Harry- he concedes to embrace the sap on this point alone- like warmth and musk and the cooingly sweet apple shampoo he uses. He could get lost in this kiss, like all the others, after only a moment but Harry pulls back a little. Watches him until they both smile, all giddy like they used to be in the beginning. When it was all new and Harry had asked him he'd wanted to go for a swim and Niall had snuck a kiss in the dark. They'd both blushed, but then another and another. Until their fingers and toes were pruning and wrinkly in the cold water and they'd gone to their beds, neither able to sleep. It was like that, with Harry's hands on his waist and the kitchen reduced to a battle zone.

"I had a long day," Harry mutters, pulling him close until Niall's face is buried into the crook of his neck.

Niall scoffs, a barking laugh, "Yeah, shopping can really tire you out."

"Hey, it can," he shoots back, "Especially when there are hundreds of girls trying to figure out what you're buying."

Niall has to almost bite his tongue off not to interject his own troubling day. Not that he feels he should have to. What with the evidence sprawled out about them.

"What did you buy?" he says instead and Harry smiles, turning to leave, coming back in with his bags. One's much larger than the others and he has to make room for it on the messy counter, pushing aside empty bowls and spoons and knives.