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

drabble: the one with the robes

a/n: inspired by these two photos.... 

The house is cold, freezing even — and Harry wakes up in bed by himself. He can feel the cold air outside the warm cocoon of his bed and it's so bothersome he lets his eyes flutter shut again. His arm reaches his palm over, out of habit, to the other side of the bed. He knows she's not there, though.

The cold outside has nothing on the cold that settles inside his chest when Rhea is gone. He doesn't let himself think about how she feels when he's gone, waking up in their massive bed — this beautiful home of theirs, all alone.

Well, not quite alone.

As if she senses her father's morning grumpiness, the baby monitor crackles to life. Mira lets out a whine, then another — and Harry's eyes fly open. A faint smile tugs on his lips. His little alarm clock is up and ready to go.

He pulls off the covers, the three blankets that Rhea has piled on their bed, and sets his feet on the floor. His back twinges in protest but he ignores it, standing up. The air is much colder than he expected and he shivers, about to step out of the master bedroom. His baby's cries are more urgent now, but he ducks into the bathroom to tug on the big fluffy robe that Rhea likes to steal from him.

He pulls it on as he heads down the hall, opening the door to the nursery he and Rhea put together a little over a year ago. The walls are a soft lilac, lighter than the robe he's wearing. Harry remembers every single thing in the nursery, when they bought it, put it together. The white plush carpet under Mira's crib, the vintage billboard letters with bulbs in them that spell out her name on the far wall, the blankets and closet full of carefully chosen outfits.

But none of it compares to the grumpy little girl peering at him through the bars of her crib. Harry smiles, dimples bright as he walks towards her. His daughter, 10 months old, peers up at him with sleepy eyes. She reaches for him with her little arms, making his heart swell. She looks exactly like Rhea — with her dark hair, sweet gummy smile, and that sleepy look Harry has seen so many times before.

For as long as he can remember, Rhea has been the love of his life. She always will be, but from the moment he found out about Mira his heart grew for one more person. He's lucky he got a little version of his wife, aside from her green eyes.

"Hi baby," Harry greets, scooping her up into his arms. Mira buries her little face into the plush fabric of his robe, clinging to it. Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head, his finger tips losing themselves in her curls. "Did we have a good sleep?"

Mira's answer is the only word she has in her vocabulary for now. "Mumma," she says, peering up at Harry from where her head is resting against his shoulder.

"I know," Harry tells her quietly, kissing her forehead. He misses mumma too.

Mira's little hand pats her little hand against the fabric of his robe, brushing it back and forth. Harry captures her little hand and kisses it. "Do you like daddy's robe, baby? Soft, huh?"