You Feel Like Home [h.s.]

In Which Harry Needs Help of the Nannying Kind

He's annoyed because he doesn't know what his next move should be, and she's really not making it any easier on him. Does he knock on her door now? Does he wait for another potential run-in in their shared hallway? Perhaps they both catch the lift together this time? Is he reading the signs wrong?

Harry's been out of the relationship game for too long, he thinks. Casual hook-ups on drunken nights out are easy, and seemingly require little to no energy on his part, considering whiskey to be the proverbial ice breaker in any social situation. But now, when he's actually feeling things that aren't fuelled by lust, he's struggling. And it's absolutely infuriating.

"Daddy?" Jackson's small voice breaks Harry out of his reverie, and as if the universe is telling him to pull his shit together and be in the present, the coffee maker starts to beep loudly in front of him, indicating his cup was officially filled. He stands up straight and grasps the hot mug in his hand, shifting his body so that his hip was resting on the countertop and he was facing his son from his spot perched in the breakfast nook with wide, inquiring eyes.

"Sorry, Bubs. We can ask Ryan later, yeah? Daddy's got work to do and you have a Zoom date with Auntie Gem in a little bit," Harry says softly, slipping into the seat across from Jackson, stealing the spoon that was resting on the edge of the bowl and taking a large mouthful. Jackson starts giggling loudly, reaching over the table to try and wrench the spoon from his father's grasp, causing Harry to laugh along with him, his mood lifting with each sound that falls from Jackson's mouth.

"Okay daddy," Jackson says, snatching the spoon successfully from Harry before dipping it back into his half-emptied bowl of muesli. He's compliant for the first time this entire morning, and as Harry sits there watching his son devour his breakfast, he's hoping that Jackson will continue to make his day easier.

But if there's one thing Harry has learned about parenting over the past five years, it's to never expect things to go his way. Especially with an antsy toddler who hasn't been able to leave the house due to the weather and the state of things in the country, a toddler who's been pleading to hang out with somebody other than his father and his aunt who he sees every few days through a grainy computer screen. A toddler, who for lack of a better word, is going absolutely fucking mad with each day that passes.

So when Harry is halfway through his workday, the song he was supposed to have finished barely even close to completion, he feels his last bits of patience diminishing with every comment about Ryan or Luna that falls from Jackson's lips. He could barely focus when he kept hearing their names during the Zoom call with Gemma from the other side of the living room, his sister keeping his son's infatuation brewing with each prodding question she asked. He could barely conceal the groan when Jackson told her that Ryan was going to be his new best friend, because every time his son mentioned her name, Harry's head was filled with all-consuming thoughts that made it feel heavier and heavier, until the muscles in his neck ached from holding it up.

He's almost certain that his management team was going to pop a blood vessel if he didn't get this song submitted by the end of the day, and suddenly, Harry finds himself needing help—something he tries his hardest not to ask for unless the situation is dire.

While Jackson was preoccupied with the telly, Harry scrolls through the contact list on his mobile, trying to think of anybody who could pop by and watch his son for a few hours. His mum is too far away, Gemma has her own kids to worry about on the other side of the city, and he didn't even want to consider his third option—his pride too important to ask her for anything.

Quarantine was really fucking up his plan of finding a sitter, and when Jackson suddenly mentions Ryan's name offhandedly for the umpteenth time that day, it's as if a light bulb bursts in Harry's brain, the light illuminating through his skull.