Niall: “I…. Y/N,… I… I’m stuck.” Niall’s muffled complaints roused you from your peaceful slumber and you frowned in frustration, turning your face into your pillow in an attempt to fall back asleep. “Y/N…” Niall’s voice, closer this time, sounded you once more and you sighed, opening your unwilling eyes. “Ni… what…. what the hell?” Blinking rapidly in the early morning light, you felt your lips curl into a smile, clasping your hands over your mouth in an attempt to maintain your slightly indignant expression, all the while failing miserably. Standing before you, his body a mess of tangled limbs and an even more contorted sweater, was your boyfriend, his face and hair hidden by what you assumed used to be a tailored, fitting sweater. Sighing quietly, you noted how, in his confusion, your boyfriend had managed to stretch the knitted cream into something that resembled a fallen sheep in battle more than anything, and suppressing another giggle, you hopped off the bed to help. “How did you even manage this, Ni? It’s too early for this, even for you.” Tugging at the sleeves of the sweater, you finally managed to get Niall situated, rolling your eyes as his laughing blue eyes emerged from the mess of soft cashmere. “Morning, darling,” he grinned, pressing a light peck to your forehead, “Sorry about that.” Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Niall smiled guiltily, rubbing his face with the amorphous sleeve of his sweater. You crossed your arms, attempting to look every bit the resentful, sleepless girlfriend about to question her boyfriend. “Niall…” gesturing to your still beaming, but noticeably more guilty boyfriend, you released a breath of air, “Just… how?” Shrugging like an innocent five year old, Niall mumbled something along the lines of, “‘S difficult to put on a sweater…,” while turning his face towards yours once more, his smile hopeful. Before you could catch yourself, you felt yourself drawing Niall into your arms, fits of laughter escaping your lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you whispered, face tucked into Niall’s chest, “Otherwise I’d be so mad at you waking me up. Especially for this.” With a small chuckle, Niall tilted your chin up, brushing your lips with his, “Sorry, love. I’ll try to get stuck in my sweaters around noon next time.” With another eye roll, you pressed a kiss to Niall’s cheek, “That sounds better.”
Harry: “Babe, I’m home!” Shutting the door behind you, you stepped into the foyer, hanging your keys upon the key-holder as you listened for Harry’s response. Hearing nothing, you felt your brow furrow in confusion, calling out once more for your boyfriend, “Harry?” A distant, “‘M here,” sounded from your bedroom, and apprehension washed over you at the guilty note to your boyfriend’s reply. Climbing the stairs, you hesitated at the firmly shut door to your bedroom, fingers gliding over the burnished wood, “Is everything alright in there?” All noise from within your bedroom ceased for a moment before Harry’s pleading, “I think so?” reached your ears, a sure sign that you would walk into a disaster zone. Bracing yourself for the inevitable dragon or whatever mythical creature that Harry was surely trying to tame within the confines of your room, you opened the door, squeezing your eyes shut and praying that you wouldn’t be roasted or turned into stone. “Har-what? What’s this?” Yarn littered your room, draped across every possible surface, somehow even making its appearance on your ceiling, swaying gently from the defeated-looking fan. “I… it’s not as bad as it looks.” Harry peered at you apologetically from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, “See… I was watching this video online on how to knit a sweater and it suddenly occurred to me that I’d never tried before, y’know?” Gesturing about him as if his explanation rectified the catastrophe that was your room, Harry shrugged sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to make a mess, Y/N, honest, it’s just… the yarn has a life of its own! I didn’t think it looked as hard as it was, but it’s hard.” Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat and you bit back a smile at the dejected boy sitting before you, “Okay…” motioning above you, you felt your brow furrow in confusion once more, “but how did you end up with yarn on the ceiling?” Harry glanced up, a surprised “O” decorating his face, “I… I don’t know. I didn’t even see that.” Extending his arms hopefully, the green-eyed boy offered you a nervous smile, “Forgive me?” As if drawn to him, (because, really, you were; who could resist that smile?) you felt yourself folding into his embrace, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “You’re so silly. You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you.” His voice muffled in your hair, Harry kissed you once before replying, “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.” Giggling, you leaned back, brushing a curl away from Harry’s smooth forehead, “You act as if you have a choice.” Before Harry could respond, you pressed a kiss to his lips, effectively shutting him up. “Sorry, love,” he breathed, leaning into the kiss.
