harry styles imagines

auld lang syne (gold rush universe)

Then there was you, the only thing he could truly focus on for longer than a minute.

With your hair pinned back with silver snowflake clips, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. A halting feeling of falling in love all over again nestled into his heart, and you didn't even have to say a single word.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Harry almost laughed at your question. How could he not stare at you? You were made for him.

Smirking over the rim of his glass, he said, "I have a complaint," then took a quick sip and stood.

You turned back to the tree, pensively looking it up and down. "Do you not approve of my decorating?"

"You're doing a wonderful job, baby." He emptied his hand and beckoned you toward him. "Come here. Take a break for a little bit."

You shyly shrugged your shoulder up to your cheek, his favorite habit of yours, and then made your way to him. You wrapped both arms around his waist, then rested your chin on his chest with raised eyebrows in silent questioning.

"My complaint," he said lowly while smoothing his thumb over your temple that had somehow collected glitter, "is that I can't see the bump when you wear sweaters."

The tightening of your hold warmed him up, along with the knitted material loosely draped over your upper half. "It's too cold to wear anything else," you replied, smiling knowingly.

Reaching around your waist, Harry bunched the material of your sweater behind your back and tugged on it until it tightened around the small, growing curve of your stomach. "There," he whispered satisfactorily, grinning and glancing up at you with a boyish glint in his eyes.

You just scoffed amusedly and swatted his hands away before unraveling yourself from him to continue hanging the last of the ornaments. Two glass spheres dusted with lines of gold glitter were still waiting to be put on the tree with your strategic placement. Blue twinkling lights still needed to be strung and weaved around the protruding branches. The tinsel garland adorned with sparkling leaves and flowers still needed to be embellished on the staircase's banister. Harry, however, thought all those things could wait. He wanted his wife's undivided attention.

One of the cardboard boxes contained mistletoe, so he searched through them while he hummed along to Eartha Kitt's rich, sensual voice. After noisily sifting through miscellaneous Christmas items, he finally found the artificial red berry attached to an even more artificial plant. While your back was turned, he plucked it out and quietly walked toward you, turning up the volume of "Santa Baby" with the remote on his way over.

"Hey," he said, tickling the nape of your neck with the mistletoe.

You squealed and damn near elbowed him in the stomach. "Stop! You're supposed to be helping me."

"We have all night to do this."

"There's only a few more hours until Christmas. We should have done this weeks ago."

Harry's warm hands traveled under your sweater and splayed over your first-trimester bump. It wasn't fully rounded out, yet it was still a bump, and he loved it dearly, even if a baby hadn't meant to happen so soon. "We've been worried about other things, yeah?" he murmured secretively, even though no one was around to eavesdrop.

"Yeah," you replied.

"But just think... this time next year, we'll be spending Christmas together as a family of three."

"When are we going to tell people? I won't be able to hide it for much longer."

The anxiousness on your face worried him. He knew that sooner or later, the ravenous public would find out. It was only a matter of time before the vultures came circling, and his pledge of protection would again be at risk.