Narry One Shots

Mint And Coffee

He loves Harry because he's always warm.

His chest, his arms, and he smells like cane sugar. Like burnt wood and mint and coffee sometimes when Niall pulls him in for a kiss when the others aren't watching, wipes at the corner of his mouth with the edge of his sleeve after. Harry's grin splits his cheeks.

"Couldn't wait?" with his hand on Niall's lower back.

He punches him on the shoulder hard enough he hopes it leaves a bruise.

Harry's just so fucking warm, it drives him crazy.

Nestled in the sheets of his own bed now though, how is it that even this feels like torture? Niall takes a breath and holds it, counts to ten. Shivers in the cold confines of his own skin. Closes his eyes and wills himself to drift off.

But then it's been nearly a half hour and he's still staring up at the ceiling, listening to the steady kips of Liam's breath in the other bed.

What he wants more than anything is to snap his fingers and have Harry here with him. And not just because he hasn't slept with him in days. But he's just always restless, he fidgets and the others think he's anxious, pent up energy. What Niall really needs, Harry knows, is for someone to hold him down.

He tries for a while more, but it's no use. Ten minutes later he's in his boxers with the blanket wrapped snugly around his shoulders, trudging down the hall to Harry and Louis' room.

He has to knock about twenty times before the door creaks open slowly. And, he notes proudly, he doesn't even show his disappointment when it's not Harry yawning, staring back at him in nothing but a pair of the smallest shorts he's ever seen.

"Lou?" he steps forward, hand on the frame.

Louis looks him up and down with a glare like he'd very much like to punch him in the face.

"What," he snaps groggily, holding the door open for Niall to walk through, "is the point of you having separate rooms if you wake us up at three a.m. to sleep together anyway?"

Louis trudges to his own bed and pulls the covers over his head before Niall can even respond.

"Harry?"

He takes a few tentative steps toward the bed where Harry's sprawled out atop the covers in a pair of Niall's sweats he'd borrowed the day before. On Niall they'd hung loose, but even on Harry's slim hips, they fit so snug, hugging his frame.

"Harry?" he drops his blanket and climbs onto the bed, leaning down to shake his shoulder, "Hey, wake up."

Harry turns just enough to crack one eye open. He shifts a little more, onto his side, when he sees that it's Niall.

His voice is so rough already, when he's tired it only grates more.

"What's the matter?" he mumbles, lifting his arm so Niall can turn and lie down, his back to Harry's bare chest.

"Couldn't sleep."

Harry chuckles so low Niall feels it everywhere, coarse against his palms, his stomach, the insides of his thighs.

"So you wake me up?" Harry whispers, pulling his leg over Niall's and holding his hand tight until Niall links their fingers.

"You're good for this stuff."

"Being woken up?"

He pulls Harry's hand up and presses his palm to his lips, kisses him a few times, holds him tighter so he doesn't embarrass himself and blurt out what he's really thinking just in case Louis' still awake.

"I miss you," he says instead.

Harry laughs again, settling closer against Niall's backside.

"We spent all day together."

"I can't touch you," Niall says.

"You're touching me right now," he quips, nuzzling into Niall's neck as if he's trying to make his point.

He sighs, his eyes slipping shut, "You know what I mean."

He feels so tired now it's almost scary; how being close to Harry for just a few minutes is comforting enough that he slips right down.

Harry's voice is louder now, though, like he's wide awake.

"What did Simon say?" he reminds Niall, "Two months, right?"

His throat tightens and it should be almost painful that he can't catch his breath, but he just hears two months over and over and it's the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Yeah," he says, already half asleep. And just like this, even after a shower and surrounded by the sterile stench of hotel sheets, Harry smells like Christmas and cinnamon, mint and coffee. In the strong grip of his arms, Niall sinks like Harry's the calm, tan ripples of the sea.

Edging on a dream, he slips back.

"Babe?" Harry whispers.

He never got the hang of "sweetheart", no matter how much Niall insisted.

"Huh?" He's drifting off again. He has to struggle to make his mouth work. With Harry's arms around him, he always feels weightless,

He nestles in closer to him and can't help but smile when Harry groans, Niall's bum pressing back on him.

He doesn't outright say it, but he doesn't have to. He kisses the back of Niall's neck and slips his hand to Niall's hip then lower, palming at him gently through his boxers.

"Can we?" he asks, breathes, holding Niall down and grinding against him as if his erection wasn't obvious enough. But against him, even when he's dead on his feet, Niall feels his cheeks flush and he has to take a deep steadying breath to think with his head instead of the arousal pooling in his gut.

"You're such a pervert," Niall hisses out a whisper, maybe a little too loudly, "Louis' right there."

Harry laughs when a shaky voice drifts over.

"Please don't," Louis mumbles, "I'm right here."

"Just... hold me?" Niall sighs. Harry groans, but he can feel his smile on the back of his neck. When he kisses him again, it's without the urgency, his lips pressed to his skin so slow, he can feel his warm breaths tickling the hairs there. Then Harry's curls at his ear when he kisses his cheek.

"You owe me," he says. Niall nods, yawning.

"Anything. Just say."

Harry lifts his head and says a little louder, "You owe me, too."

Louis shuffles in his sheets, "Whatever."

They fall asleep just like that- as close as they could possibly be without removing a few thin layers of clothing. Niall takes a deep breath and Harry mumbles. Two months and he dreams about the way Harry tastes, how easy he gives in. The way his hand seems to fit Niall so perfectly, a tight fist, the fingers of his other hand, gasping encouragement. Two months and he's not awake to hear it, but when he mutters under his breath, Harry pulls him closer.