Part Of Your World | H.S.

We don't talk about, it's something we don't do

Disclaimer/Warning [Mature content]: Yeah, you know the drill. I've already explained it. Hope this isn't to cringey, but it probably is, so yeah. Enjoy the cringe.

Over the past week it had become something like a natural habit for us to meet up in the empty guest room in halfway through the hallway. Sometimes, or rather most times, we even stayed there afterwards, falling asleep next to each other. I must admit I liked waking up in the middle of the night and not being alone. There were plenty of chances, where I could have gotten up and gone back into my own room, but when I looked over at that beautiful man laying by my side I didn't want to. Listening to the sound of Harry's breathing was calming and actually brought me a peaceful night sleep, even if it was shorter than usual. And although it happened almost every night, we still hadn't talked about it at all.

Today was the day, where I should have been able to catch up on sleep, but instead I had been standing in Harry's kitchen since eight in the morning pre-heating the oven. After a a stressful couple of weeks, we finally had a day off, but rather than using the opportunity to stay in bed and admire Harry's sleepy face, the uncertainty of what was going between us was stressing me out, so much that I escaped out of guest room two to start baking my favorite chocolate chip cookies. Yes, that's when you know it's bad.

When I left, Harry was still curled up in the sheets and I wasn't intending on waking him up, at least one of us deserve to sleep in. It was almost ten, when I had finished the dough, but before I could form cookies out of it, I started another project in order to feel better. I was pouring milk in a pot, when I noticed footsteps coming from the living room, but I didn't bother to turn around, I knew who they were coming from anyway.

"Hot chocolate?", a deep, sleepy voice suddenly whispered into my ear, setting of a shiver that was now running down my spine. Harry placed his arms on both my shoulders, giving them a squeeze as if he was planning on giving me a massage, but instead he tilted his head to the side and planted a soft kiss on a bare spot of my neck, tickling my sensitive skin. The corners of my mouth unwillingly turned up and I completely forgot why I had been anxious all day. So this was how he was, when we didn't have to rush to work the morning after? God d*mn, I should have stayed in bed. "What are you stressed about?"

"Why don't ask that thing in you pants that you're currently pressing against my back?", I said as monotone as possible, adding little pieces of chocolate to the heated milk. In the meantime, Harry had stepped closer to me, hugging me from behind by placing his head on mine to watch me make the hot chocolate I so desperately needed, considering the conversation I was about to have. Honestly, I wasn't seriously complaining, but I didn't even touch him, why was he already excited? He was the one without a shirt on, slowly running his fingers down my arms.

"What?", Harry laughed out loud, jumping away from me, his hands leaving my body to open one of the dozen cupboards in the room. In the process of looking for something in one of the top one I couldn't even reach on tip toes, he stretched his whole body trying to grab an item from the far back and looked very good in doing so. I watched closely for a few seconds too long, almost burning my melted chocolate, and shook my head to regain focus. When Harry finally got hold of the item and placed it in front of me next to the stove, I couldn't believe what I saw: Mini marshmallows. Alright Harry, make me cry, it's fine. I was just trying to have a serious conversation.