stubborn love [h.s.]

"missionary so we can continue our argument from before"

If there was one thing about you that Harry hated, it was how stubborn you were. And if there was one thing about Harry that drove you absolutely mad, it was when he left arguments incomplete—choosing the easy way out instead of finishing the conversation you ultimately started.

It was with good cause, though. After being together for three years, the little things started to surface every now and then. And with the aid of liquor coursing through both of your veins, it was only a matter of time until a fight started.

They never lasted long. And it was usually cured by sex, but sometimes, Harry did things that drove you absolutely bonkers, leaving you wanting to punish him a bit. Like tonight, for example, when you had to remind him three times that he had to be ready by eight o'clock in order to make it to your best friend's birthday dinner on the other side of town. You watch by the vanity as you finish applying your nude lipstick, observing how he scrolled through his phone aimlessly on the bed with just a towel wrapped around his waist. His outfit was laid out beside him, his hair still wet from the shower he had recently gotten out of, and the time on the clock read 7:42.

"Harry, please get dressed. We're supposed to be out the door in five minutes," you remind him, sitting on the bed beside him while you buckle the strap of your heel around your exposed ankle. He nods absentmindedly while texting Jeff about scheduling radio interviews for the upcoming album, seemingly ignoring what you were telling him.

"Harry." Your tone is laced with annoyance now, and immediately his eyes snap over towards yours, taking in your completed look for the first time since slipping on the black dress you decided to wear this evening. His eyes rake your body instantly, and because of the years you've been with him, you know exactly what he's thinking already. But you don't have time for this, and when you stand up abruptly and saunter towards the door, you try to ignore the pout he shoots in your direction.

"Don't be like that, baby," he says slowly, sitting up straight and facing the door you were currently standing in.

"Harry, please just get dressed! I promised Catherine we'd be there early," you say tightly, giving him a pointed look until he surrenders and gets off the bed, reaching for his briefs in the dresser on the other side of the bedroom.

"Jesus, what is with you always needing to be early? You know Catherine's always late, anyways," Harry says in a clipped tone, shoving his long legs through the navy trousers laid out on the bed.

"Don't start. This is important to me, and I don't need your lack of time management ruining Catherine's birthday dinner that I've been planning for weeks." You knew that you were being a bit over dramatic, but the stress of making your high-maintenance best friend happy was weighing down on you. Coupled with the fact that Harry was leaving again for a few months, you were under a lot of stress to make everybody happy.

"What do you mean 'lack of time management?!' We're talking about Catherine for Christ's sakes! The girl who showed up late to almost every event you've hosted in the past two years! I think she'll manage us being a couple of minutes late." Harry speaks while finishing putting on his outfit, and for once, you really don't have it in you to argue. Because arguing costs time. And time is something you are lacking at the current moment.