I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Twenty Five

Niall reaches over to grab his tank top off of the ground, slipping it on as the sheer cotton catches and sticks to his skin because it’s slick with sweat. Harry’s still sleeping as Niall looks down at him, noticing the way the brunet’s cheeks are still flushed with a rosy glow from their earlier escapade. His brown curls are loose but still hold a slight curve to them, fallen over in front of his closed eyes.

Niall’s gaze trails down further, watching as Harry’s back rises and falls with each breath he takes through his parted puffy lips. Before he reaches to the waistband of his boxers that stretch tightly over his bum, his phone starts vibrating against the dirt. He groans and so does Harry, large hands reaching out clumsily to grasp at Niall’s bicep, like he knows Niall will have to move as his fingers curl and lock the blond in place.

 

“Baby,” Niall breathes out lowly with a smile, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry leans into the touch, body going lax again as he drifts back into a deep slumber in Niall’s lap.

“Hello,” he mumbles once he manages to unlock his phone and answer the call, still in a haze as he squints to even be able to focus on one thing.

“Mate we’re about to go on stage, where are ya?” Ashton’s voice rings through the phone with laughter and cheers in the background – most likely from the small crowd gathered outside the stage setup.

“Was just a bit busy,” Niall replies with a smirk as he glances down at Harry, words somewhat slow and slurred.

“Quit fucking your boyfriend for two seconds and get your arses over here,” Ashton mutters before hanging up without a goodbye. And well, he isn’t wrong.

“Harry, babe, gotta get up. The lads are about ta perform,” Niall murmurs gently as he gives Harry’s shoulder a shake, feeling like a mother attempting to wake her son for school.  

“Noooo,” Harry groans, the garbled noise almost inaudible as he curls up against Niall. Niall’s tank top rucks up, the sparrow tattoo on his pale hip peeking out as Harry nuzzles his face against it.  

“Harry,” Niall snaps and that catches Harry’s attention, his head jerking up and glazed-over eyes as wide as they can be as he struggles to keep them open.

“Okay,” Harry says softly, the word thick and heavy on his tongue. He still has a small scowl as he complies, his intoxicated mind still not understanding why Niall wouldn’t just want to stay and cuddle with him 

He feels around for his jeans and tries to pull them on when he’s found them, long legs sprawled out and feet getting caught in the pant legs. He gets them over his thighs finally after minutes of struggle with Niall watching and giggling – yes giggling because apparently weed makes Niall the giggly type – and the waistband of Harry’s jeans settle low on his hips. Harry’s tongue pokes out between his plump lips as he tries to button them, eyebrows furrowed and the word ‘cute’ comes to mind when Niall sees Harry look up at him with a tiny pout.

“Can’t button ‘em,” Harry mumbles, more to himself than anything, and his face flushes at the loud chuckle he gets in response.

“Suppose it’s because you can’t see,” Niall hums, slipping a pair of glasses over Harry’s eyes. Harry laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners as he leans over and leaves a sloppy kiss on the blonde’s cheek before crawling out of the tent.

***

Life’s a tangled web

 
Of cell phone calls and hashtag I-don’t-knows