Timeless [ A Harry Styles OU ] {1/2}

drabble: the one with the honeymoon

On their first morning together as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Styles are awoken by a blaring noise.

It's a scramble to wake up, let alone locate where the actual sound is coming from. With the combination of sleepy eyes and the mess they made of their bed the night before, it's a considerable task.

Rhea whines, clinging to Harry with a leg thrown between both of his and her arm hugging his body to hers. "Harry, turn it off. You said no phones."

Harry is acutely aware of several things: the dull ache in his hips from spending his first night with his wife, the heavy fog that jet lag still brings around even after all this time, and that his phone is somewhere on the floor, presumably under the pile of sheets that are hanging off their massive canopy bed.

"I know, my love, m'sorry," Harry grumbles, shifting himself up on one elbow. Rhea doesn't seem ready to let go, still clinging to him, so Harry gets creative. He latches onto the edge of the sheet, dragging it back towards him. The sound of his phone gets louder and once it's close enough he finds his phone wrapped in the soft fabric.

He leans back against the pillows once he's got it in hand, letting Rhea snuggle into his neck. He kisses the top of her head while squinting at his bright screen. "S'just mum," he says finally, putting the phone aside. "Making sure we got here alright."

Rhea mumbles a response that Harry can't quite decipher, but he smiles nonetheless, wrapping his arm around her. The early Italian morning rays sneak in through their slightly ajar hotel room curtains, filling the room with a warmth and painting Rhea's caramel skin with an effervescent glow.

Harry's lips quirk up in an automatic grin, his eyes tracing the curves and slopes of her body that's he long since committed to memory. Here though — in this moment, he feels like he's getting to know Rhea Trivedi Williams all over again.

But she's no longer Rhea Trivedi Williams.

No, Harry realizes, she's now Rhea Styles.

If he wasn't awake moments ago, he is now. Harry reaches down and uncurls the duvet around their legs, bringing it up and under Rhea's arm. He covers her up, kissing her head as they get comfy.

Rhea's hand has settled in the center of Harry's bare chest, resting just above his butterfly tattoo. Harry rubs his legs against hers under the sheet, his hand losing itself in her hair, gently scratching to lull her back to sleep.

He glances down at her hand, following the deep red color of her bridal mehndi that was applied just days ago. It trails all the way to the crease of her elbow and while he was there when she got it done, he makes a mental note to set aside time to observe it in detail later. Every curve, every detail, every inch is something he wants to explore.

For now, his eyes draw to the sparkling ring on her finger. Rhea'd insisted on a simple ring, but Harry had made it custom and special for her. The center diamond was an aquamarine lotus cut diamond, surrounded by a circle of smaller regular diamonds. The inside of the band was inscribed with the word 'always' while Harry's own silver band had the words 'my forever' on it. It'd taken him some time to pick out the ring for her, but now in the Italian air during the first day of the rest of their lives — he's absolutely sure he's chosen correctly.

All of the sudden, Harry feels weak. Even though he's lying down, he feels overwhelmed with the knowledge that after everything he and Rhea had been through, everything worked out. She was as much his as he was hers; irrevocably so.

How did he get so lucky?

It doesn't do well for him to dwell on the fact that he almost lost Rhea forever a few years ago, but now he reflects on everything that happened. It feels surreal; to be married to the girl of his dreams. A woman who has so much heart, dedication, and drive. She's everything he's ever wanted and more and it seems too good to be true that she's all his.