Since returning from Malibu the week before, Harry and Wednesday had been having sex. A lot of sex.

It was like they were playing catch-up for all the years they'd wanted it to happen. In the morning, lunchtime, the evening. Sometimes, even in the middle of the night, half-asleep and dreary eyed. Wednesday had never had so much continuous sex and yet still craved more. His touch turned her insatiable, needing him at every available opportunity.

They'd quickly learnt what worked best, what move, or position drove the other wild. Sex education, but in the best and most rewarding way possible.

Not to mention the areas in their houses they'd ticked off the imaginary list, almost like sex bingo or something. On the kitchen counter, over the sink, on the stairs. Even in the hallway. No area was too off limits or unimaginative and Wednesday's knees had never had to endure quite so much carpet burn before. She didn't mind it though—the pleasure far outweighed the pain.

Harry had been balancing long rehearsals through the day and meeting her at night. They hadn't slept apart since returning, falling asleep tangled together each night. It was worrying how much she'd come to love the feeling, come to enjoy his face being the last thing she saw and the first thing she opened her eyes to.

It was odd, to not go along with him to the rehearsals, knowing how used to that life she'd been for almost a decade. She still didn't know when it would be, when she'd finally feel ready to perform again. It wasn't like Harry was pressuring her to come back—if anything it was her own mind making her feel weirdly guilty at not being there this time around.

But she knew it was still necessary; she needed to come back fully in it, completely ready to enter that life again. Until then, she'd continue working on herself.

As the clock ticked past 6 o'clock, she looked out of the window, watching the sun slowly lowering. It was April 1st and spring was well and truly here. The nights were getting lighter, the days less rainy and miserable. It was her favourite time of the year.

She looked down with furrowed brows to her phone, lip between her teeth as she reread the recipe she'd found on a website, some Jamie Oliver one for veggie burgers. Wednesday wasn't sure what had happened to her in the past week, but she'd inadvertently turned into a housewife. It was like the sex was so good, she wanted to thank him in her own way. And well, food was always the answer.

Plus, it made her happy to cook. Now that she had an abundance of free time, honing her culinary skills seemed like a fun activity to get involved in. She'd tried something new every night, something that catered to both of their diets. Vegetable curry, fish tacos, homemade pizza. It had all been a success, going down a treat.

Not the veggie burgers though. Quite frankly, the veggie burgers could fuck off forever.

First, she'd sliced her finger open chopping the onions. Then, she'd forgotten the top for the blender and screamed as chunks of mushroom and broccoli flew at her. And if that hadn't been bad enough, the burgers had broken apart in the frying pan, becoming some type of crumble.

Reading the recipe again, she tried to pinpoint where she'd gone wrong, figure out if she'd missed anything. But when she realised she'd followed the steps correctly, she'd found it was easier to just blame the recipe as she scraped the catastrophe into the bin.

Fuck the veggie burgers, and fuck Jamie Oliver.

Harry stepped through the front door ten minutes later as she was sat at the kitchen counter, scowling frustratedly whilst she looked through her food app.

"It smells nice in here, how's it—"

He stopped when he walked in and saw her defeated expression, noticing the mess on the counter tops.

A hesitant smile grew on his face as he looked back at her. "Am I assuming we're not having veggie burgers anymore then?"

She looked to him with an annoyed stare. "No, we're not. Blame Jamie Oliver."

"Ah," he said, trying to hold back his smile as he dropped his bag by the door, walking to where her stool was and leaning down to wrap his arms around her middle. "Always knew I didn't like him."

He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her neck, making some of the frustration melt from her body.

"How were rehearsals?" she asked, putting her phone down to clasp her hands over his.

She felt him shrug behind her as he released a yawn, burying his face into her shoulder.

"Long, as always."

"You won't have to endure them for much longer. Two weeks today until tour starts."

That was a topic they'd successfully continued avoiding. The fact that in two weeks, Harry would begin the European leg of the tour and start a long year on the road. She knew it was something they'd both avoided mentioning, not wanting to discuss the fine details of how they were going to continue this whilst he was away in a different country.

That was another conversation they'd not had yet. What exactly this was. What it meant. Wednesday was in no rush to label anything. It felt nice, to exist in this bubble of happiness and bliss, their own perfect little word. Both of them knew they felt something for the other, knew there were mutual feelings. But neither had said what they actually wanted from this yet—whether it was heading towards a relationship, or forever staying in the casual end of the spectrum.

Wednesday desperately hoped the latter wouldn't be the case for him. In her heart, she knew she only wanted him. Now that she'd had him fully, she didn't know how she could ever go back to someone different. Moreover, she didn't want to.

So, if avoiding that conversation meant she got him for a little longer, then she would stretch it out for as long as she could.

"I know. It's mad how fast it's come around," he sighed into her ear.

"Dunno what I'll do when you're not here every day anymore," she replied quietly, testing the waters of that conversation with a hesitant tone.

He encouraged her to turn on the stool so he could see her face. She saw his reassuring smile, the tiredness of the day in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it. We'll make it work one way or another," he said.

When he was like this, all tired and cute, she constantly felt a moment away from melting. She'd regressed back into a teenager; a smitten, lovesick teenager. It made her feel a bit sick.

"I know," she replied, ignoring the butterflies that erupted in her tummy at his words. "It's just, even before this happened—" she gestured between them, "I spent every day with you for like, 8 years. It'll be different, you not being here to annoy me every day."

He faked a hurt expression, pouting his lips. "That's rude. I never annoy you. I brighten up your days, so stop lying."

She rolled her eyes, not prepared to admit out loud that he was in fact correct.

"Whatever." Her smile faltered as the anxiety crept in once again. "I think it just—it feels like our worlds are separate for the first time in a while, if you get me? I know it doesn't make much sense—"

"I think it makes sense," he replied, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "This is the first tour you won't be starting with me in—well, ever. I don't blame you for feeling weird about it. I do too."

"You do?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

He let out a small laugh. "Of course I do. This is the first time I'm going to be on a stage in 8 years and not see your face behind me. You're always the one who can make me calm or excited during a set, always the person I look for. I'm nervous to be up there without you for once."

She loved when he talked lowly in her ear, raspy with lust and desire. But when he spoke to her like this, full of care and emotion, she didn't think anything else could ever compare. It made her heart swell up to the point she wasn't sure whether it could take any more.

Looking to his soft expression, she bit her inner cheek.

"Well, I'm sure for the majority of the shows, you can just look to the crowd to find me instead."

His lips curled up into a smile as he looked between her eyes. "Exactly. Don't be taking any dirty signs along with you though and taking all the attention away."

"Who, me? Never," she replied, laughing as he poked at her sides, tickling lightly.

Leaning into his arm as he stopped, she looked up at him, reaching up to tenderly brush away the eyelash that had fallen onto his cheek. Her hand rested on the skin, gently brushing. The action made him lean into her, closing his eyes.

She wished it could be like this forever. This period of stability and calm, where they were only a stone's throw away from each other. Having the ability to be relaxed and do absolutely nothing in the other's company and still be happy. She knew once tour started, that luxury would disappear. That would be when the real test would come, and she was nervous for it.

"Go on," she said softly. "You go relax in the living room. I'll order us some food and clean up this absolute mess."

Smiling gratefully down at her, he moved to walk away, picking up the bag by the doorway. But just as she stood up herself, ready to tackle the vegetable genocide that had occurred, he turned back towards her.

"Oh. Forgot this."

He placed his hand delicately on her waist and pulled her closer, closing the gap between them as he pressed a prolonged kiss to her lips. She smiled into it, feeling his stubble tickling her upper lip.

Harry pulled away, pecking her lips once more before smiling and walking off towards the living room.

Wednesday smiled to herself, wondering if she'd ever get used to the feeling.

She hoped not. Because each time he kissed her, it was like volts of electricity ran through her body and ignited every fibre of her being.

Later, after they'd eaten their bodyweight in Thai food and had sprawled across the sofa in a mess of limbs, they struggled to stay awake. Some crime documentary was on the TV, a random one she'd found on Netflix. Her head was on his lap, his fingers absentmindedly stroking through her hair.

The feeling was the closest thing she'd found to nirvana.

"I'm going to take you on a date," Harry suddenly said above her, soft but determined, breaking the silence.

She turned her head towards him, looking up with furrowed brows to make sure she'd heard him right.

"What?"

"I said, I'm going to take you on a date," he repeated, still stroking her hair back as he looked down to her.

A smile curled onto her lips at the unexpected comment, a warm feeling spreading throughout her.

"Where did that suddenly come from?"

He shrugged, smiling back down at her. "I was just thinking that you deserve to be taken on a proper date. And I...I want to do this right."

There were a thousand thoughts running through her mind, but none of them seemed to be able to materialise. He wanted to take her on a date. The two of them, on an official date. Something about that gave her butterflies in her stomach and she couldn't help but let her smile deepen.

"I'd like that a lot," she said, completely facing him now, the TV a distant noise. "What do you have in mind?"

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I can't tell you that. It'll ruin the surprise."

Wednesday groaned in disapproval, fake pouting in the hopes she would get her own way and he would reveal his plans.

"Don't bother putting on the fake sad face, because I'm not telling you," he laughed, eyebrows raised as he stared her down.

"Can't you just give me a hint?" she asked.

He leant back, his lips curling to one side as he thought about it.

"Fine. It'll be in London."

"That's not a hint," she protested. "That's just you stating the obvious!"

"You asked for a hint and I gave you one, so be grateful," he said, grinning down at her unamused expression.

"Well, when should I expect this date?"

Harry's face didn't give anything away, remaining composed and slightly amused her constant fishing for information.

"Soon."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Now you're just being harsh."

Harry grinned wickedly, moving his face closer to hers. "Don't act like you don't like it."

Biting her own lip to stop a smirk, she turned her head back towards the TV.

"Maybe I don't."

His fingers moved from her hair, trailing down her body slowly and earning a grin from her that he couldn't see.

"Funny. That's not what you were saying this morning. Or last night. Or every day for the past week," he said slowly, and she could hear the change in tone, his words slowed down.

"I changed my mind," she shrugged, trying to stay composed despite the fact his hands had now began to trail under her t-shirt, drawing shapes into the side of her stomach.

He knew it was the spot that sent shivers down her spine and instantly created a hunger deep within her. Low blow using it against her now.

"Hm," he said, continuing his actions. "I'll make sure to remember that the next time you're begging for me to be harsher then."

Her nostrils flared as he continued to stroke under her top, silence filling the air between them. She didn't need to be looking at him to know he was staring down at her with a shit-eating grin, feeling it burning into the back of her skull.

She tried to focus her eyes on the pictures moving on the TV, ignore the newly created ache between her legs. But he kept his actions continuous and slow, so slow she felt like time had stopped.

When she couldn't take it any longer, she breathed out frustratedly and turned over in his lap. His face was exactly how she knew it would be—smug and annoying.

"You're a dickhead," she said, fighting her own smile.

Harry's face remained the same as he began to lower his head towards her.

When he was an inch away from his lips, his eyes darting between hers, he spoke.

"And you love it."

His lips pressed to hers, making her take a deep inhale as he her hand lifted to his neck. His fingers were still trailing along the skin of her ribcage, leaving a flurry of goosebumps in their wake.

The positioning was slightly awkward as he tilted his head to meet her lips, so when they broke apart, Wednesday shifted her body. Turning and climbing up the sofa back towards him, she threw her leg over his, straddling his lap. She reconnected the kiss, feeling herself melt into it, his hands still under her t-shirt.

It was nice, to kiss for the sake of kissing. No other guy had ever just wanted to kiss her. Not even Patrick—occasionally, he'd quickly peck her lips or kiss her goodbye. But kissing him always meant he wanted it to lead to something further.

Don't get her wrong, she usually always wanted her kisses with Harry to lead onto the next natural step. The difference was, he didn't kiss her just for that. She was sure he'd have been perfectly happy to sit and kiss her lips all night until they were both light-headed and their tongues hurt, just because it was so nice.

She pulled back, letting her eyes stay closed as she rested her forehead against his. The heat of his body and the trail of his hands was all she needed to keep warm and for a second, she felt so secure and safe, she never wanted to let him go.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked gently, his thumbs comfortingly rubbing circles into either side of her hips.

She bit her lip, feeling it was slightly swollen from their kiss, and opened her eyes to see his. Staring with so much kindness that it coaxed the worries from her mind without any resistance from her.

"I'm just going to miss you when you're gone, that's all," she said, looking down to his sweater.

His finger moved from her hip to the bottom of her chin, tilting her head up to look back at him. Her eyes met his and she realised how vulnerable in this moment she was being.

Not closed off. Not pretending she was okay. Instead, she was being completely open and honest. And it felt good. Even if the conversation was uncomfortable and her mind was fighting a losing battle to keep everything inside. He'd broken down all of her walls so quickly, she'd not even realised.

"Even when I'm not here, you'll still have me," he replied.

He'd understood her fear immediately. Knew that it wasn't just the distance or the fact she wouldn't get to see him every day anymore. It was deeper than that. It was that belief at the centre of her mind, trying to convince her that distance would provide him was a sudden moment of clarity. That without her near, he'd realise she wasn't worth it.

She'd not told him about that part of herself yet. Hadn't completely revealed the part of her that felt so shameful to admit. But sometimes, it was like he was so well tuned in to her thoughts and fears, that she didn't need to. He could guess what she was thinking before she'd even realised it.

Looking up to him with her lip caught between her teeth, she searched his eyes for something like dishonesty. But she found none.

"Really?" she asked, hating how small she sounded.

Even though she was still unlearning that belief every day, it didn't mean it didn't rear its ugly head every now and then. And when those moments arose, she just needed an extra bit of affirmation.

He leant forward, keeping his finger under her chin as he grazed her lips, kissing so softly it felt like a dream.

"Really."

A small smile curled onto her lips as she nodded, swallowing back the anxiousness that had surfaced. Her eyes were heavy with tiredness—if she sat there for long enough, she was sure she'd fall asleep right there and then in his lap.

Letting his hands drop to the sides of her hips again, he smiled reassuringly and moved a piece of her hair behind her ear as he spoke gently.

"Come on. Let's go to bed."

/

I can't believe how close I've got to 100k reads on this story?! I remember how happy I was when I hit 1K so thank you to you all for reading! 😭💛