Awkward Beat [H.S]

Chapter 2

In which Fitz fails to get up quietly and Harry finds a most convincing piece of evidence.

Chapter 2

Puke.

That was my only concern when I woke up in the morning: I was going to puke.

At least, it was my only concern... until I rolled over in bed and smacked heads with someone else.

Just as twin beds are not conducive to couples, seeing Harry's face directly next to mine on the pillow was not conducive to me remaining calm. I gasped, jolting the bed on its wheels.

Harry's lashes fluttered. He brought a hand to his face, rubbed the spot where we had bumped noses, sighed, and went on sleeping.

I'd like to say that realizing I was naked was the worst shock yet, but my head was spinning madly and I could feel the bile on an alarmingly speedy path up my digestive system. I had to get out.

As the single bed was pushed against the wall to allow for more space in the center of the room, my only way out was to climb over my sleeping flatmate – how awkward. I toiled over how best to approach this for all of three seconds before shimmying out of the blankets as quickly and quietly as possible.

With a quick glance to my right, I confirmed that Harry slept on.

How to climb over him with absolutely no physical contact and very little movement of the bed... that was the real question. This certainly wasn't a line we'd crossed or even remotely approached before, but we also weren't close enough that I could wake him and demand that he bury his head in the pillow until I was out of bed and decent. It all had to be very sneaky. In fact, the best case scenario would be Harry waking up and taking himself and his discarded clothing to his bedroom while I was in the bathroom throwing up tequila. We could pretend what had happened was inevitable and natural, or we could pretend it hadn't happened at all.

So, throwing caution to the wind, I placed my palm flat on the bed beside Harry and placed one arm and leg over his body, careful not to make contact. Not exactly the most graceful position, especially when bare naked, but there was no one to see me.

"Morning delight," mumbled a voice from underneath me. Before I could react, there was a hand on my breast.

I yelped, losing my balance in my plank position and collapsing on top of the lump on the bed. Harry grunted in surprise and I, flustered and red, flew to the wall and scrambled for bed sheets, which were surprisingly difficult to gather in crisis mode.

"Shit!" Harry cried, sitting up and instinctively flying in the opposite direction. He had to stop himself with the headboard before he tumbled off the bed. "I forgot it was you!"

"How could you forget?" I demanded, offended despite the fact that until I'd rolled over just minutes ago, I'd forgotten, too.

Harry gripped his hair as if about to yank it off his head and blinked to wake himself. "I woke up to tits shoved in my face, what was I supposed to think?!"

"Oh my God." I glared at him in disgust as I pulled the sheets higher on my chest.

He rolled his eyes. "Why were your tits in my face?"

"They weren't!" I protested. He wasn't buying it, so I added, "I was trying to get out of bed because somebody blocked me in!"

"You couldn't have just woken me up?"

"No!" I spluttered, as if the idea was preposterous. "That would have been awkward."

Eyes widening, Harry nodded, sarcasm dripping from every pore of his body. "Because the other way – that was ideal."