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The Sleepover

Summary: Sometimes, good things do come to those who wait.

Pairing: Andrew Byrne-Hozier x reader

Warnings: fluff, friend-to-lovers, cursing, CONSENTING ADULTS DOING THE DEED - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 3266

Author’s Note: I've always felt a little weird writing/reading about a real person. However, I've been in a writing slump for literal years and Hozier's music has always been inspiring. So morals be damned, right?

Disclaimer: Ya'll, I don't know this man. This is just the musings of a perpetually single lady and this should not be taken seriously whatsoever. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone (#noproofreading), and to be totally honest I just found this gif on the internet.

(Also, Mr. Hozier, I do apologize if you somehow find this on some dark corner of the internet. Please keep on scrolling.)

You hadn’t meant to stay the night— no really, you hadn’t. But there you were, tucked underneath a blanket as the day’s morning sun rays streaked across the hardwood floors. You could hear Andrew still snoring just behind you, he was probably asleep in the reclining chair you teased him senselessly about (“What are you, a seventy year old man?” / “Hey, once you fall asleep in one of these you’ll never say a bad word about them again”).

And maybe he was on to something. An achiness had already begun to settle in your lower back, and your right arm seemed to have permanently lost feeling from where you’d slept on it apparently all night.

Blearily, you groped around with your left (and thankfully still operational) hand for a phone. Nearly jumping out of your skin when you saw the time.

“Andy. Andy!” You hissed, (regrettably) throwing the warm quilt off your body as you scrambled to an upright position. “Andrew, wake up! We overslept!”

The plan had been for a casual movie night. You showed up at a respectable six o’clock with both your favorite candies, and he’d prepared the popcorn and drinks. There wasn’t much of a chance to do this sort of thing anymore— you had your boring 9-5 big girl job, and Andrew was more often out of the city than in it. However, whenever your paths crossed you both made the effort to spend at least a little time together.

But when Andrew had texted you last week, revealing he had an actual free Saturday night, you’d practically burst from excitement. Andrew Byrne-Hozier was your favorite person in the world— he was funny, and kind, and considerate. And while, sure, you were a little in love with him and every moment in his present made your heart feel more like molten honey than an actual organ, his friendship was too important to risk.

So, for the last four years, you’d watched as he shuffled through a couple of relationships (it was worse when you actually liked his partner) and went on tour and recorded songs. You were always there with a funny meme or thoughtful advice or listening ear, and sometimes you were just there for him when it became a little too much.

And sure, you’d also dated a few people (nothing ever serious) and you’d adopted a cat (whom Andy had nicknamed ‘Jammy’ because one time he got his head stuck in a jam jar) and you’d switched jobs and moved into a new flat— so you wouldn’t say you were pining for your best friend. It was just a crush. (A crush that made your head spin and your heart stop but who cared?)

But back to last night. You were supposed to leave right after the movie ended because Andrew had some important interview via Zoom in the morning— and while you had been in the background of plenty of interviews, you’d both decided the risk of you being spotted or heard was too high with all the relationship rumors swirling. Andy had wanted the focus to be on his music and the charity a portion of the proceeds of his latest single went to— not add fodder to the fire of him dating someone (and that someone was, well, you. You get caught one time by the paparazzi leaving his house and all of a sudden the internet was desperate to know who you were).

But that interview was scheduled for fifteen minutes from now, and the man of the hour was still sleeping off the sugar crash you’d both apparently succumbed to last night.

Pulling on your socks that you’d somehow kicked off during the night, you spared a moment to throw one of the decorative pillows littering the floor at Andrew. “Andy, wake up!”

He just groaned and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. “Leave me alone, it’s too early for that.”

“No it’s not! You whisper-yelled, finally launching yourself up to properly shake him awake. “It’s 8:45 in the morning, you’ve got that meeting in fifteen!”

At that, his eyes shot open, and he looked at the leather watch he’d left on overnight. “Shit.”

You nodded, giving his pant leg another tug. “Shit is right. What do you need?”

“I need to brush my teeth and get dressed.” He started, taking your hands as you helped him up. “I need a glass of water and my notes.”

You nodded, already mentally searching his apartment for the things you could gather for him. “I’ve got the water and notes, you get dressed. Whoever’s finished first can set up your laptop.”

So quickly you barely felt it, your best friend kissed you in the corner of your mouth (definitely by accident, he’d obviously missed your cheek). “Thanks babe— thank god you ended up staying the night. I’d’ve slept right through till the afternoon.”

Ignoring the butterflies that suddenly erupted in your stomach (he’d called you babe a few other times and it always got the chrysalis’ hatching), you nodded and gave him a little shove towards his bedroom. “Of course, now get going!”

You remembered seeing his interview notebook on the kitchen table, probably from where Andrew had been working on it the afternoon before. Moving with efficiency, you gathered it up, tucking in any loose papers into the pages tightly as you could, before flipping to the last page so it would be open for him.

But there, in the corner, he’d written your name. Not super unusual, he’d probably been thinking about your plans for the evening as he wrote down any points he wanted to discuss, but right next to it was a tiny heart.

And sure, Andy doodled all the time— on napkins and music sheets and even sometimes your hand, but nonetheless the sight of that little heart warmed your own.

Shaking your head, you picked up an empty glass from the table and filled it from the tap. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and Andrew was lucky he was getting anything hydrating right now. You glanced at the oven clock.

“Seven minutes!” You yelled, rushing into the living room and setting down the notebook and water glass. Without overthinking it, you grabbed as much as you could off his de facto interview table (usually it served as his entryway table, but it was in front of the only blank wall in his home and was the best backdrop for any business conducted over his computer).

You dumped the junk that had been littering the surface onto the couch you’d just been sleeping on (giving the quilt you’d just been shrouded in a few minutes ago a longing glance), before scooting out the table just enough to fit a chair behind it. Andrew, finally exiting his bedroom and only looking a modicum more put together than when he entered it, snagged one of his kitchen table chairs before beelining for you.

“Andrew, your hair looks awful.” You stated as you looked for a pen in the pile on the couch. You tossed it to him, and he caught it with a well practiced ease.

He laughed, plugging in his laptop before scooching into the chair he’d just placed and powering on the computer. “There’s not much I can do about it now, but you always know just what to say to make me feel good about myself.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your own hair tie and motioned for him to scoot. “I’ll braid it while you pull up the link.”

Andy complied, turning himself sideways in the chair and starting to log in. As gently as you could, you brushed your fingers through the wild curls to get out any major knots— then deftly sectioned it off into three parts and started braiding.

You would never admit this, but you loved braiding Andrew’s hair. Men always had the best hair (you were pretty sure it was scientifically proven) and he was certainly no exception. His hair was thick with so much body to it— some of your favorite pictures of him on tour were the ones where his hair grew wild from humidity. It never got quite so unruly in your hometown, but there was still something untamed about his hair you couldn’t get over.

But it was over before you knew it. Deftly tying off the end, you pulled the braid a little looser— picking out a few strands to artfully fall in Andrew’s face. You tugged the finished hairstyle before glancing at the clock. Finished with two minutes to spare.

Andrew adjusted himself in the chair, pulling up the Zoom chatroom and taking a sip of the lukewarm water you’d set out.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, before turning his attention to the screen.

As quietly as you could, you backed into his bedroom and closed the door behind you. Unsure of what to do with yourself or how long you’d be trapped, you crawled into Andrew’s bed and snuggled down into the sheets (surely it wasn’t crossing a line to take a deep sniff of his pillow, right?) Pulling out your phone, you plugged it into his charger and started scrolling on social media to pass the time…

… “Hey, wake up sleepy head.” A voice softly whispered, a warm hand brushing some hair out of your face. “My interview’s over and I got us some breakfast.”

You blinked your eyes open, struggling to focus on Andrew’s face in the dim lighting of his well-darkened bedroom. Your phone, which you must’ve fallen asleep on, was lost in the abyss of the crack between bed and nightstand so you had no way of knowing what time it was.

“How’d it go?” You slurred, burrowing a little deeper into the warm bed.

He smiled, “The interview went well thanks to you and your internal alarm clock.”

“Can I have just a little bit longer in bed?”

Andy sighed dramatically, “Only if I can join. I’m still half asleep.”

You laughed, but raised the sheets as he crossed over to the other side and got in. You two had shared a bed before, you reasoned as you turned to face him, once, a couple of years ago when he’d gotten too drunk for you to leave alone after a night out. And while intoxication was markedly missing in the scenario, you and Andrew were adults and could nap together.

“Thanks again for waking me up,” He whispered into the darked, turning to face you. “My agent would have been really pissed if I’d missed that. And I would have felt awful for wasting everyone’s time, of course.”

Gently, you pressed a finger to his mouth, “Shhhh, I’m sleeping.”

Andrew chuckled, but then took your hand in his and kissed your finger across his lips gently. Surprised by the tenderness, you opened your eyes to look at your best friend.

“I’m serious, thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you most days.” Andy said, his voice, while still quiet, had a gruffness to it you didn’t quite recognize.

“Well, good thing you’ll never have to find out what life is like without me,” you whispered back, softly smiling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I think, sometimes, the thing I’m scared of most is losing you.”

The confession took your breath away for a moment. Of course, Andy was the most important person in your life, but neither of you had ever said anything so… vulnerable to the other before. It had always struck you as funny— while it was no secret Hozier regularly barred his soul in his songs, the Andy you knew was fairly reserved and quiet. You knew where he stood not by his words, but by his actions.

You bit your lip, wanting to word your response carefully. Slowly, you moved your hand to his cheek, cupping his face. “I’m not sure there’s anything you could do to lose me.”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you could tell he was looking for something in your face. You stayed still, like he was a deer you were scared of frightening away, and then the smallest smile on his face broke the trance.

“What about this?” He breathed, turning his face so he could kiss the inside of your wrist. Your face broke out in a hot flush, the feel of his lips against your skin causing the butterflies you’d been fighting with to begin anew.

You shook your head the tiniest bit, “We’re still friends.”

He leaned forward, and it was only then you realized how close the two of you were in this bed. The warmth of his body and the feel of his hand moving to rest on your hip nearly sent you overboard. Slowly, as if he was now the one afraid of frightening you, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss right on the crook of your neck. “And this?”

Your toes curled and you almost gasped involuntarily, but you just managed to catch yourself. “We’re— we’re still okay.”

Andrew moved again, this time pulling you towards him so suddenly, his body was all you could feel. You looked up, his warm eyes searching your face again before gently, oh so gently, he brushed his lips against yours. “What about this? Are you okay with that?”

Words were lost to you as your eyes fluttered closed. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing yourself against him and somehow, even closer.

When your lips met again, there was no longer a question between the two of you. Suddenly, you were nothing more than the feeling of his fingers digging into your soft flesh, the scratch of your nails against his back, the heat that seemed to blossom in the space between your bodies. He groaned as your hips (involuntarily, of course) rocked into his, and you moaned at the feeling of his hard member against you.

“Andy,” You gasped, breathing hard but unable to even open your eyes— lost in the feeling of his lips trailing down your neck. “Andy please.”

Finally, you were able to crack your eyes just the tiniest bit, and almost gasped again at the sight of your best friend. He looked up at you, his beautiful hair already escaping your neat braid and his pupils blown wide as he seemed to drink you in. “Please what, darling?”

“Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Gentle fingers eased your shirt over your head, and you didn’t even have time to feel an iota of self-consciousness before your sports bra gave way next. Bare to him, Andrew gently turned you on to your back so he hovered over you, one of his legs cutting between your own.

Slowly, almost tortuously slow, he lowered himself and placed his mouth over one of your nipples— teasing the sensitive skin before moving onto the other side. Your hands, desperate to do something, wove into his hair as you held him against your body.

His hand skated across your stomach, moving lower and lower until it slipped past the loose elastic of your sweats and underwear— those long fingers you loved watching play music parting you and dipping inside for a brief moment.

You arched against him, gasping at the sudden feeling of him. Part of you still didn’t believe this was real, that surely you still had to be sleeping, even as he deftly pulled your remaining clothes down your legs.

Kicking them off and into the room, your own hands pulled at his shirt while raking your fingernails across the pale skin of his back. Now chest to chest, you couldn’t help but grind down onto the sweatpant clad thigh between your legs, desperate for any friction to try and relieve the growing pressure.

Hot kisses trailed down the side of your neck as you felt him laugh against your skin, “Someone’s a little impatient.”

You groaned again, your chest heaving against his as a hand reached to slowly knead a breast. “You have no idea how long I’ve been patient for,” your voice was breathier than you’d ever heard it. “How much I’ve been wanting you.”

A cry filled the dimly lit room as those long, tortuous fingers found you again— Andrew expertly rubbing your clit with a thumb as he shifted his weight to start taking off his remaining clothes. Your hands reached behind you, searching for something (anything) to steady yourself against as the sweet, familiar pressure started to grow.

He bent your right knee down with his free hand and spread you even wider. “Say that again,” he whispered as he laid down at your side, his voice barely audible over the rushing in your ears.

You gasped as the crescendo started, two fingers now inside you— their movements exquisite and maddening. “I want you—” you paused for a moment, your eyes squeezing closed against the incoming tide. “Only you.”

Shuddering, you barely had a moment to catch your breath in the seconds after your first orgasm before Andrew was reaching around you, fumbling for a moment before finding a familiar foil and ripping it open. Planting a kiss on your temple, the two of you locked eyes for a moment. You smiled, tenderly stroking a finger down the side of his face.

Andy shifted his weight so he was hovering over you again, his eyes searching your face with a question. Barely coherent (and dazed from how quickly you’d just orgasmed), you leaned over to answer with a lingering kiss— resting your forehead against his to pause for a moment.

“Please, Andy.”

In response, those tortuous fingers curled around your hips, your best friend kissing your neck as he positioned himself right at your entrance. “Tell me,” he whispered against your sweaty skin. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Your hips jutted upwards, and you groaned at the feeling of him brushing against you for just the briefest of moments. “I’ll never want you to stop,” You breathed, reaching up to stroke his face with your thumb. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

The feeling of him, all of him, was more than you had ever created in your daydreams; you couldn’t have imagined how his hair would tickle your face as he leaned down to kiss you, you didn’t take into account the visual of his long, lean body as he thrust into you again and again and again, and never in a million years could you have conceived how beautiful of a sound he would make as he climaxed inside you.

Afterwards, glowing in the aftermath of your orgasm and the feeling of Andrew lingering on your skin, you turned over to face him. His hair, now completely fallen out of the braid you’d hastily pulled in it, spread out over the pillow like a halo. His cheeks were flushed (as were yours, you felt sure), the high spots a delicate pink as he breathed heavily and stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, almost afraid to break the spell of the moment.

He turned to you, and his liquid brown eyes caught yours as a huge smile spread across his beautiful face. “Hey yourself.”

“You still have me, you know. If you want, I mean. I’m still not going anywhere.”

Andrew reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. The actions, so sweet and tender, made your heart squeeze with affection and hope. “Good, because I still don’t know what I would do without you.”

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #thebabewrites

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