Crooked Heart

Fiona unlocked the door to Allison’s flat, her ears picking up on music coming from further inside. Her heart gave a little tug, because Allison was listening to The National, which Harry had been particularly into as of late, putting it on while he messed about in the kitchen. Fiona left her boots by the door, dropping her bag on the sofa before heading into the other room. She found Allison at the stove, pouring pasta into a pot.

“Hiya,” Allison greeted, glancing over her shoulder. “All right?”

“Yeah. You?”

Allison nodded as Fiona went to put on the kettle. “How was work?”

“Boring. It’s weird working days at a cinema. When’s Cass gonna be here?”

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Allison replied, checking her phone. “She said seven thirty.”

“Okay,” Fiona grabbed a mug from the cupboard, dropped a tea bag in, then went to fetch the milk. “I think I’m gonna change. Was it still part of the plan to go to the pub after?”

“No, Cassidy said she was bringing a bottle of wine and we can just chill out here.”

“Brilliant, that means I can wear joggers.”

Once the kettle had boiled, Fiona made her tea and carried the mug to the room she’d been staying in for the last few days. It was one of Allison’s roommates’ bedrooms, but it was the nicer one who didn’t totally hate Fiona (for absolutely no reason) and she’d agreed to let Fiona stay in there as long as she stripped the bed afterwards and washed the sheets.

She was living out of a holdall for the foreseeable future. Fiona’s anger at Niall and Harry had faded after forty-eight hours, but she quickly came to realize how much she liked being around another girl — not to mention one who understood her better than anyone else, even Harry, though he was coming close. Fiona simply missed her best mate, the one who’d been with her through everything, who had never tried to tell her to be anything other than who she was. Fiona wasn’t angry with Niall and Harry. She just wanted to be with Allison.

She hadn’t bothered texting either of the boys because she figured she’d run into at least one of them when she went to grab some stuff from the flat. She got Niall, and told him what the situation was, then requested that he tell Harry. She’d be back, just not yet. Niall had taken it surprisingly well, and considering she hadn’t received a single text from Harry other than the one she got last night that read I’m ready whenever you are, he was giving her space.

That was part of it too. She had a feeling she knew what she wanted to say, but until she was certain, she was going to stay away. This time was important. It had to count.

After changing into joggers and taking off her bra, Fiona wandered back to the kitchen clutching her tea to her chest. It didn’t taste right, even though she’d put in just the right amount of milk. The bloody tea bags were even from her own cupboard, but something was still off. Fiona was trying to convince herself that it really was the tea that was bothering her, and not something else.

Cassidy arrived not long after that, looking about as casual as Cassidy Lim could, in leggings and a long turtleneck jumper. She’d tied half her hair into a knot atop her head, her face free of makeup. She placed a book of matches in Fiona’s hand after giving her a hug. “This is from Zayn,” she said. “Not sure what it’s about.”

“A tattoo idea,” Fiona explained, rolling her eyes at the matches in her palm before dropping it onto the counter.

“You gonna get him to do it?”

“Yeah, either on my ankle or on the back of my arm, just above my elbow, like.”

“Cool. You getting a matchbook? Or, like, what’s the idea?”

“Just a match, with a little flame. I guess this was his idea of a joke.”

Cassidy grinned. “It would be.”

They lingered in the kitchen while Allison finished up the pasta, then relocated to the living room. It hadn’t been totally decided what the evening’s plans were, but there was wine and food and that was all they needed. It had been a while since it was just the girls, and Fiona let herself get absorbed in discussion over something Renaissance related. She wasn’t well versed in the subject, but was happy to sit and listen and not think for a while. The combination of that, comfort food, and wine, and she was feeling warm and content.

Allison took notice of it a few hours after Cassidy had arrived. “You haven’t gone out for a cigarette,” she remarked.

Fiona hadn’t even thought about it. “Oh, yeah,” she shrugged. “I haven’t been smoking as much this past week.”

“Even though—”

“Yeah,” she interrupted, with a cursory glance Cassidy’s way.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Cassidy said with a soft smile. “I’m happy to see you like this. After what I’ve heard from Harry and Zayn, I was worried.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you were so eager to come over?”

“Of course not! Fiona,” Cassidy said, her eyebrows scrunching together. “I only meant that they’re worried about you too, and we haven’t spoken so much lately, so I only know what I’ve heard from Harry.”

“I understand, I was just… now that I know I’m the subject of discussion among you guys, or sorry — I mean my mental state is the subject of discussion, I’m not so eager to divulge information. You are sort of on their side of things.”

“They talk, I don’t,” Cassidy said firmly. “I wouldn’t do that. Besides, Harry’s always spoken to Zayn about you. It’s not even you, it’s your relationship. Whether he’s doing things right or not. I don’t know what Niall’s been saying, but that’s all I’ve heard.”

Fiona nodded, adding this new information to what she already knew — or suspected, at least. “Thank you for telling me that,” she said. “I probably would’ve continued thinking the worst if you hadn’t.”

“If you ever want to know what the boys talk about when you aren’t around, just ask me. Zayn usually tells me most of it, or they forget I’m in the room.”

Fiona grinned. “I may just take you up on that in future.”

A few hours later, Cassidy bid them goodbye. She would’ve stayed over if she didn’t have to be at the gallery in the morning, and she gave Fiona an extra long hug before heading out the door. Fiona wrapped her arms around herself afterwards, following Allison back into the living room. “I needed that,” she said.

“So did I, to be honest,” Allison sighed, flopping onto the sofa. Fiona followed suit a moment later, reaching forward for her wine glass. “I mean, I can only take so much of your grumpy arse before I need a break.”

“Oi!” Fiona exclaimed, whacking her friend with a pillow.

Allison laughed, but then her expression grew softer. “I’ve really liked having you here,” she said with a smile. “It’s better than my actual flatmates, even when you’re in a mood. Which you haven’t been, for the record. I think that bath you took the other night has paid off.”

Taking a sip of wine, Fiona rolled her eyes. “I’m really glad I stayed,” she admitted. “I’d probably have killed Niall by now.”

“Oh! Speaking of,” Allison said, leaning forward. “We’ve got a date next week.”

“What? You and Niall?” Fiona asked, leaning forward. “Since when? Why haven’t I heard about it?”

“I texted him, like you said I should, to ask if he wanted to meet for coffee and have a chat about what’s been going on. He rang me instead of texting back, said he was relieved I’d asked cos it’d been bothering him for a while that things were still a bit weird with us. So, coffee. Not a date, I guess. But it’s something, yeah?”

“I hope it goes well,” Fiona said honestly.

“Me too,” Allison shrugged. “But if it doesn’t, at least we tried, right?”

“Exactly.” Fiona grinned, waggling her eyebrows at Allison over her glass. “You’re gonna tell me all about it, yeah?”

Allison waved a hand. “Of course.”

“Good. I expect Niall probably will as well, if I’m back living with him by then.”

‘D’you…” Allison began, her voice growing hesitant. “D’you think you will be?”

“Dunno,” Fiona replied with a shrug. She stared down at the red liquid in her glass as she swirled it around. “I mean, I can’t stay away forever. But it’s not really Niall I’m worried about.”

“Course, yeah. Have you spoken to Harry?” Fiona shook her head. “Babe, you should. Now that I’m getting my shit together and going out for coffee with Niall, you’ve got to get yours in order too. Harry’s probably worried sick, as well, you heard what Cassidy was saying.”

“Yeah,” Fiona said, swirling the wine in her glass. “He hasn’t texted or anything, except for that one I got last night.”

“What did it say?” Fiona grabbed her phone off the coffee table and showed the message to Allison. “Well, it doesn’t seem like he’s upset.”

“For all I know he could be furious that I haven’t replied,” Fiona muttered, setting her phone back down. “He’s impossible to read. It’s like, he wants to do whatever’s best for everyone else, and ends up losing himself a little bit. Or maybe he’s just got a bunch of different sides to him. I have no idea.”

“He’s selfless.”

Fiona shook her head. “That’s just it. He isn’t, not really.”

“He’s human, then.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the only way of putting it. Other than bloody confusing.”

+++

The black jeans Fiona usually wore to work were in the wash at Allison’s, along with the black leggings she’d brought. Just to avoid getting told off by the manager, she made her way back to her own flat to grab her other pair of black jeans. On the way there she was hoping that it would be empty, and she could just pop in and change, but of course, things never worked out that way.

Fiona unlocked the door quietly, listening for any sound of occupancy. She didn’t hear anything. But then she opened the door of her bedroom and saw him, curled up on his side of the bed, face buried in a pillow and not even under the covers. He was in his trousers from work, but his cook’s jacket was crumpled on the floor along with his bag, like he’d collapsed on the mattress the second he got in and gone straight to sleep.

For a moment, she considered grabbing her jeans and going. But the longer she looked at his sleeping form, the less she wanted to leave.

But she didn’t get to decide after all, because when she took a step further into the room, Harry woke up. He peered around blearily, pushing the curls out of his eyes, and when his gaze landed on her he froze. “Fee?”

“Hey,” she said. “You can go back to sleep. I just came to get a pair of jeans.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked, sitting up. His brow was furrowed, and she could feel him studying her as she went over to the closet and pulled out the jeans she’d come for. “When—” he said, then stopped abruptly. “You look better. Niall said you’ve been at Allison’s. I… you’ve been sleeping, then? Or, you don’t have to tell me. But I’d like to know that… if you’re all right. I’ll be honest, I’ve been sleeping here in hopes you’d show up.”

Something in her chest tightened at the defeat in his voice. “Every night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you I’d be staying at Allison’s for a while.”

He shrugged, picking at the blanket. “It’s… well, it hasn’t been great. I want to give you time or whatever it is you need, but if you’re still mad about what happened—”

“I’m not,” she interrupted.

Harry’s eyes flew wide. “Then why’ve you been gone so long?”

Fiona couldn’t help the sheepish smile that stretched over her lips. “I needed some girl time. I’ve been a shite friend to Allison.”

“So you made up for that by ignoring the rest of us. I think you need to learn to organize your time better, Fee,” Harry said, but he didn’t sound particularly angry. “Or send a text, at the very least.”

“Sorry.” She raked her hair back, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, unsure as to whether or not she should just leave. “What were you doing sleeping in the middle of the day, by the way?”

“Double shift,” he explained. “I worked last night, didn’t get to sleep until two, and then I had to be in at six to help with prep because we’re short staffed this week in pastry, and a guy didn’t turn up so I helped out for breakfast. Even though I was basically dead on my feet, I sort of enjoyed it. I miss working the line.”

“You must be exhausted,” she said. “Go to sleep, I’ll get out of here.”

He shook his head, eyes imploring. “I’m awake now. And I’d like to talk, if you’re ready.” When she hesitated, he leaned forward. “At least tell me you’re all right. I’ve been dead worried your sleep’s been worse, that you aren’t… god, Fee, I don’t even know what’s wrong, and I hate it.”

“I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information,” she admitted.

“And I’m used to that,” he said. “But usually I can tell when something’s up, and I’ve missed it this time. It took bloody Niall for me to notice. I’m sorry for what happened. For not telling you Niall had asked me to stay over more. I didn’t mean for you to—”

She narrowed her eyes. “What, for me to hear you discussing my mental state?”

“No, Fee, of course we weren’t trying to—neither of us was focused on that. You know Niall, he just wants everyone to be happy all the time, because he doesn’t know what to do when they aren’t.”

Harry had a point. And after the time she’d had to think, her opinion on the whole matter had begun to shift. Not to the point where she forgave him for discussing things behind her back (especially sensitive subjects like this) but where she could see his point of view. Harry had never been anything but thoughtful in all of his actions, even when his main goal in life was to annoy the living hell out of her.

“I think…” she started, losing her confidence halfway. Fiona edged closer to the bed, her eyes everywhere but on Harry. Everything she’d been thinking while she’d been staying with Allison — and before that, too, when her friend told her it was okay to be vulnerable sometimes — was swirling in her head. Fiona had been more vulnerable than she ever wanted to be without even knowing it, letting things get inside her head that messed it all up. If she was going to try and set things on the right course again, she had to be vulnerable again. Intentionally, this time. “I actually think you were right. About some things, at least.”

“What?”

“It pisses the hell out of me, but I can’t ignore the evidence, can I? You do make me better. I’ve never wanted to be that person who was dependent on somebody else, for anything really, and I suppose it made me angry not just that you thought that, but that it’s true.”

“Woah, slow down, Fee. Whatever Niall said about you being more irritable when I wasn’t around didn’t have to do with being too dependent on me,” he said.

“It didn’t?”

“No,” he said firmly. He motioned for her to sit down, and after a moment of hesitation, she went around the bed and sat on the edge. She sat close to him, but not as close as usual. He’d kicked the blanket aside, and slid over so one of his legs hung off the edge of the bed and the other tucked under it. “We’ve been in this weird half-fight for weeks now, and I think it’s easier to ignore when we’re together. We distract each other pretty well.”

She set the jeans aside, hands knotted in her lap. She still couldn’t look at him directly. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“I dunno. To be honest I don’t even remember what we’re fighting about anymore,” he waved a hand, giving a scoff. “It’s like there’s this underlying issue or something that’s in the way. Can you think of anything? Something we haven’t talked about?”

That was how they’d been solving their problems, talking (or shouting) until it was all out in the open and they felt better. It worked for the most part, but there was still something picking at their seams, something from before, making everything else build up as it kept on weighing over Fiona’s head.

“Yeah,” she murmured, when she figured it out. The last secret that mattered. There would always be secrets, things you didn’t have to tell your partner because it wasn’t connected to them. That was just human nature. It was the secrets that tied two people together by a thread that shouldn’t be kept in the dark. Those were the ones that tugged and pulled until everything unravelled. Harry must’ve read something in her face, because he edged closer and slid a hand up her thigh, fingers curling around her hip.

“Fee?”

“Like, ages ago now,” she began haltingly. “Zayn’s birthday actually, when you let me sleep in your room. I saw your books and I let my curiosity get the best of me… I’m sorry, Harry, I never meant to invade your privacy like that without your permission, and then I didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve felt horrible ever since, especially after you told me yourself—“

“Wait, Fiona, what are you talking about?”

She met his searching gaze, feeling horrible. “I read your journals.”

Harry’s expression was unreadable for a moment before going completely blank. “You read them.”

“Not all of them! Just the really old ones, like from two years ago. And I didn’t look at any of the personal entries, either, I just… I saw one of your poems and I couldn’t stop.”

His expression hadn’t changed. “Just the poems, then? Did ever occur to you that they might be the most personal things in there?”

Fiona was almost certain she’d dug herself a hole she wouldn’t be able to get out of. She was glad she’d told him, but sorry for the result. “I… it wasn’t the same then, Harry. I know that’s a terrible excuse, and I feel awful for reading them, but they’re really good.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” she replied, and he raised his eyebrows. Fiona tucked her hair behind her ears, angling herself so she faced him properly. This was it, the conversation she’d been trying to work up the confidence to have. It wasn’t going how she’d hoped. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this. I know how important those journals are to you, and the level of trust you must feel to even write in them when I’m around. And I’ve completely ruined that. But what you said, about something being in the way, that’s what it is,” she said with a halfhearted shrug.

Harry hummed, rubbing his thighs with his palms, staying quiet. Fiona carried on, feeling her voice grow weaker as she got closer to the things that were even more difficult to admit. “If it makes a difference, they made me look at you for the first time. Like someone I could see myself with, even though the idea absolutely terrified me. I did something totally inappropriate and disrespectful, but it also made me realize I had to change my perspective. You made me realize that. It wasn’t even one of the poems — and I know I said that I didn’t read anything else, but it was this little note, from, like, March or something of last year that made me want to see what else you’d written, before I told myself that I shouldn’t be aware of your personal thoughts like that. You’d remembered something I said about myself and disagreed. You saw something in me that I couldn’t, way before I even entertained the possibility that I might actually be capable of being a decent person. And after I read that, I knew I couldn’t keep thinking of you the way I had been since we met, because you… you mean so much to me, Harry.”

When Fiona looked at him again, instead of at her hands, her eyes pricked with tears. Harry’s mouth was halfway toward a smile, but his eyebrows were still furrowed. She held her breath. “It makes a difference,” he replied, his voice rasping with how low it was. “I know what you’re talking about. You said that thing about your heart that was definitely a reference to the Auden poem, yeah?” he asked, his voice growing softer with each word. Fiona nodded. “You know, I’ve changed my mind a bit since then. I think we’re all a little crooked in our hearts. I mean, who wants to be straight? How boring is that?”

She would’ve cried if the laugh didn’t bubble up in her throat first, making her cover her mouth to stop from going hysterical. It wasn’t even funny, she was just so utterly relieved that something she’d done months ago hadn’t made them unravel. Without thinking, she threw herself at Harry, knocking him back onto the mattress, and his arms wound around her waist as he pulled her close and didn’t let go. “You’re straight,” she murmured against his neck, before pressing a kiss there.

“I’d date Zayn.”

“He doesn’t count.”

“Why?”

“Because Niall would date Zayn, and he’s the straightest person on the planet. Besides, being a little bit gay is really annoying. Don’t bring it up again.”

“I appreciate that you appreciate the double meaning in this conversation.”

“You know I still would’ve hit you if you’d made that straight/crooked joke, right?”

“But I just did, and you laughed.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed,” she said, hoisting herself up and lifting one leg over his hips, palms sliding down his chest as she sat up, straddling him.

Harry licked his lips. “They certainly have.” Then he was sitting up too, their chests touching, and he brushed his nose against hers before catching her lips in a soft kiss. It was too short for her liking, but Harry’s expression was serious when he pulled away, so she held herself back. “For the record, this doesn’t mean I’m okay with you reading my journals.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to share my thoughts and stuff with you, but I’d like to do it on my own terms,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed to be discussing it at all. “And I’m mad at you for reading them, because you took that away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s like when I read over your shoulder.”

“I hate that.”

“So you understand,” he said. Fiona nodded, reaching up to tug on one of his curls. A muscle jumped in Harry’s jaw, but he kept a straight face. “I’m not finished yet.”

She set her hands on his shoulders, smiling sheepishly.

“Remember when we first started this? And I asked you to promise that you’d be honest with me?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve been horrible at it.”

“Agreed.”

“So we should try and do better, right?”

Fiona nodded. “If it’s something you need to know, I’ll tell you.”

“Even stuff that doesn’t directly concern me,” Harry said, and Fiona frowned. “I mean if it’s something that’s making you sad or angry, whatever, you can tell me about it. Only if you want to. That’s why I’m here, Fee. So you have someone to tell these things to. When you shut me out, it makes me think that you aren’t someone I can talk to about my stuff.”

“I feel like this is a conversation we’ve had before.”

To his credit, he didn’t blame her, even though it was her fault that they were stuck. For the most part, she was the one that struggled with having honest discussions. When they did, it either dissolved into an argument or she ran out. “And we’ll probably have it again,” he said.

“What if I don’t want to talk? What if it’s something that I can’t say, that I don’t want to put on you?”

“Then tell me what it is you do want,” he replied. “And if that thing is a hug, you know I give great hugs.”

“What if—”

“I’m sure whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Fiona wanted to move off of him; her instincts were to create a barrier. But the physical closeness was making her feel more secure, and it was helping her to be open about her thoughts. “But what if I need to be alone?”

“I think the last few weeks have proven that things will be okay when you need to be alone.”

“But we’ve been all over the place.”

“You’ve got to stop worrying about that, Fee.”

“I can’t,” she lamented. “That’s what you don’t get, Harry. It’s not something I can just turn off.”

Harry took a deep breath through his nose, lips pressed together. He was the one to nudge her leg, maybe because his back was getting stiff, urging her off of his lap. Harry rolled his shoulders, then scooted to the head of the bed and leaned against it. “C’mere,” he murmured. Fiona moved closer, but she didn’t tuck herself in under his arm. She sat facing him instead, legs folded and hands clasped in her lap. Harry sighed before reach out and grabbing her hands, gently loosening her fingers. “Fiona, that’s exactly the sort of thing that I want to know. If I’m just guessing, I’m bound to get things wrong and upset you.”

She stared at their hands, reminding herself that it was okay. Just because her heart was racing and her first reaction was to grab her cigarettes and go outside to calm herself down and build up her walls again, didn’t mean that was the path she had to follow. “I get anxious sometimes,” she whispered, feeling her throat already start to close up. “Sometimes, it causes insomnia. Other times, the insomnia makes me anxious. Usually I can manage it, I’ve been okay for the better part of a year. But when it gets triggered, I’m not very easy to be around. Allison’s the only other person who knows. She thinks that I should start seeing someone, but that will be like properly acknowledging that I’m not okay, and I’m fucking terrified of that day.”

The words had tumbled from her lips after that initial hesitation. By the end, her knuckles were white with how hard she was squeezing Harry’s hands, her breaths were shaky, and tears were blurring her vision. “Fee,” Harry whispered, pulling her against his chest. She tucked her head under his chin, fisting her hand in his t-shirt, while he rubbed her back and hugged her close. He didn’t say anything else, but she was relieved that he took the silent, supportive route, because then she didn’t have to explain herself further or respond to whatever he had to say.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Fiona lifted her head when Harry’s hand stilled on her back. He met her eyes with an affectionate smile, brushing away a stray tear on her cheek with his thumb. “See? Great hugs.”

For the second time that afternoon, Fiona laughed in relief. “Thank you.”

“What did I do?” Harry asked, looking genuinely curious.

“You make me feel safe.”

Harry appeared honoured for a moment before grinning. “When will you start giving yourself more credit?”

“Not this again,” she groaned. “I’m trying to say that I’m not the brave, whatever girl you seem to think I am.”

“I disagree,” Harry replied, brows raised. “You’re absolutely her. But you’re also this girl, and I would expect there’s a few other versions somewhere. That’s the magic of people, Fee. They’re never just one thing.”

“That sounds like you read it in a book.”

“Probably did. Nothing’s original these days. Maybe I got it from one of the books you gave me,” Harry said, then lifted his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek. “I hope I can keep being that person for you. It feels better, doesn’t it? Talking about it?”

“I’m glad you know,” she replied.

“Now, are there any more serious things that need to be said? Or can I kiss you?”

“Please,” she murmured. “I’m all out of words, anyway.”

Harry smiled as he leaned in, catching her bottom lip in between his and giving it a gentle tug before kissing her in earnest. Fiona returned the kiss impatiently, grasping his face in her hands, consumed by how lovely he was and how well the dreaded conversation had gone. She was dizzy with relief and pure happiness, which she hadn’t felt in so long that it was almost enough to make her pause for a second and appreciate it. But with Harry there, touching her like there was no place he’d rather be, she let herself get lost in him instead.

It wasn’t like the other times. There was no laughing or teasing, which Fiona loved, just breathy sighs and moans and disgruntled muttering when the zipper on her jeans wouldn’t budge. Harry pulled the faded blue denim off Fiona’s legs with a satisfied smirk when the zipper finally gave way, but she held back her comment about how he was acting awfully proud of himself for getting her trousers off, because she kind of liked what was happening this time too.

Harry shed his work trousers and pants at the same time, moving back over once they’d been tossed aside, taking his time, lips trailing up from her hipbones to her breasts. She’d already been divested of her shirt and bra, and Harry covered one of her nipples with his mouth, giving it a flick with his tongue. One of his hands had slipped down her stomach and between her legs, and he slowly dragged his finger over her knickers.

“Hang on, wanna try something.” She pushed his shoulder so he rolled onto his back. She knelt next to his shoulder, licking her lips. “D’you remember the last time you went down on me?”

Harry raised his eyebrows, his mouth quirking at the corner, causing his dimple to show. “How could I forget?” he asked, then frowned. “That was ages ago.”

“Yes,” Fiona agreed. Her lower abdomen was already coiling at the thought. “We should do that again.”

“Happy to oblige,” Harry said with a smirk. “If that’s what you wanted, then why did you—oh. Right.”

Fiona bit her lip, unsure. “If you aren’t cool with it then—”

“No, that’s actually… yeah,” Harry made a vague nodding motion. “Good thing you’ve got killer thighs from all that running, yeah? Now you don’t have to worry about falling over. Actually, you squirm a lot. Are you sure this is the best idea?”

She’d done it before, but didn’t feel like that was the right thing to say. “Won’t know until we try, will we?”

“I like your attitude, Fee.”

Fiona smacked his arm before sitting back so she could pull off her knickers, dropping them off the side of the bed. When she turned back around, Harry had propped himself up on his elbows. He gave her a cheeky grin before wetting his lips, drawing her attention to them like he knew it would. Fiona leaned over, holding Harry’s face between her hands, and kissed him hard, tongue swiping over his lip and into his mouth. Harry responded eagerly, almost sitting up again, but she put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. He let his head fall back against the mattress and reached a hand over to grasp her leg, sliding his palm up the back of her thigh to her bum. He gave it a squeeze, then a pat.

It made Fiona lift her head, one eyebrow raised. “Did you just—”

“C’mon,” he urged, his voice throaty and low.

Fiona sat back on her heels, Harry’s hand still on the underside of her thigh, pushing her hair out of her face. The last time she’d done this, it had been pretty fucking amazing, and with the things Harry’s mouth did to her on any other night, Fiona had absolutely no doubts that it would be even better than it had been then. Before she could overthink it, or he changed his mind, she shifted over and lifted a knee, setting it down on the other side of his head.

The fact that Harry was grinning wolfishly was reassuring in an odd sort of way, and she leaned back a little so she could give him one last chance to back out. He had both hands on her bum now, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. “Don’t fall,” he warned with a smirk.

“Fuck off,” she retorted.

“Hang onto the headboard if you have to,” he suggested, urging her to move upright. When she did, his lips brushed against the inside of her thigh, one of his hands moving around to hold onto her hip, like he was preparing for the moment her legs got weak.

“It’s not gonna happen that fast,” she muttered. He chose that moment to swipe his tongue over her, causing the muscles in her abdomen tense in surprise, before she relaxed again.

Harry got into a rhythm quickly, but that rhythm happened to be agonizingly drawn out. It was like he wanted her to be trembling by the end of it, just to prove his own point that she’d fall over. And Fiona, ever the stubborn competitor, grasped the metal bars of the headboard to make sure that she didn’t. Of course, she was fighting an upward battle, because in the time they’d been together Harry had learned her body well, knowing exactly how to make her come undone.

When she felt her orgasm building, Fiona silently told her lower half not to shudder like it usually did. At the same time, Harry’s grip on her tightened, like he knew she was nearing the edge. Fiona let go of the bar with one hand and reached down to thread her fingers through Harry’s hair, using her grasp on his curls to direct him back to her clit, because no matter how much she liked it when he took his time, the tension was killing her and she was desperate for release. Harry obliged, like always, and grew even more fervent in his actions, sucking hard on her clit. It made her cry out, his name spilling from her lips.

Fiona grabbed the headboard again with the hand that had been in Harry’s hair so she didn’t pull on it too hard. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, as her muscles tensed up and her knees wobbled, waves of pleasure rocking through her. Harry kept a firm hold on her hips, his hands and her rigid grip on the headboard the only thing keeping her upright. Had only one been loosened, she definitely would’ve fallen over. Instead, she tilted her head back and sighed, relieved that Harry’s lips had shifted back to her thigh, leaving a few featherlight kisses along her skin, because anywhere close to her centre would be too much stimulation.

A moment later, when she could move her legs, Fiona fell onto her back next to Harry. She tilted her head to look at him, smiling deliriously. “That was…top notch work.”

Harry laughed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before shifting onto his side. He hooked an arm around her middle and placed a kiss on her shoulder. “I definitely thought you’d fall for a minute there,” he teased.

“Well, I didn’t.” .

Though her body was still settling, it was difficult to ignore the lick of warmth that swirled inside her when Harry adjusted his position and, rather suddenly, there was a hard cock pressing against her hip. It was probably just to give himself a bit of release, since he’d gone without while he pleasured her. When she trailed a finger along the leaf inked over his left hipbone, Harry’s lower half jerked, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Does that mean you’re good?” he asked.

“My legs are still pretty much useless,” she informed him. Her thighs felt like jelly. “But if you’re willing to do the work, you’re very welcome to fuck me.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her sarcastic tone. “One of these days you’re going to have to go down on me first so this doesn’t keep happening.”

“I blame you,” Fiona said airily. Harry had sat up to retrieve a condom from the bedside table, and he glanced at her over his shoulder, brows raised. “Come on, Harry, you’re a pushover. You just let me tell you what to do.”

He hesitated before answering. “Only because you’re stubborn as fuck. The most I can do is tease you. It’s all I’ve ever been able to do.”

She pursed her lips, because he was right. “Well, next time, I solemnly swear to go down on you first.”

“Thanks, Fee.”

“See? I can be a team player.”

Harry grinned, turning back around. He situated himself over her, then leaned over, his nose bumping against hers before their mouths connected, her bottom lip caught between both of his. Fiona slid her hands over his shoulders and into his hair, her fingers getting tangled in the curls. She was still wet from before, but Harry trailed a hand over her torso, fingertips grazing the more sensitive spots on her sides and making her shiver, building up the anticipation for when he finally entered her.

Though she was sure he probably would’ve liked to draw this out too, Harry didn’t last more than a few minutes. Fiona didn’t get anywhere near another orgasm, but she was still content from the last one, and swirled her hips a little just to make up for not being able to do much else. It seemed to work, and Harry left a bruising mark against her collarbone as his pace grew sloppier, their hips knocking together at rapid intervals. Fiona refused to be the only one with a hickey, though she was sure she probably had more than him anyway, what with Harry’s penchant for using his mouth on every part of her body, so she gave him one under his ear, biting the sensitive skin before sweeping her tongue over the spot. Harry came a few thrusts later, his breath hot against her neck. He rolled off her afterwards, pushing the hair out of his face.

They lay in silence for a moment, but then Harry moved again to toss out the condom. Rather than return to his spot next to her, he gathered up one of the blankets and arranged it over them, then got comfortable against her side like he wasn’t half a foot taller with a ridiculously long torso and legs, his head on her shoulder and his hand curled around her waist.

“Shit,” Fiona exclaimed. Harry, almost asleep, looked up and blinked at her with concern in his gaze. “I’m late for work.”

“Are you gonna go?”

“No.”

Harry would usually have chided her for skipping work. But this time, he settled back down with his head tucked under her chin and hummed against her collarbone. “Good. I don’t want you to leave.”

Fiona found herself twisting one of Harry’s curls around her finger the way she had a habit of doing with her own hair. She could’ve slipped out after he fell asleep and only been an hour late for work (which was still bad, but not as bad as missing her shift entirely), but that option didn’t even fall into consideration.

“I won’t,” she murmured.