little do you know: the december drabbles // niall horan au

day 4: a snowball fight (in which mona reminds niall of home)

Niall woke up with his arms curled around a sleeping Mona, bodies pressed together and legs a tangled mess beneath the sheets. Her head was resting peacefully in the crook of his neck, fingers clutching onto the fabric of his t-shirt, the material bunched up in her hands and exposing the flesh of his stomach. Blinking and letting out a groggy sigh, he let his eyes admire Mona in all of her sleeping beauty for a moment before snapping back into reality.

Because Mona always smelled like peppermint—or just mint in general—and that in itself caused alarm bells to ring in Niall's ears because that scent reminded him too much of home. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to remember it. He left for a reason after all. But then Mona was nuzzling closer, her body instantly molding to his own warmth, and then the scent became almost overwhelming. Suddenly, memories of drinking mint tea for dinner instead of actual food was flashing behind his eyelids, because his Dah only worked enough to afford one square meal a day for the three of them. It didn't help that Niall always got hungry, or that he'd always receive a dirty look when he'd audibly say so, because Niall always had to find ways to curb his appetite, and the way that worked the best was consuming mints.

His Dah always said that it shouldn't work, but Niall didn't care, because even if it was probably a myth, it was a strangely effective one. When Niall moved to the States a few years later, he'd learned in a gen ed class during freshman year that his Dah may have actually been right, that even though it worked, it may have all been psychological. He didn't care, though. It didn't matter anymore.

He'd managed to wriggle out of Mona's grasp, a bit fearful of that fact that if she woke up and found their bodies pressed together, she'd freak out and may think ill of him. Tenderly, he moved her hand so her fingers would curl around her pillow instead, cautiously easing her head from his shoulder, waiting until she stopped squirming before he even dared to move again. When he'd slipped out from beneath her sheets, he swiped his glasses from the floor beside her bed, running his hands through his hair before retreating from the room, and he swore he could still smell the scent of her clinging to his skin, only one word swirling in his mind: home.

When he'd made his way down the stairs and entered the sitting room, he was surprised to find the rest of his friends already up and ready to start the day, and he wondered how long he'd slept in.

"Morning!" Harlow greeted brightly from her spot on the couch, a mug of coffee clutched tightly in her hands and a fire roaring in the fireplace despite the fact that it was early in the morning, and that was when Niall knew that Harlow was way too enthusiastic about this whole experience. "There's a pot of coffee brewing in the kitchen if you want some."

"Thanks," he mumbled groggily, shuffling his way to the kitchen only to find Harry, Liam, and Zayn swarming about, ransacking the cabinets and fridge in search of food. "What are you lot up to?" Niall asked, and almost instantly, the attention of the three boys was diverted to him. "You're making an absolute mess of the place."

"'M'hungry," Harry said simply, reaching for the bag of flour. "And I want pancakes."

Niall couldn't just stand there and watch three tornados storm the kitchen, muddling any and everything in their paths. So he simply strode over to Harry, taking the flour from his hands and shooing the rest of them out, all with the promise that he'd make the pancakes only if they kept away. Before long, he'd easily whipped up the batter and had a rather large stack of pancakes that was steadily growing. Soon, he had a mountain of food, enough for a cabin of hungry people.

"It's snowing!" Harlow exclaimed from the dining table, which was pushed towards the back of the sitting room. Mona was sitting in the seat beside her, and Niall tried to ignore the sudden lump in his throat when she smiled at him. It was as if he could still feel her lips pressed softly beneath his jawline, her even puffs of breath still fanning gently across his skin, and he had to physically shake his head to rid his mind of the thoughts. "We should have a snowball fight!"

"What are you? Five?" Zayn grumbled, his eyes lighting up a bit at the sight of Niall carrying a mountain of pancakes. "Niall!" he grinned, happily taking the plate from his hands. "You're a godsend, d'you know that?"

Niall shrugged. "Yeah, I've heard that a few times."

"First ice skating and now a snowball fight?! Are you people trying to kill me?" Mona asked incredulously, banging her fork against the table as if to emphasize that she will not be leaving that cabin to play in the snow. Everyone had caught on to her inane hatred of the cold.

Everyone ignored her. Instead, Harlow looked at Niall, her small smile stretching into a bigger one. "You made these yourself? You should've asked one of us to help you."

Niall huffed out a laugh, helping himself to a plateful of food. "No way. You lot would've probably burned the kitchen down."

They all shared a laugh, eating in an amicable silence, eyes usually glancing at the window to watch as the snowflakes gently fell from the clouds and onto the earth below. When breakfast was over and Mona simply couldn't stall any longer, they found themselves outside, the snow slowing to a soft shower of flurries as Harlow, Zayn, Harry, and Liam threw snowballs aimed for someone's face. And despite the fact that he didn't really mind indulging in a bit of snowball fun, Niall found himself lingering on the sidelines alongside Mona, the scent of mint and the memory of their limbs tangled together lingering in his mind.