Mornings. Harry's favorite part of the day. He loves getting up bright and early and starting the day right.
He's awake before his alarm goes off, something that's been happening a lot usually due to the cold. His girlfriend insists on keeping the heat on low, and Harry's known to get a little colder than everyone else, but if she convinces him, then so be it. It's not that bad when he's falling asleep because they're still snuggled up against each other and he finds her to be – literally – the hottest person he's ever met, so her body on top of his is like a furnace. However, when he wakes up in the morning, he feels the bite of the cold as they've shifted away from each other.
His neck raises his head off his pillow, glancing over at her. She's still asleep, hair stuck to her face and brows furrowed together. With a slow movement, he leans in and presses a chaste kiss on her forehead.
Then, he pushes the sheets off of his bare torso and sits upright in bed. He rolls his tense neck until he hears a couple cracks and then does the same to his back and knuckles. His floppy hair falls into his eyes, but with a quick sweep of his hand, the problem is fixed. He stands and stretches, letting out a few yawns as he heads to the bathroom.
His morning routine is fairly simple. Shower, brush teeth, maybe shave, and get dressed. It's only the studio he needs to be at today, so he's not looking to be dressing lavishly. A pair of pants and sneakers will do, in contrast to the over the top suits he wears to interviews and, most of all, concerts.
As much as Harry likes to be awake, he chooses to turn the dial all the way to the left this morning, causing the water come out as steaming hot. He sighs as the water hits him, relaxing his muscles nicely, the fog covering the windows. The shower is where he brainstorms and thinks as much as he can before he has to face the harsh reality of the world, so it's no surprise when his mind wanders at this time.
All he can think of it his girlfriend still wrapped up prettily in his sheets. Maybe he should've given a proper look at her. He imagines her hands trailing up his back and around to his chest, fingering the edges of his butterfly tattoo as his stomach tenses under her touch, goosebumps arising even though the water is practically boiling. Her hands dip just a bit lower, quickly moving back when he breathes harshly, nearly feeling the faintness of her fingers on him. The feeling of her body pressed against his, skin against skin, a beautiful memory of last night that has his hand gravitating towards the base of his cock, but he holds himself back, knowing he doesn't need to tug a weak orgasm from himself when she's literally asleep outside. He can wait.
He keeps his hands away, instead reaching for the shampoo and squirting it onto his hand. He doesn't care which one he grabs. They both are hers anyways.
When he comes out, low towel around his hips he's surprised to hear the bathroom door open and close. The window is fogged up and he uses a hand to swipe at it, revealing himself.
"Hi," Y/N says, appearing in the doorway, knuckling her eye. He catches a look of her from the mirror, eyes softening at the sight. She's clearly still half asleep, yet she's made the effort of wandering into the bathroom even during this state...and for what?
"Hi," he answers softly. "Why are you awake, my love? I thought we talked about this."
It's true. They had talked about it when his girl would get up when he would, at any hour of any day. There wasn't a time during the first few weeks of their relationship when she'd slept in or when she was able to sleep after he'd gotten up. She claimed he made the bed warm and when he left it was cold. Harry told her he understood that, but there was no reason for her to be up at five in the morning sometimes when she had work at nine.
