Harry Styles Imagines/Blurbs

Lazy Day on the Porch

You arrive at Harry's house, having received a call a little while earlier asking if you'd come over. Apparently Gemma and his mum had "deserted" him and he was "boreder than a penguin in an igloo." Even though you had laughed at him and told him that didn't make any sense, he still begged you to come. After a little coercing, you agreed and in the end were glad to have been able to leave the city on such a beautiful day.

You knock on the door and a few seconds later he opens it a wedge, peering out, and once he realizes it's you, swings it open all the way.

"Hello!" he chirps and backs up a bit for you to enter the house. "Come in." he greets, pulling you close with an arm, your arms wrapping briefly around the middle of the white t-shirt that's stretched over his broad shoulders, and he kisses your forehead.

"Your day been well?" he asks as he treads back towards the kitchen with you following behind.

"Yeah, yours?" you respond with a smile.

"Boring." He says flatly, making you giggle. He circles around the L-shape counter, returning to what he was doing before you entered. "Want one?" he asks, raising a bottle of beer.

"Sure." You smile and he grabs another out of the refrigerator, popping the tops off of both.

"Let's sit on the porch?" you ask as he cups his hand around the small of your back like it's the most natural thing.

"Suuure." He responds with a kiss to your temple.

You both plop down on the sofa, a silky breeze blowing into the screened walls of the porch, gently scooping up the ends of your hair and letting them fall again. Harry sinks down into the soft cushions, his chin resting on his chest and his bare feet propped up on the table in front. You chuckle at his appearance.

"Whaat?" he asks defensively.

"Nothing, you just make me laugh." You smile, wiggling your phone out of your pocket. He takes a sip of his drink while you begin to check your messages.

"Oh, I remember something I was going to tell you." Harry starts, and you glance up.

"Okay, what?" you respond and encourage him on. In his usual Harry fashion, he begins to drawl extensively and with great detail about a story that doesn't have much plot at all. You try really hard to listen and be interested, but after the third repetition of "And he was, like, seven feet tall.." you can't help but get a little distracted on your phone.

"Are you even listening?" Harry stops for a second, amusement in his voice more than anything else, and you look up again.

"Uh.. yeah.. seven feet tall.." you wing your answer and he sighs dramatically.

"You're just like the boys." He complains, and you can't help but laugh a little bit as you acknowledge your folly and toss your phone to the side, slipping down to lounge beside him. You slide your hand on top of his chest and peer up.

"But am I really?" you ask, a smirk on your face. His impish grin returns.

"Well, other than like.. the basic.. anatomy.. yes." He responds and you quickly sit up.

"Harry!" you half-way shout, indignant, and playfully slap his stomach. His mischievous laughter is interrupted by your attack and he curls his body up with an "oomph—" then rolls to his side. You cross your arms and sit up a little straighter.

"Well if they're just like me, why didn't you call them up to come over today?" You sarcastically reply, enjoying the chance to tease him. "And don't say because they don't have the right anatomy." You glare. He laughs again.

"No, of course not!" He attempts to recover, laughter in his voice and eyes twinkling. "You're like.. beautiful and wonderful and, like, amazing... and stuff." He tries, but it just makes you laugh.

"Ah, Harry, what am I going to do with you." You chuckle, casually taking the side of his face with your hand and kissing him just where his curls start to form before easing back down beside him again. He grins and one of his large, awkward hands finds its way to yours, fingers wiggling between. You sigh, enjoying the weather and the moment, and rest your head on his shoulder. He begins to try and put a hair tie you had left on the table around the neck of your beer bottle with his feet. After several failed attempts, you interrupt with your foot and try yourself, realizing it's harder than you originally thought. Once you finally achieve success, it quickly turns into a competitive game that he only manages to win by using less than standard techniques, such as tickling and poking and  tugging on your arm just when you're about to hook the tie to throw you off balance and make you accidentally kick over the bottle instead. He mischievously laughs the whole time and you giggle, shoving him off of you and trying to succeed anyway, to no avail.

"I win!" he pretends excitement, still lounged into the couch.

"You cheated." You correct and laugh.

"But—I still won." He grins and you shake your head, still chuckling at him. You sit back and he lazily slumps himself over, his head falling in your lap. You smile, fingering his curls, and he closes his eyes. You gently run your fingernails down his scalp, making his eyebrows furrow.

"That feels really good." His voice peaks.

"Good." You respond with a small smile and do it again. He eyes open and he glances up at you.

"I do think you're, you know.. amazing and all that." He gets serious for a moment, concern lining his eyes. You smile.

"I know, Harry." You respond, because you really do—even if he isn't very good at actually saying it sometimes. He brings his hand up to itch his eye, then uses it to gesture big motions as he talks, the way he usually does.

"Like.. you're better than.. better than, like.. all of the world's confectionaries combined." He grins playfully, and you giggle at his very Harry-esque choice of words.

You lean down and kiss just above his eyebrow. "Thanks, love." You smile close to his face before giving him a sweet, yet deep kiss. When you pull back, his eyes are a little darker than before, showing more than just amusement, but you respond by kissing his forehead one more time and continuing to play with his hair. He slowly sighs and closes his eyes again, clearly enjoying the moment, which causes you to smile. Only a few minutes pass before he nods off, but you continue to run your fingers through his thick curls.

The rest of the day you spend doing nothing in particular—enjoying the lovely weather, napping on each other, eating food, and talk only really coming when necessary.