Dawn FM • h.s.

• thirty-eight •

a/n: there is a definitely a reference to Harry at coachella in here somewhere. something about how he does certain things fast.... btw my policeman trailer today wtf????

I had woken up in a panic, my breathing heavy as I looked around the room.  There was a fear of some sort instilled in me, a fear that I felt like I had never felt and I didn't know why I was feeling the way that I was.  Harry wasn't in the bed beside me, and while I wasn't scared without him in the room, I just felt like I needed to find him to feel better.  I couldn't get the overwhelming sense of dread out of my being, so I made sure to get up, walking into the bathroom first.  He wasn't there, and even the extra space where the toilet was had been opened so I knew that wasn't where he was either.  I quickly made my way through the house, finally managing to spot him in the kitchen. 

"Harry."

He was cooking at the stove, glancing over his shoulder briefly but then did a double take.  I had never seen anyone stop what they were doing so quickly, Harry shutting the stove off and moving the pan away from the heat.  He set it on a different burner before he walked over to me, his arms wrapping around me almost immediately.  I didn't realize until now that I was this anxious, my body still shaking in his arms.  His injured hand shifted to the back of my head while he held me, his lips pressing to the top of my head.

"Hey, hey," he said quietly.  "What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know."

"I'm right here," he said quietly, holding me against him tightly as he hushed me.  "Did you have a bad dream?"

"I-I don't know.  I just woke up and was anxious."

He picked me up and set me on the counter, Harry cupping my cheeks and looking over me twice.  It never ceased to make me blush, and I had no idea why he was being so touchy with me, but I was incredibly thankful considering it was the only way I knew how to handle anything when I was freaking out.  But, in the time we had spent together I was sure he had picked up on it as well.  After all, for a man who hated touch he certainly had started to be overly touchy with me recently.  Harry brushed his thumbs under my eyes, shaking his head as he looked at me.

"I'm sorry you're so anxious.  You want some water or something? Maybe a shot?"

It made me laugh.  He quickly got me a glass of water, allowing me to drink most of it while he stood in between my legs.  I felt a little bit better, but I had no idea why I had woken up in such a panic.  He let me hold him for a while, his face snuggling into the crook of my neck as my head rested on his shoulder.  I smiled when he pulled me into him more, my arms wrapped around him easily.  It took a while for me to fully feel better, but even then he was attentive, going back to cooking breakfast in front of me and turning around to check on me every few minutes.

I liked watching him cook, and while he was shirtless, I could see his muscles moving in a way that I normally could not.  The way his shoulder blades shifted, muscles along his middle back tensing here and there as he continued to make breakfast.  Of course, I was pretty sure I had never really stared at anyone's back before, but his had quickly become my favorite in just under ten minutes, Harry grabbing a plate and dishing out an omelet.  I took the plate, Harry grabbing a fork for me.

"What's in it?" I asked.

"Sausage, cheese, tomato, and spinach."

"Oh, okay.  Thank you."

"Mhm."

He hummed while he made another, leaving me to eat the one he had made for me.  It was very tasty, and while I normally was not an egg person, this was probably one of the best things I had ever eaten.  He was always so good at anything he did, and I would have been jealous if he wasn't currently cooking for the two of us.  I was only about a fourth of the way through with my omelet when he finished with his, Harry shutting the stove off.  He plated his food, a small smile on my face when I looked at him.

"Do you want me to get up there next to you, or do you want to sit at the table?" he asked.

"I'll eat at the table with you."

He quickly set his food and mine at the table before getting me off of the counter.  I blushed when he pulled my chair closer to his, but it was also comforting.  After all, I knew he could tell I was still anxious, and he was doing everything he could to make it better.  His wounded hand sat on my thigh as we ate, and I told him how good the omelet was.

"Thanks.  I learned how to cook from my mum."

"That's good," I nodded.  "My mom taught me also.  I bet your mom would be so proud of you, Harry."

He nodded.

"Hey, I know I mentioned this like forever ago, but there's a farmer's market in Haines City next weekend.  It's like an early morning thing so if you don't want to go, I totally get it."

"I'd love to go," he told me.  "You did say you would take me sometime."

"I know.  And it just happens to work out that next Saturday is one of the days.  It's usually every other Saturday, so like yesterday there wasn't one, you know?"

He nodded, squeezing my thigh but then he hissed slightly.  I quickly grabbed his hand, pulling the bandage off to make sure that it was still okay.  And, actually, it looked much better.  It had been pretty much two days since he had gotten the stitches, Harry glancing down at his hand as well.  I pressed a kiss to his palm, Harry's face flushing but before I could even comment, Izabelle was jumping onto the table, meowing loudly at Harry.

"What? Can't you see I'm eating?" he said, to which she meowed loudly again.  "Fine, fine, fine.  Spoiled little princess."

He got up from the table, Izabelle walking over to me quickly and brushing up against me.  I giggled, shifting so that I could see if she would sit in my lap.  However, that did not happen.  Then again, I pinned it on her jumping off the table to go see Harry by the pantry where he had treats.  He crouched down, and I couldn't see him behind the island anymore, but I could hear him telling her that she was such a nice cat, and that he loved her very much.  It was cute, Harry standing back up with her in his arms.

"Are you going to let daddy finish breakfast? Hmm? Yes please."

He set her on the counter before walking back to the table to sit next to me.  It was cute seeing him with his cat, especially since I could tell that he actually really liked his cat.  There were some people I had met over the years who had a love hate relationship with their cats, but Harry seemed to strictly adore Izabelle the way that Izabelle seemed to adore Harry.  But, after watching her stare me down yesterday, I was sure she could get feisty at times as well.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"For what?"

"For her interrupting breakfast," he said to me.