Harry woke before her. The sun light was streaming in, pulling him from sleep. For a second, he couldn't remember where he was. What had happened. But then he heard her soft sleepy breathes and his heart skipped a beat. It all flooded back to him like a movie replaying in his head. The kissing, the touching. Her under him, on top of him. It was enough to make him feel powerless to her all over again.

He didn't make a move, scared to wake her. Instead, he just watched her. Studied every part of her face like he wanted it burnt into his memory. He knew she'd hate this if she was awake—she wasn't a fan of people staring at her, always turning her face away. She'd probably say something defensively, call him a weirdo, but he knew it was out of something deeper. An insecurity he would never understand.

Because to him, she was the closest thing there was to perfection.

He'd known that for a long time now, but had chosen to push it down, ignore it. After all, before everything else, she was his closest friend. And her friendship was something he wasn't prepared to lose.

It wasn't like he hadn't guessed there were deeper feelings. The signs were there, clear as day. It was in the way his jaw clenched whenever he saw her and Patrick kissing. It was in the way her perfume made his heart beat that bit quicker. It was in the way speaking to her had always been the best part of his day.

But he always found excuses for those feelings, passing them off as nothing more than friendship. It was because he was a caring friend, wanted the best for her, nothing more. For the longest time, he'd walked the fine line between ignorance and awareness, teetering on the edge of both. Blissfully ignorant, if it meant his heart didn't get hurt.

The ignorance had worked for a while in the form of dating others. Each time, he convinced himself it was love, that he'd finally found the one. But it didn't take long for cracks to appear in those relationships, Harry always finding reasons for it to not work. They were too clingy, their personalities too different. There was always a reason. His last relationship had been the closest he'd come to it, but even that had a natural expiry date.

And Wednesday was always the one he came back to. The one he would wish the others were a bit more like. She was like an itch he couldn't get rid of. To him, she was the level of perfection he was constantly trying to recreate in others. It should have been obvious to him through the years why he always chose the tall girls who were funny and independent. Looking back now, it was almost sickeningly clear.

He was trying to date the closest version of her that he could.

But the carefully buried feelings were dragged to the surface by one Mitch Rowland at Christmas. After their chat at the pub, in which his questioning had forced him to, literally, take a long and hard look in the mirror, he'd realised. Realised that his feelings for her had always been something other than friendship.

What's worse was that he couldn't even pinpoint where they began—where he'd changed from seeing her as his friend to something more. Even in their first meeting at school, where he'd talked to that scary brunette girl, he'd felt something like butterflies in his stomach. Or when he'd go over to hers after school and watch her play the drums in awe, like she was some kind of goddess.

There was no denying he'd always found her attractive, always enjoyed flirting with her in a harmless way. He'd sneak glances at her sometimes, when she wasn't looking. Watch as she moved her hair over her shoulder, ignoring the goosebumps that erupted. She'd always created a fire in his stomach, which he'd passed off as a natural human response.

Maybe it was because he'd always thought she saw him as a friend only that the notion of anything happening between them was quickly pushed from his mind every time. Even when he'd realised his feelings, he'd assumed they were unrequited.

But something had changed between them since Christmas. Some type of shift in their relationship. She'd begun to be more open with him, telling him things she rarely told anyone else and in return, all the feelings he'd kept hidden had found ways to surface, peeking through every now and then.

It felt like something had been growing, stirring between them at every opportunity. And then it had started to become too hard to hold back. Too hard to hide how really felt. The day of the football game was an example of it—she'd grabbed his hand absent-mindedly and it had felt like a zap of electricity. And when she'd closed her eyes and sang along gently to the song, he'd wanted to wrap her up in his arms so tightly that she couldn't feel any pain or sadness anymore.

Later, when they were sat in the car, there was something about the view of her in his beanie, smiling shyly that made him want to risk it all. And he nearly had. He'd been so ready to kiss her, to give into his heart.

He'd have done it too, if that fucking car behind hadn't killed the moment.

But it didn't matter now. Because he was here, in bed with her, their bodies twisted together under the sheets. And he'd never felt anything like it.

He'd had sex. Plenty of it. All types, too. Casual, rough, loving, drunk, sober. It had all been enjoyable, don't get him wrong. Sometimes, it had even felt like making love, despite the fact that phrase made him physically cringe.

But last night had been the first time he'd ever experienced sex like that. Sex that felt like more than sex. Like their souls had connected and become one. Watching her face, getting to see her most vulnerable moment made his heart do flips in a way no other person had.

It was like his life was now split into two categories. Before and after her.

And he had no interest in going back to anything before her.

She began to stir a while after, gently and slowly, her nose wiggling and her eyes furrowing. He smiled, her face reminding her of that expression babies make when they're woken up, sort of annoyed and sort of squished.

Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth. At his touch, her eyes opened blearily. It took her a second to see him, before a sleepy smile crept up onto her lips as she stretched her legs.

"Morning, birthday girl," he said quietly.

"Morning," she grinned, her eyes crinkling.

But then her eyes widened, and she brought her hand over her mouth, like she'd realised something.

Harry looked at her confusedly, a grin forming on his lips.

"What's wrong?"

She kept her hand in front of her mouth as she replied croakily. "I'm scared I have morning breath."

He laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed her hand and pulled it from her mouth, despite her protests.

"I promise, you don't have morning breath."

Narrowing her eyes, she tried hard not to smile. "I don't trust you, you're too nice. You'll say I don't to make me feel better. I know you."

Harry rolled his eyes, reaching under the cover for her waist, pulling her closer to him so that their faces were inches apart. And then, he placed a lingering peck on her lips.

"I promise I'll always let you know when you have gross morning breath."

She kept her eyes narrowed, until she nodded. "Fine. But just know that you only have yourself to blame if it actually does smell bad."

"Wednesday?" he asked, leaning up slightly.

"What?"

"Shut up," he replied, bringing his free hand around her back and pressing a kiss to her lips.

She didn't argue against him, melting into it instantly. The way her fingers always found their way to his hair made him go crazy. It still felt surreal, to be laid in bed with her, naked and kissing like they'd been doing it for years.

Just the sight of her gave him butterflies that he didn't quite know how deal with.

"So, how's your 26th year of life so far?" he asked minutes later when she'd woken up some more, party thanks to his lips. Leaning up to look down at her, he draped his other arm across her stomach.

She grinned up at him, so deeply he never wanted to look away. "It's been pretty good, I won't lie."

"Oh yeah?" he said, pressing a kiss to her jaw. "What about it has been good?"

He felt her back instantly arch as he kissed her again, on her neck. And again, just below it.

"Well, it's sunny outside. And I had a really good night's sleep."

She was being stubborn, like he knew she would. Constantly making everything a competition. It drove him wild, in the best way possible. He smirked into her skin, leaving wet kisses along her collarbone.

A contented sigh left her at his actions. With every moment, he was learning all the ways she liked to be touched. All the things that worked for her. And it was the ammunition he was sure to use to make her back down.

"Anything else happen?" he asked against her skin.

He didn't need to be looking at her to know she was holding back a smile. "Not really. I think I might have had a really nice dream, maybe?" she said.

He trailed his hand from around her chest, dragging it over her stomach teasingly, cupping her breast and rubbing his thumb over the most sensitive part. He smiled when he felt her hips lift in response, moving back up to the crook of her neck and kissing.

"Is that all?"

A soft moan left her lips as he brushed his thigh against her, knowing that he was getting the exact reaction he'd wanted. He kept the attention on the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder, the spot that made her lips part in pleasure.

When he hadn't received a response, he teasingly dragged his fingers from her chest down her torso, feeling her muscles contract under it. But as he reached an inch above the spot where he knew she was desperate for him to touch, he paused his hand and lifted his head from her skin. She blinked her eyes open at him, wondering why he'd stopped.

With a smirk, he repeated. "I asked if that was all?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and for a second, he felt victorious, certain she would cave. But then she replaced her annoyed expression for one of nonchalance, shrugging.

"Oh, are you talking about the sex? Yeah, it was alright I guess."

Her face now had all of the smugness of someone who believed they had the upper hand. He'd never known anyone to quite match his stubborn energy like Wednesday and he knew she was doing it so he could prove her wrong, give her exactly what she wanted.

Little did she know that two could play at that game.

Bringing his hand out of the duvet, he placed his middle and ring finger into his mouth, wetting them, before moving them back under. His fingers moved downwards, connecting with her and instantly rubbing circles. He watched as she leant back with a smug smile on her face, biting her lip to suppress a moan.

"Just alright, yeah?"

He didn't ease into it or start off slow. Instead, he circled as quickly as his fingers could, eliciting sounds from her that were more heavenly to him than anything else. Watching her face contort in selfish awe for every reaction of what she liked best, he continued. And then he stopped, moving lower and inserting one finger. And then two.

She gasped, surprised at the suddenness of it. He began to move his wrist, curling into the right spot. Moans spilled from her parted lips as she began to get louder, redder in the cheeks.

And then when she said the words he wanted to hear, dripping from her tongue like honey, and he saw how close she was getting, he stopped and pulled his hand away.

Wednesday opened her eyes, in a state of utter confusion. Harry shrugged this time, smirking.

"I probably shouldn't bother anymore if I'm only alright."

For a second, he was scared by the look of pure annoyance on her face. But it was too amusing to not smirk at. For once, he truly had the upper hand and it felt delightful.

"You're a dickhead," she said, a clear tone of annoyance lacing her words. "You can't give me blue balls on my birthday!"

"Well, I might be inclined to finish if you're extra nice to me," he grinned down at her.

Somehow, he had a feeling this was eventually going to come back and bite him. But that was future Harry's problem.

Wednesday breathed out frustratedly, staring him down. And when she realised that he was being serious, she rolled her eyes.

"Fine! The sex was good."

"Good?" Harry said, enjoying stretching this out for as long as it took.

He let his fingers drop down and stroke gently once, coaxing her into more. She looked ready to kick him in the head, a possibility he was ready to risk in making her admit it.

She bit her lip at the slight contact, arching backwards and looking at the ceiling. And then, the words he wanted to hear tumbled out.

"It was very fucking good, okay?! You're better than everyone else I've ever been with combined. Now, can you please stop being a dickhead?" she said frustratedly, nostrils flaring.

It was all he needed to get straight back to work.

After less than a minute of wrist action, Wednesday's body had arched in ecstasy and an endless stream of animalistic moans had left her mouth, all whilst Harry looked on with a smirk.

"Wipe that look off of your face," Wednesday said a minute later when her breathing had returned to normal, narrowing her eyes at him, her cheeks still tinged pink.

Harry suppressed a laugh, instead leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"Happy birthday baby."

A small smile grew on her lips as she sat back, looking up to the ceiling and having a moment to process it.

"Can't believe I'm actually 26. My early twenties are officially over."

"I know. You're an old-timer like me now," Harry said, grinning. "Anyway, since it is your birthday, for one day only I'm at your personal disposal. So, what would you like for breakfast m'lady?"

"Well first, don't call me m'lady ever again," she said, screwing her face up in slight disgust. "But, if you don't mind, I'd like waffles with Nutella and bananas. Please."

Harry's eyes widened at her request, nodding appreciatively.

"That's a good choice. Right, you go shower and I'll get your order served up."

He pulled her in for one last kiss, still getting used to how new it felt to kiss her. The girl he'd known for over half of his life.

He knew they were both thinking the same thing; of where this left them. What it meant for their friendship now that they'd broken the barrier to something physical. It was silently hanging in the air between them and neither of them wanted to be the first to acknowledge it. At least, not today.

For now, it was just the two of them, in their own bubble.

As Wednesday got showered, he quickly opened up his food app, not trusting himself to not completely burn the condo down attempting to make waffles. Once he'd ordered, he jumped into the shower himself for a minute and then brushed his teeth before quickly dressing.

From there, he opened up the case that was ladened with presents for Wednesday. As quickly as he could manage, he moved the presents into the living space, making a small pile on the coffee table and mumbling something under his breath about why everyone had chosen this year to buy the heaviest presents they could. When he heard the water turn off, he quickly pinned up the streamer Wednesday had used for his birthday that said 'Happy Birthday Dickhead' in bold lettering.

Five minutes later when he heard her footsteps on the hardwood floor, he hit play on Spotify. And as she appeared around the corner, the sound of 'Happy Birthday' by Stevie Wonder played out. She was bare-faced, damp long hair hanging behind her back. Even in a baggy tee and leggings, she gave him butterflies.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the presents, grinning in amusement when she recognised the banner.

"Nice touch," she said, smiling over at him.

"Thanks. I'm all about that sustainable life," he replied. "By the way, your food will be ready in..." he checked his phone to see the delivery time before adding "11 minutes."

Her eyebrows raised, looking over to the way to the kitchen. "Oddly specific timing that."

"What can I say," he shrugged, hiding a smile. "I'm a perfectionist."

"Oh, I'm aware," she replied with a grin, before walking over to the sofa and sitting cross legged in front of all the presents.

Harry sat down next to her, biting his lip as he watched her looking at them all.

"I'm not actually sure which presents are from who anymore, everyone just delivered them to mine to bring here," he explained, looking down at the mixture of wrapping paper. "Mine are the ones with the white bows."

She nodded, reaching forward and getting the first box from the pile. Looking at the tag, a small smile grew on her face.

"It's from Zara," she said, beginning to undo the bow.

As she lifted the top of the box and pulled back the tissue paper, her eyes widened. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of cherry red as she supressed a smile, reading the message on the card inside that Harry failed to see from where he was sitting.

"What is it?" he asked.

From her response and the fact that it was from Zara, he was sure it was something inappropriate. And sure enough, his theory was proved correct when she lifted out a set of black, lacy lingerie, complete with suspenders. Wednesday eyed the panties, stifling a laugh.

"They're crotchless too," she said, looking up to him with an amused smile.

"Oh wow," he said, trying not to let the image of her wearing them corrupt his mind any further. "What did she put on the card?"

"Oh," Wednesday said, re-reading it with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, trying hard not to smile. "Just that she hoped I'd get some on my birthday."

Before he could question her smile, his phone pinged, signalling that the food had arrived. He went out and grabbed the bags from the delivery driver, thanking him before bringing it into the kitchen and plating everything up. He'd gone for waffles too; after all, it was a special occasion.

He brought the plate of food and iced coffee to her, smiling as her eyes lit up. It didn't take long for her to dig in, closing her eyes like it was singlehandedly the best thing she'd ever tasted in her life.

It was funny to Harry, all the ways the woman before him had changed over the years and yet her complete love affair with food had remained the same. He wasn't sure he'd ever reach the same level of affection she had for it in her heart.

As she made her way through the presents, smiling and gratefully opening each one, she finally made her way to his, purposely saving them till last.

Pushing aside the now empty plate, she bit her inner cheek, looking over to him.

"Which one should I open first?"

Harry looked down at the options, pointing to the mid-sized box. "That one."

Wednesday nodded, picking it up and carefully pulling the lid off. Her mouth parted as she pulled back the paper inside, looking over at Harry with a shocked expression. A second later, she carefully pulled the black leather Prada bag from the box, holding it up with an awe-struck gaze.

"Harry, you shouldn't have!" she protested, twirling it around and staring like it was a rare artefact in a museum.

"Do you like it?" he asked, drinking his own coffee with a raised eyebrow.