#but jesus fucking christ 13k- FOR A JACKET?

[itsnotgray]

[blood-mocha-latte]

ONE TOO MANY MORNINGS | 13K | RATED T

the last part of @dontirrigateme’s summer exchange gift! (part one and part two), i hope you enjoy <3. special thanks to @lamialamia for such a stellar beta, and thanks to absolutely everyone. wishing a lovely rest of summer to all ☀️

Web’s smile was warm, happy. He had a butterfly bandage at his temple, carefully placed, a cup of jello in one hand. He was, it seemed, fully intact. “Hey, Lieb.” He said as soon as he saw him, and didn’t even spare Joe the dignity of waving at him.

Joe leaned against the doorframe of the room, realized for the first time that he was wearing his left shoe on his right foot and vice versa. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” He said, heart still trying to beat through his chest.

(The fifth time they broke up, it was final. It was over, because Web put his foot down and Joe was half-convinced that their fate was to murder each other. They still didn’t change their emergency contact information.)

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FEBRUARY

He got the call on a Thursday.

“I just don’t get it.” Chuck told him, and sounded entirely too exasperated over the phone. “You two are, like—”

“Chuck, can you cover me or not?” Joe interrupted him, pausing his subsequent ripping apart of the couch to adjust his phone against his ear, shoving his feet into his shoes with a free hand.

Chuck’s sigh sounded long-suffering. “Yeah, yeah.” He muttered, the receiver muffled. “But only for the morning, and then you’re on your own.” Joe was barely listening to him, already in the hallway, grabbing his jacket.

“Thanks.” He said, and hung up before Chuck could continue to explain, at length, what a bad idea this was.

He ended up on the street in a record two and a half minutes, nearly running by the time his feet hit the pavement.

He’d never, and he knew it certainly, been so goddamn grateful to live so close to the hospital.

--

The closer he got, the quicker his breathing echoed in his chest. It seemed like a side effect of everything from Joe’s sudden onslaught of worry and the aftermath of the phone call beginning to catch up to him.

A car crash. Jesus Christ.

Joe dragged a hand down his face as he found the front desk of the hospital, located the nurse behind it and nodded at her. “Hi.” He said, rather hoarse. “I’m, uh. Emergency contact?”

The nurse blinked at him. Joe grimaced at her, which was as close to a smile as he could manage. “Do you have a name?” She asked.

“Web.” He said without thinking, then blinked. “Uh, Webster. David. He’s — Kenyon.” 

The nurse’s eyes found the screen in front of her, and Joe cleared his throat, pushing his hair away from his forehead and looking vaguely over his shoulder, catching his breath. He could feel his phone vibrating against his leg as someone (probably Chuck) kept texting him about something or the other. Joe didn’t necessarily care.

“Joe Liebgott?” Joe’s gaze snapped back to the woman behind the desk.

“Yeah.” He said absently and she nodded, pointing with her nose down the hall. 

“You’ll see him.” She said, which seemed rather vague. Joe wasn’t sure if that was par for the course or not. “He’s definitely noticeable.”

And out of everything that Joe could think about hearing in a hospital, he’d have to think that would be one of the worst.

“Thanks.” He said, dry, and his own voice seemed to echo through his ears like coming from the end of a tunnel. Everything seemed to echo; from his breathing to his footsteps against the linoleum. 

A car crash. 

A car crash.

For all that Joe thought it over, it barely made any sense at all. Ridiculously, the only thing he seemed able to focus on was how they ended it.

His footsteps still echoed.

--

Joe was going to kill him.

Joe was going to fucking kill him.

David’s smile was warm, happy. He had a butterfly bandage at his temple, carefully placed, a cup of green jello in one hand. He was, it seemed, fully intact. “Hey, Lieb.” He said as soon as he saw him, and didn’t even spare Joe the dignity of waving at him.

Joe leaned against the doorframe of the room, realized for the first time that he was wearing his left shoe on his right foot and vice versa. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” He said, heart still trying to beat through his chest.

Web made a face at him, dipped his spoon back into the jello. “Please.” He said, dismissive. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like I—”

“Dramatic?” Joe demanded over him, already beginning to see red again. “I get a fucking call at six in the goddamn morning saying that you’ve been in a crash and that you’ve been hospitalized—”

Web’s eyes flashed a brighter blue as he sat up slightly against the reclined hospital bed, brows furrowing. Upon a second glance, he didn’t seem as unharmed as previously thought, white gauze covering one of his collarbones and one of his fingers splinted. 

“I didn’t ask you to come!” He said, voice breaking around his own upset, and Joe can’t be bothered to care, spluttering and pointing at him in the bed, astutely not in the full body cast that he’d assumed he’d be in, with all limbs still attached. “They called you before I could say that I just haven’t changed my info—”

“It’s been a month!” Joe said, pointing vaguely at nothing over his shoulder. “How the hell haven’t you changed—”

“Have you?” Web demanded over him, cheeks a brighter red than before, flushed and neck turning a blotchy red. 

That gave Joe pause. “I…” He started, pressing his lips together, frustrated, and dropping his hand to point at Web, instead. “That’s besides the point.” Web’s eyes widened, and he pointed back at Joe, who was quick to drop his hand as soon as he realized how stupid they must look.

“You haven’t changed it either!” He said, sounding some strange mix of enraged and enthused. “So ha! How can you expect me to—”

“Don’t ha me.” Joe interrupted him, wrinkling his nose. “And I wasn’t in a fucking crash, so I think it’s slightly fucking different—”

“You could have been!” Web’s still red, fingertips tracing around the gauze at his collarbone as he watches Joe, eyes wide, crystal. “And then they would have called me, and it would be the same exact scenario.”

Joe leaned heavier against the doorway, pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Jesus Christ.” He told his hand, suddenly exhausted, and Web snorted, suddenly derivative. When Joe looked back up at him, he’d crossed his arms over his sternum, leaning back in the bed. 

“So there.” He said, entirely too smug. “You try to remember to change your emergency contact after six years.”

Joe stared at him. Web stared back for about fifteen seconds, and then grimaced, leaning further back to press his palm flat against his collarbone, breathing through his nose. “Fuck.” He muttered.

Joe sighed. As elaborately as he could, neatly enunciating, he said, “Are you okay?” 

Web frowned at him. “I mean.” He said. “Yeah. They’re just a couple of scratches.” Joe frowned back.

“Okay.” He said finally, pushing away from the doorway. “When are they releasing you?”

Though only fractionally, Web’s eyes widened as he shook his head, pointing at Joe again. “You are not taking me home.” He said, sounding entirely too contemptible. Joe just raised an eyebrow, held his arms out. 

“Is anyone else coming for you?” He asked, which may have hit the nail on the head, as Web just paused, mouth still open, and Joe nodded. “Yeah.” He muttered, hand coming up to rub across the nape of his neck. “I’ll talk to the desk. Get your shit together.”

“Joe.” Web said, suddenly more pitiful than before, some sort of game that he always took entirely too seriously. “Please don’t take me home.” 

Joe was already turning around in half of a circle, patting down his pockets as he tried to find the mental checklist for exactly what he needed to find. “Get your shit together, kid.” He said a second time, finding his phone in his back pocket.

Goddamn it. He walked here. They’d need to Uber back to Web’s place.

--

“One step at a time.”

“I’m not a fucking invalid.” 

“Okay, so get out on your own.”

Web shut his mouth real quick after that, and Joe went back to thinking absently about something else entirely. Like how he should have thought to make Web change his emergency contact information while they were still at the hospital.

The Uber driver was patient as Joe tugged Web out of the backseat of the car as gingerly as he could and the other elected to barely help at all. As soon as he was standing, Web groaned, one arm coming to wrap around his ribs, and Joe ignored him completely to tip the driver and thank him. 

When he turned around, Web was in the same place he deposited him, dip between his eyes heavy, breathing steady. “What’re you waiting for?” Joe asked him, moving forward enough to get to the apartment's fancy gate, gesturing at it impatiently. “Get your bitchass keycard and key us in.”

Web frowned at him. The corner of his mouth was slightly bloody, Joe was unsure if that was new or he just hadn’t noticed it before. “You’re so mean to me.” He said, voice taking on the same edge he’d use when they were together, when he was trying to make Joe feel like an asshole about something.

They weren’t together anymore, though. Joe just pointed at the gate again, raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have all day to baby you.” He said.

He didn’t have to feel like an asshole anymore; they weren’t together.

(He still kind of did. God fucking damn it.)

--

Web’s fancy apartment building had an elevator, and Joe ushered him into it before he himself stepped in, pushing for floor eight with his knuckle and leaning back against the wall.

Web leaned against the wall as well, still frowning at him. Joe ignored him.

“I still came and picked you up.” He said, after a moment. 

“Don’t try to score brownie points.” Web wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t want you to.”

Joe took a very deep, calming breath. “Who else would’ve come for you?” He asked again, hypothetical but also entirely not, as Hoobler was out of town and it was Monday morning.

Web looked away and pressed his lips together. “It’s embarrassing,” He said, overly articulate, “To have to have my ex come and pick me up.” 

Joe snorted. “How do you think I feel?” He asked, the elevator opening again with a ding. He pushed away from the wall to herd Web out of the elevator before he himself departed from it. 

Web just huffed. “My only solace is that I’m pretty sure everyone thought you were my dad.” Joe pushed at his back with two fingers, a careful prod to make him move quicker to his door. Web grumbled but complied, limping slightly.

“Hardy-har.” He said, dry, as Web fumbled with and subsequently jiggled open his apartment. “I should have told more nurses that we used to fuck.” 

Web’s cheeks were rosy, when he turned around. Probably a side effect of whatever painkillers they have him on. “That would simply be too humiliating for me.” He said. “I could hardly admit that I knew the arthritic that came over looking like he had just started smoking crack cocaine.”

Joe raised an eyebrow at him, but closed the apartment door behind him nonetheless. “Did you get meaner, since we broke up?”

Web frowned at him, eyes still bright, arm still wrapped around his ribs. “No,” He said, “I just got my brains back.”

Joe was already wandering towards Web’s kitchen as the other stayed standing, leaning against the wall, eyes half closed. “Stop repeating lines from shitty rom-coms.” He said, and Webster spluttered, already protesting.

If there was one thing he missed, Joe supposed, it was this sort of thing.

“Yeah, well, you’re old.” Web said, lackluster. Joe figured he couldn’t think of a better insult.

“That just makes me wise.” He said. When he looked over at Web, the other was glowering at something over his shoulder.

Joe was pretty sure that meant he won.

--

“You need to eat something.”

“Joe, you’re only old enough to be my dad. You’re not actually—” 

“Make that joke all you want, we’ll both be in our thirties in four years. You’re gettin’ on, too.”

“There’s a big difference between twenty-six and thirty-three—”

“Yeah, the thirty-three year old is used to driving, and therefore didn’t absolutely get his shit wrecked this morning—”

“Lieb.” Web said over him, voice taking on the same whining edge that he knew that Joe could hardly stand, and still did anyways. Like some sort of Pavlovian response, he shut up. It might have something to do with the fact that Web just looks so goddamn miserable, sitting at one of his stools at the kitchen counter, cheek resting on his arms and eyes a glassy, unfocused blue.

Instead of flipping him more shit, Joe turned around, opening the fridge. The avocado spread was in the same place it always was, always had been, and he pulled it out, setting it on the counter. The bread was kept in the cupboard under the counter – which Joe had always hated, and he pulled it out and tossed it down next to the avocado, raising an eyebrow at Web as he turned to the toaster.

“You’re a millennial, right?” He asked, and Web groaned, head still in his arms.

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.” He said, muffled. He was still in the same clothes that Joe had made him change into when they were at the hospital. “Change your emergency contact information.”

Joe dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster, turned the thing on, and turned back to Web, back to the counter as he crossed his arms over his sternum.

“You first.” He said, sort of a joke. Web just furrowed his eyebrows at him, still frowning.

“You.” He said.

“You.”

“You.”

The toaster dinged, already done. Joe turned back over to it and tossed the bread onto a plate, which he’d found easily enough in yet another cupboard.

“That’s another thing.” He said, absent. “You have terrible taste in toast. This isn’t even toast, it’s warm bread.”

Web scoffed, a little damp. “Well, I just don’t like eating hockey pucks, unlike you.”

He could feel Webster’s eyes on him as he knifed some avocado onto the bread and pushed it across the counter to him, dropping the spread back into the fridge and not bothering to tie back up the bread before putting it back on the cupboard.

“Eat your goddamn warm avocado bread, Webster.” He said absently, and Web snorted, picking up one of the pieces anyways.

“I’m not gonna change my contact until you do.” He said, overly childish for no absolute reason as he took a grudging bite out of the toast. Annoyance sparked easily in Joe’s chest the same way it always did. 

“Okay.” He said. “Well, I’m not, either. I’m the one who had to drag myself down to the hospital to get your melodramatic, miserable, shitty driving self, so the least you can do is change it first.”

“I did not ask you to take me home!” Web said over him, voice slightly higher. He had green on his cheek, and Joe had to stop to watch him for a moment, the corner of his mouth crooking up, amused. 

“You’ve got shit all over your face.” He said, and Web wrinkled his nose, scrubbing the back of his hand across his cheek. He somehow missed the avocado.

“I did not ask you to take me home.” He said again, slightly less enthused. “In fact, I think I did the opposite of that—”

“When are the painkillers gonna kick in?” Joe asked over him, half-ignoring him, and Web spluttered, unbelieving.

“Oh, yeah, slip the wounded ex a mickey—”

“Hey, I’m just saying, you’re getting very wound up and I think a little bit of valium would help—”

“Fuck you, Joe, that’s so fucked up.”

Web took another angry bite of warm bread. Joe still watched him, had to look away before he actually started smiling. 

“They give you vicodin?” He asked.

“You’re such an asshole. Change your emergency contact information.”

“Not until you do.”

--

The problem with even seeing Web was that they argued.

Joe didn’t know how he felt about the arguing. Never did. It wasn’t necessarily good, or bad, or anything in between. It was just entirely who they were, and who they were was two assholes that couldn’t stay together because they were both entirely too reactive.

“Just—” Joe started and cut himself off with a snort, slightly derivative. “One foot at a time. There you go.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Web grumbled into his shoulder, steadfastly not helping Joe remove his jeans. “We’re not even going to fuck after this.” 

Joe managed to get Web’s waistband over his hips and dragged them off of him, tossing them into the corner of the room as Web leaned further back into his mattress, groaning.

“Nope.” Joe told him, searching around for nothing in particular. “That is what broken up means.”

Web wrinkled his nose, staring at the ceiling. Joe found a dusty afghan in the corner of his room and tossed it over him absently. Web pretended not to notice.

“For our collective mental health.” He said, maybe a mimicry of themselves a month ago. Then, in a thoughtful addition, “And those of our friends.”

“Bless their souls.” Joe said absently, and smacked Web’s thigh — who groaned — as he passed him. “Okay, your drugs are in the kitchen. Go to sleep. I gotta get the fuck to work.”

He flicked off the lights in Web’s room as he passed the switch. “Joe.” Web said, when he was outside of the doorframe. 

Joe only turned around halfway, raising an eyebrow. Web’s eyes were dark, tired. 

“I’m going to change my emergency contact info.” He said, and Joe watched him for half of a second before knocking his knuckles against Web’s door frame, stepping further away from the bedroom.

“You do that.” He said, and Webster nodded, like it was final.

He could hear Web snoring before he was even fully out of the apartment.

--

MARCH

“It’s fine.” Joe said. “Shit from the shoulders up always bleed a lot.” Chuck looked over at him nervously, fingertips tapping against the steering wheel.

“Uh-huh.” He said, and didn’t sound convinced. “Please don’t get blood all over my seats.”

Joe grimaced, adjusting the bundled up wife beater at his neck. It caused blood to squelch between his fingers and he winced at the feel. “This is your fault.”

Chuck kept his eyes on the road. “Well.” He said. “If anything, I think it’s your own fault.”

Joe closed his eyes, letting his head thunk back against the headrest. “You’re hurrying, right?” He was starting to feel his heartbeat in his eyes, which probably wasn’t good. He closed them, and everything behind his lids were a fuzzy white. 

“Yeah.” Chuck said, but sounded slightly warped, strained. “Jesus Christ. Stay awake, Joe.”

“I’m awake, fuck you.” Joe said, and kept his eyes closed. Everything was still a fuzzy white. 

“Oh.” He said, and sounded like he was coming through a tunnel. “Web will probably show up, by the way. We’re playing gay chicken with our emergency contact information.” 

The last thing he heard before everything cut out altogether – like a lost radio signal – was Chuck swearing.

--

Joe hated IV’s. They were itchy. 

So was the bandage, but that was less so. “So help me god,” He said, slowly, elaborately. “I am fine. Someone just get me the fuck—”

He started reaching for the IV again and had his hand promptly smacked away from it again by David, who smoothly crossed his arms over his sternum again, stubborn face set.

“You’re staying here.” He said, smacked Joe away from the IV for the fifteenth time. “You lost a lot of blood, you’re going nowhere because if you do, you’ll die. Stop it with the IV, Joe, it’s not that bad.”

Chuck had to leave, and now Joe was stuck with Webster, who’d promptly filled out whatever paperwork that Chuck hadn’t had the knowledge to complete and then gone to immediately bothering Joe.

“I’m not gonna die if I leave the hospital.” Joe said, but didn’t reach for the IV again. “You just like me being miserable.”

Web was watching him, eyes bright and pale under the LED lights of the headache of a room they’d stuck him in. “Does it hurt?” He asked, voice rather tenuous. Joe rolled his eyes at him.

“No, David, I got stabbed in the neck and am ready to go run a marathon.” He said. “Be fucking serious. And get me out of here.”

Web dropped into the chair beside the bed with a sigh, which wasn’t exactly promising of a jailbreak. “You’re so mean.” He said. “Everytime I see you in person again I remember why we broke up.”

Joe turned to look at him, raised an eyebrow. “I almost died an hour and a half ago and this is how you choose to comfort me?”

Web frowned. “I’m seeing my therapist again.” He said, pointed. “She said it could help to tell you what I’m thinking of as closure.”

Joe frowned, eyes cloudy, and squinted up at the ceiling. “Is this the one with the nose ring or the one with the bad haircut?”

“Nose ring.”

“Huh. Well tell her that your unsocial dumbfuck ass decided that this was the perfect time to tell me that.” Web huffed, gentle and slightly quiet. 

“No.” He said. “She’d probably take your side.” 

“That’s because it’s a stupid thing to say. What’re you gonna tell me next? You went out on a date?”

Web hummed, thoughtful. “No.” He said. “Though I did get asked out, the other day.”

“You can do better.” Joe said, immediately. Web’s laugh seemed slightly lighter, than before. When Joe managed to turn to look at him, slightly gingerly, he was watching Joe with sparkling eyes, feet tucked up under him.

“You don’t even know who it is.” He said, smile a gentle curve. “But I said no, anyways. It doesn’t matter.”

Joe turned back to stare blearily at the ceiling again. He was thinking that the button by his bed actually worked, as his eyes were starting to get fuzzy again. 

“Shoulda said yes.” He said, and at Web’s soft snort, rather derivative, and he blinked, protesting. “Did nose ring want you to say yes?” Web hesitated, before answering.

“Yeah.” He said, slightly quiet. Joe yawned. It probably should have hurt his neck, but he was pleasantly numb, and everything just felt slightly strange. 

“Why didn’t you?”

His hand was laying, palm up, against the scratchy sheets of the bed, and Web’s fingertips were gentle against the inside of his wrist, trailing over Joe’s fingers before settling there lightly.

“Why do you think?” He asked, quiet and slightly hoarse.

Joe didn’t respond, kept his eyes on the ceiling. He was going to fall asleep, he thought absently, strangely, like he was taking note of it. The pads of Web’s fingers were still tracing along his own. 

“Change your emergency contact information.” He said, dizzy. Web laughed, it sounded from a tunnel.

“You first.” He said, like a dare.

--

He could actually leave a day later, and Web came back to the hospital, because of course he did.

“I hate your hair like that.” Joe told him, wincing as he pulled his fingers away from his neck, from where he’d been testing the gauze pressed there. “You look like fuckin’... John Travolta from Grease.”

David sighed. “God forbid someone try a new thing.” He said, hair slicked carefully away from his face. He was lingering near Joe gingerly, like someone would suddenly expect him to play goalie for a soccer game of life or death, and Joe didn’t look at him.

“Yeah, he’d better.” Joe retorted. 

Chuck had to go back to work, and had only texted him twice since what Webster was already referencing as The Incident.

Web hesitated, at the hospital exit, looking back at Joe. He had his phone out, probably to find an Uber, since he didn’t have a car anymore.

Joe raised an eyebrow at him. “What.” He said, ignoring the pain in his neck to focus on his distaste of Web’s hair.

“Do you…” Web started, and hesitated. “Want to go back to my place? Just so I can—”

“Exes, Web.” Joe said over him. “I’m not going back to your place, don’t be fucking crazy.”

Web sighed, but followed him outside. “Last time we broke up we still went over to each other's places.” He said, edged with protest.

“Yeah.” Joe said. “Last time we broke up. Not this time, last time. Which means that we needed to break up again, after that. Because going to each other's places did not work.”

Web sighed. “Yeah.” He said, rather dejectedly. “It was fun, though.”

“It was fun.” Joe confirmed, felt his mouth twitch up at the thought. “For the first, second, and third break-ups, too.”

Web huffed a laugh. “Maybe fifth is the charm.” He said lightly, and Joe had to look away from him before he did something stupid.

Neither of them mentioned the contact info. Joe didn’t really want to bring it up. His neck hurt.

--

APRIL

Joe was still sore most days, but his neck was starting to messily scar over in a mess of uneven skin and red staining, so he left it alone and ignored it to the best of his ability. 

He’d have to assume, as it had been two months, that Web’s subsequent injuries from the crash (he still didn’t have a new car, Joe was certain, and he was curious about the fallout of the accident. He hadn’t heard a goddamn thing about it.) had healed completely when Joe had gotten the call.

The call, in question, being from the hospital. Again.

“Jesus Christ, go fucking slow—” He said, holding up more of Web’s weight when the other leaned into him with a groan, edged with some semblance of complaint. 

“I’m okay.” Web said, and made to touch the side of his face — mottled all colors of green and purple and black — before Joe smacked his hand away. “My face hurts.”

From what Joe had gathered in the scant few hours he’d learned of Web’s slight misfortune — which had been lucky enough to happen on a Saturday, so he didn’t have to worry about work, thank god — was that Hoobler had hit him in the face with a skateboard in what was probably an accident (somehow) and then skipped out on him to study for some class final.

“People in college are fucking insane.” Joe muttered, in reference to that. Web just made a soft sound, protesting, still prodding gingerly at the side of his face.

“At least I didn’t lose any teeth.” He said, wincing when the pads of his fingers grazed his cheekbone, already pooling in such a dark purple that it looked almost black.

“Yeah, then you wouldn’t be pretty anymore.” Joe agreed, then batted his hand away again as he slung the other's bag over his shoulder. “Stop touching it, Jesus Christ. You’re lucky you didn’t break your fucking face.”

Web swayed slightly where he stood. Joe ignored him in order to turn around once, trying to find anything Web would have forgotten. “The doctor says I have contusions.” Web told him.

“The doctor said you have a concussion.” Joe returned. Web hummed, swaying slightly again. Before he could fall, Joe hooked a hand around his elbow as he moved forward. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

“Ready to change your emergency contact yet?” Web asked him, going with him easily, and Joe hummed, looking back at him enough to raise his eyebrow.

“Are you?” He asked, wincing slightly at the way that Web tilted his head, as if to ponder the question. It turned his face towards the garish overhead LED lighting of the hospital, making the bruising look even worse, darker tones of putrid green and purples. “Jesus Christ, kid.”

Aware of Joe’s eyes on his face, Webster’s fingertips came up to poke at his cheekbone again. “My face hurts.” He told Joe a second time. “What drugs did they give me, again?”

He’d turned his hand over at some point, fingers shifting to hold onto Joe’s. Joe gripped him back absently, easily, and they hit the sidewalk outside of the hospital in the next heartbeat. 

“I called an Uber.” Joe told him. “It’ll be here in a minute. And all of them, apparently.”

Web huffed a laugh, coming to a stop next to Joe, fingers shifting slightly in his grip. “Okay.” He said, his same, ever-crooked, ever-ridiculous smile slightly lopsided as his hand came up to his face again, and Joe smacked it away for the thousandth time, gripping the fingers of that hand as well.

“Stop touching it.” He said again, and Web made a soft noise but just shifted enough to hold onto Joe’s hand with both of his own. 

“My face hurts.” He said. Again.

“I know.” Joe told him. “Your roommate hit you in the face with a fucking skateboard.”

Web looked at him, solemn. “It wasn’t on purpose.” He said, and Joe raised an eyebrow at him.

“I figured it wasn’t.” He said. “Care to tell me what it was, exactly?”

Web wrinkled his nose, winced when it moved the bruised side of his face. “He was late, and the skateboard was in his bag.” He said, like it made all the sense in the world. “And he turned around too fast. I was eating breakfast, so I wasn’t quick enough on my feet.”

Joe hummed. “Warm avocado bread, hm?” He asked, and Web rolled his eyes, brilliant and blue and reflecting off of the sky.

“Alright, alright.” He murmured, swaying again. Joe moved closer to him, Web held onto him slightly tighter. “You have me pegged, smartass.”

Joe looked back towards the street. Hoped the Uber would come soon. “I would hope so.” He said dryly. “We’ve known each other for six years.”

Web was quiet. When Joe looked over at him, the corner of his mouth was quirked upwards, all dopey and warm. “Did you have raisin bran this morning?” He asked, then flushed, proud, when Joe remained quiet. “Ha!”

Joe sighed. “I hate the ha, you know that.” He muttered, and Web just made a face. “And it’s not that impressive, wiseass.”

“Yeah.” Web agreed. “We’ve known each other for six years, after all.” Joe turned to see him again, watch his profile. He felt a sudden rush of relief, that Web hadn’t broken anything, and told him so.

“I’m glad Hoobler didn’t fuck up your face too bad.” He said, as an Uber pulled over at the curb and he pushed Web towards the car. “I’m less eager to help ugly people.”

Web spluttered, undignified and protesting, as he dropped down into the car. Joe shut his door and walked around to the other side of the car absently, exchanging a few absent words with the driver before getting into the back himself. 

“You’re a horrible person.” Web told him, and reached for his hand again. Joe snorted, closed the car door with his free hand.

“Only for you.” He said dryly, and wound their fingers back together.

--

Web sat on the couch with an ice pack over his face, feet tucked up under him, and he watched Joe move around in the kitchen unhelpfully. “I had dinner with my parents scheduled for next week.” He said, sounding utterly miserable.

Joe turned to look over his shoulder at Web, turning off the tap and turning around with a glass of water. “You can still go.” He said. Web made a face.

“No.” He said, shifting the ice pack over his cheek as Joe moved around the counter bar that separated the kitchen and living room, handing him the glass of water absently. “I don’t want to see my father when I look like this.”

Joe looked at him, unimpressed. “It’s not that bad.” He said, which was just an outright lie. Web sighed.

“Don’t bruises get the worst about a week in?” He asked, glass of water still in hand, and Joe pointed at it. 

“Drink that.” He said. “And yeah. But I’ve met your dad. He’ll probably just respect you for getting the shit beaten out of you.”

Web groaned, slouching further into the couch. He brought the glass to his lips absently, sipping at it clumsily. “It’s embarrassing.” He said. Joe dropped onto the couch on the opposite side of him, pulling out his phone absentmindedly.

“You say that everything is embarrassing.” He said dismissively. “And I don’t think you’ve ever been embarrassed in your life.”

Web’s eyes bore holes into the side of his face, though Joe wasn’t even looking at him. “When are you going away?” He asked, sounding irritable. Joe turned to look at him, unimpressed.

“You have a concussion.” He said. “I gotta stay here. I’m your emergency contact, dumbass.”

Web frowned at him, and looked so wholly miserable, face a hot mess, feet tucked up under him, slouched into the couch, icepack in one hand and water in the other, that Joe almost laughed out loud.

“Go away.” He said, and Joe went back to his phone. He had texted Chuck about Web being in the hospital, and was left on read. 

“Once Hoobler gets back.” He said, and Web groaned.

“Change your emergency contact.”

“Not until you do.”

--

When Hoobler finally got home, Web was out cold, breathing soft but steady against Joe’s shoulder as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone and did next to nothing.

The door creaked open, Hoobler’s bag over his shoulder, and when he saw them on the couch, he didn’t seem necessarily surprised.

“Oh.” He said. “Hi. How’s…” 

Web had fallen asleep on his shoulder, hand hooked under Joe’s arm, leaving the bad side of his face on full display. Hoobler winced when he got closer, dropping his bag on the floor.

“Eugh.” He said. Joe raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah.” He said. “Concussion, contusions, nothing broken.”

“Gross.” Hoobler offered, but dropped down into the sofa chair that sat next to the couch anyways. “Thanks for staying here. Are you two. Uh—”

“Still broken up.” Joe confirmed, not really in the mood for the conversation on why he was here. He shifted against the couch, pushing up onto his feet. 

Web went with him with a groan, other hand joining his first at Joe’s arm. Joe shook him off easily. 

“You’re being a clingy bitch.” He said, and Web dropped down onto the couch, hand coming to cover his eyes. He winced when he did so, apparently having forgotten about the bruises.

“So mean.” He mumbled, and Joe ignored him.

“Drugs in the kitchen.” He told Hoobler, nodding to where he’d dropped the bag the hospital had given him on the counter. “Call me if you have to leave, or some shit.”

His neck was starting to hurt again, it was making him slightly more irritable than usual. Hoobler, probably reading that on his face, just nodded and let him pass. 

Joe didn’t bother to turn around, knew that Web was already out cold again. 

“Oh.” He said, halfway to the door, turned on his heel just enough to find Hoobler and point at him. “Take care of him.”

He didn’t tack on the or else, knew it wasn’t necessarily his place, but he must have implied it, based on Hoobler’s expression.

“Yeah, man.” He said. “‘Course.”

Joe nodded and turned back around.

When he checked his phone, out on the street, Chuck had left him on read again. Joe was starting to think that was maybe justified.

--

MAY

“This is your fucking fault.”

“Oh, please, as if—”

“You ran your mouth, so I had to kick your ass, and now we’re—”

“Oh, you kicked my ass? That fuckin’ gash isn’t very ass-kicking—”

“Fucker, if you think that—”

“Okay!” Chuck yelled over both of them, and Joe shut his mouth with a click. Next to him, Guarnere did as well, nursing a rag over the side of his face. “You were both dumbasses. Let’s leave it at that. You both need stitches, you’re both winners. Or losers.”

Joe made a protesting noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, c’mon, Chuck.” He said. “I’m less of a dumbass than he is. He had to go and say some—”

“I am not the only one at fault here—”

Chuck cleared his throat and they both shut up again. Stuck in the backseat of the truck, elbow knocking against Guarnere’s own, Joe glared at him. “Okay.” Chuck said. “Lieb is slightly more in the right than Bill is, here.”

“Ha!” Joe exclaimed, then grimaced. He hated the ha. Bill huffed.

“Fine.” He muttered. It was quiet, for a beat. “Sorry.” 

Joe grunted. “I won.” He said.

“It was a tie.” 

“No, I won.”

--

That was the first thing he told Web, too, when he arrived. “I won.” He said, and Web blinked at him, hands in his pockets. 

“I can see that.” He said. The bruising was starting to fade into yellows and greens instead of purple and black, and the ugly green that spread across the right side of his face made his eyes stand out even more. “Stitches?”

“Twelve.” Joe told him. “Guarnere needed eight more, so…”

The dip between Web’s eyes deepened. “Is he okay?” He asked and Joe snorted.

“He’s fine.” He said. He’d never even needed to change, still in the white shortsleeve he’d shown up in when they’d fixed his arm. “He’s a tough fucker. ‘Sides, he deserved it.”

Web hummed. He was leaning against the hallway wall, watching Joe turn in a half circle and collect whatever he needed to. “Chuck told me about that.” He said, light, and Joe hummed. 

“What, want to talk shit about that?” He asked, slightly defensive. The corner of Web’s mouth ticked up, amused, and Joe paused, watching how it made his eyes sparkle and his bruises slightly more shadowed.

“On the contrary, if we were still together, I think I’d suck you off.” Web told him, looking entirely too proud. Joe hummed.

“Yeah.” He said, low, starting his way down the hall. “If we were still together.”

Web followed him, close on his heels and obviously thinking about something or the other. “Want me to go with you to your place?” He asked, simple, hands in his pockets. 

Joe hesitated, but didn’t stop walking, turning just enough to look back at Web. His neck still almost hurt more than his arm did. 

“What the hell.” He said. “I’m injured, right?”

--

Web still didn’t have a car, and Joe didn’t necessarily need one, so they called another Uber and Joe watched Web, realized what was up with him.

“Finals season?” He asked. Web was leaning back against the seat of the car, cheek pressed to the headrest, and he opened vivid, vivid eyes to watch Joe balefully before huffing.

“They’re out to get me.” He told him. Joe huffed, looked back towards the front of the car.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He said.

“I’m serious. I’m quitting college.”

“You should. It would make you more bearable.” Joe told him. Web stared at the side of his head some more. Joe could tell from the itch at the back of his neck.

“Do you want to know what my therapist said about you?” Web asked him, and Joe snorted, looking back towards him with a raised eyebrow. 

“The one with the nose ring?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she say to tell me?” 

Webster hesitated, eyes sparking in fits and stops. “No.” He said, forever sounding at least slightly contemptible. “But she didn’t say not to, either.”

“I think because it’s implied that people don’t tell their exes about what their therapist says about them in therapy.” 

Web ignored him, sitting up straighter against the seat and sighing. In the front of the car, Joe caught the drivers eyes cutting to the mirror, listening to them. Slightly awkward.

“She said that you still care about me.” Web said simply, almost certainly leaving some details out. 

Joe blinked at him. Of course I do. He thought, and didn’t say. I think I always will. That’s why I’m in this goddamn car at all. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t say a goddamn thing and maybe didn’t need to, just looked back towards the front of the car. The driver was quiet.

“Don’t come up to my place.” Joe said. “Thanks for paying for the ride.”

Web’s voice was small, maybe thin, when he said, “okay.” 

--

JUNE

David couldn’t stop crying, which Joe knew was just a side effect of someone breaking their nose, but it was still putting him on edge.

“It’s okay.” He said awkwardly, rubbing the heel of his hand in absent-minded circles against Web’s back as the other leaned against him, head tucked under his chin as he held Joe Toye’s button up to his face.

“Motherfucker.” Web said, muffled and nasally, and Joe looked up from him to raise an eyebrow at George Luz in the passenger seat of his car, instead.

Luz just raised his hands in the air, eyes widening in some picture of innocence as he looked back at them.

“I did not know he’d be standing there.” He said, for at least the tenth time. Toye, who was driving, just snorted.

“Let’s hope we can scrape together enough to pay for his goddamn medical bills.” He told Luz, sounding hoarse but not necessarily annoyed, and Luz winced.

“I’ll figure it out.” He said, like some sort of apology. 

“It’s fine.” Web said, shifting against Joe, who was still sweeping a hand up and down his back. “I can pay for them, it wasn’t, like, aggravated assault.” 

He sounded congested, like it hurt to speak, wincing when Toye hit a speed-bump and jostled them.

“Sorry.” Toye said, immediately afterwards, and Web just grimaced.

Joe was used to meeting David at the hospital; when he was semi-put together. Not when he was actively in pain and bloody, and it was sort of freaking him out. 

What had happened, in layman's terms: 

Webster had agreed to help Luz move him and Toye into their new apartment; which was bigger than before and in a better area.

Joe had agreed to help Toye fix Luz’s car, since between the two of them, they only had one, which was turning out to work out poorly when they had jobs on opposite sides of the city.

Joe wasn’t aware that Web was also going to be at the apartment until he’d seen him helping Luz move a potted plant.

(Side note, but also important: Joe didn’t think that Toye knew that Luz was having Web come over, either, from the look he shot at him and the way that Luz had smiled back.)

After figuring out what was wrong with Luz’s ancient Honda Civic, Joe had gone up to their apartment and washed his hands. 

He’d emerged from the bathroom at exactly the right time, which was to see Luz putting away pans in the kitchen, pick up another before turning to say something to Joe, and, moving so quickly that Webster, who was walking from the kitchen to the living room, was caught directly in the face by the brunt of it.

Joe was fairly certain that, in the now, Web was bleeding all over his shirt.

“Jesus Christ.” He said. “How the hell did you fuck him up so badly on accident?” 

Luz hummed. “It’s a special skill.” He said as Toye switched lanes, looking absently over his shoulder. They lived further away from the hospital than either Joe or Web did, and the extra dozen minutes seemed to stretch on for days. “Along with the shit that comes out of my mouth and what I put in—”

“George.” Toye said, perfunct, like a warning, and Luz shut up. Joe was glad for it, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d survive being in the back of this car, and he wasn’t even the one with the broken nose.

Speaking of Web, the man in question groaned again, shifting the shirt at his face. “Remember when you said you wouldn’t help me if I was ugly?” He asked, still ever-nasally, and Joe patted his back absently. 

“You’ve taken both a skateboard and a pan to the face, I can forgive you for being an uggo.” He told Web, solemn. Webster’s laugh sounded a bit more like he was choking to death.

“I mean.” Luz said from the front seat. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not that big of a deal. This one broke his nose and it just made him sexier.” He pointed over to Toye, who kept his eyes steadfastly on the road.

Joe made a face. Web groaned, again. It sounded painful.

“At least this time, they don’t have to call me.” Joe told him, after a moment. Web sighed. 

“And my face just healed, too.” He said, sounding entirely put-out. Joe turned his face enough to smile into his hair, not exactly amused, but finding it funny enough to figure to hide it. 

“Let’s just pray that nothing happens to your mouth.” He said grimly, but turned his hand over easily when Web reached for it, still bowed over and trying to stop the bleeding under Joe’s chin. “The one good quality you’ve got left.”

The sound Web made was slightly choked, Joe thought it could maybe be a scoff. “Thank you, Lieb, for your astounding and loving support in such painful times.” He said, all in one breath. “Y’know, when Tipper got hurt you were nice. Or when Tab got hurt—”

Joe winced. Autoshop work was, often and quite usually, dangerous. Everyone had at least one story; Joe’s neck twinged at the thought. “Tip broke his entire ass leg, Web.” Joe told him. “And Tab was impaled.” 

Web made a soft sound that sounded nigh on upset. “I broke my fucking nose, like, fifteen minutes ago!” He said, still muffled. Luz cleared his throat.

“Again.” He said. “Really sorry about that.” Joe ignored him, just pressed his mouth to the crown of Web’s head absently.

“Alright, fine.” He said, still rubbing Web’s back absently. “Poor baby. You precious rhinestone. The world truly collapses with your agony. Do you want me to kiss it better?”

“I hate you.” Web told him. For the second time in three minutes, Joe smiled into his hair. 

“Probably should change your contact info, then.” He said. 

--

Web was steadfastly not happy about the two black eyes.

The first thing Joe said (after the obligatory you look like a raccoon) was, “They could bring out your eyes, in the right lighting.”

Web stared at him like he was trying to set Joe on fire with his mind. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why,” He said. “But this is your fault.”

“Uh-huh.” Joe said absently, looking over Web’s face carefully. “What’s the verdict on the aftermath?” He held out a hand warily, unsure of how good Web’s hand-eye coordination and depth perception would be after that.

Web took his hand, anyways, curling his fingers around Joe’s own and allowing himself to be tugged forwards. He shuffled, a bit, against the linoleum. “They said that it was, and I quote, a freak accident.” He said, and his voice was still slightly nasally. “But not too bad. It shouldn’t change, like, my entire face.”

“That’s good.” Joe said absently. “I like your face.”

“Thanks.” Web said, arid. “Next time, I’d prefer to just lose a leg.” 

Joe snorted. Toye and Luz had already left the hospital, as it had been a couple of hours and Joe had been starting to think that he was going to die if they stayed. Now alone, he’d already called the Uber and guided Web absently. 

“You planning on telling Toye that?”

“Do not tell him I said that.”

“Mm. Poor fucker broke the nose and then lost the leg.”

“And then his fiancé broke my nose.” Web said miserably. Joe hummed.

“Think they’ll go through with it?” He asked, Web’s fingers tightening around his own as he checked his phone again.

“What, the wedding?” He asked, like he was surprised. At Joe’s nonverbal affirmative, he huffed. “Of course they will.” He said. “They’re crazy about each other.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He didn’t even realize that he’d said it, maybe, until it was out of his mouth and too late. “So were we.” He said, and immediately winced.

They must have put Web on some sort of painkiller or whatever else, because he just hummed, rather quiet. “So were we.” He agreed, soft. “But we broke up six months ago, and you held me while we drove to the hospital, and waited for me, and are now holding my hand and taking me home.”

Joe blinked. “Using that literature degree already, huh?” He asked after a moment, hoarse. Web’s hand spasmed around his, sudden, and Joe dropped it like it was hot.

“Yeah.” Web said. “I guess so.”

The uber pulled up. Joe pushed Web inside of it, and hesitated for half of a second before sliding in himself.

It was silent for half of a second. They were moving by the time Joe thought of something else to say, feel more like himself again. “That has to be one of the douchiest things you’ve ever said to me.” He said suddenly.

Web’s laugh was nasally, tired. “I try.” He said, and would probably add an insult for good measure, if he didn’t seem to be so pained.

--

JULY

After it happened for the sixth time in as many months, Joe was starting to think that at least one of them had been cursed.

“It’s not that bad.” Joe said, and winced when Chuck switched lanes too quickly. “It’s just a bruise.”

“It’s broken.” Chuck told him, and sounded both entirely sure of his words and utterly exhausted. “Jesus Christ, how do I keep ending up here? Did you piss someone off?”

Joe contemplated the multitudes of people he’d managed to fuck over for half of a second. “Probably.” He said.

Out of getting clipped in the neck by a carburetor and getting into a fight with Guarnere, getting his foot run over was probably the stupidest reason that Joe would have to go to the hospital on account of himself.

Webster, who insofar had gotten into a car crash (and still hadn’t bothered to find a new car after his previous one was totaled), got smacked in the face, and had broken his nose, could afford to be a bit choosier.

Joe still hadn’t changed his contact information.

It didn’t seem to matter, anyways, because Web somehow met him at the hospital. Joe was in too much pain to care about the how or the why of it.

“What did you do?” Web asked before Joe had even managed to open the passenger door of Chuck’s truck all of the way, then looked to Chuck himself and demanded the same thing. “What did he do?”

The driver's side of Chuck’s truck opened and slammed shut again before Chuck answered, sounding both rather harried and annoyed in the same breath. “He ran over his foot.” He told Web.

Web, in turn, looked back to Joe, who was still trying to get out of the truck without jarring his foot. He was starting to think the adrenaline was wearing off, if the burning was any hint about it.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Web told him.

“What was it that you were giving me shit about when you broke your nose?” Joe asked back, grimacing as his uninjured foot hit the ground. Web was quick to grab his arm and Joe leaned on him grudgingly, keeping the broken foot a good two feet above ground. “I was being mean.”

“Yeah, well, we work for a reason.” Web retorted, arm wrapping around his waist absently. “And breaking your own foot is more moronic than a friend breaking my nose.”

Joe grimaced. He’d forgotten to put the goddamn car in park, and he was never going to hear the end of it. He knew better than to say that to David. He wasn’t necessarily in the mood for old man memory loss jokes.

“If I’ll still help you when you’re ugly, will you help me when I’m crippled?” He asked drily as Web helped him limp into the hospital, Chuck already at the front desk.

“You’re already crippled.” Web told him. “Remember when we drove down to DC and your back gave out?”

“Yeah, and you left me in the truck to go see the National Archives?” Joe retorted, and Web sighed.

“Yeah, but afterwards I pulled you into the hotel room.”

“And then you left me there for another four hours.”

“We were in DC, I wasn’t going to stay in the room the whole time—”

“I couldn’t move!”

Webster was smiling, when Joe looked over at him. It was strangely endearing, underneath all of his annoyance, and he looked away just as quickly. 

“I seem to remember that you forgave me when I got back.” He said, ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, as if to seal his point.

Joe snorted. “Yeah, well.” He said, dry. “When you get old and lose your looks, that shit won’t fly.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Web told him, lowering his voice as Chuck finally finished talking to the desk about whatever, turning to point back at them. “You’ll be long dead by then.”

--

For basically crushing his foot, Joe thought, it wasn’t too bad.

Web was curled up in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he texted someone back. Joe watched him absently, feeling slightly lighter from whatever they gave him, cheek pressed into the flat pillow under him. 

“I can feel your eyes.” David murmured after a moment, looking up at Joe, who didn’t look away. 

“Good.” Joe told him, hoarse. “That means you’re not entirely inept at social interaction.”

They’d deigned that Joe could leave the hospital on the same day he arrived, which was good, because he’d sooner eat a cockroach than stay for much longer. They’d also afforded him crutches, which Joe steadfastly did not want to see the bill for.

“All my injuries seem superficial next to yours.” Web told him, as Joe stood up, rather wobbly, but got the hang of the crutches quickly enough. Joe snorted.

“What, being stabbed in the neck and getting into a fight and breaking my foot compared to you getting wacked in the face by a skateboard, and then a frying pan?”

Web made a face. His nose looked, at least to Joe, exactly the same. He still had gray-green shadows under both of his eyes, remnants of the bruises that had bloomed there from the subsequent breaking, but looked fully intact all in all.

“You’re forgetting the car accident.” Webster told him, following close behind Joe as they made their way out of the hospital for what felt like the thousandth time. They were always in different rooms, or beds, or areas, but leaving always felt the same.

“Oh, yeah.” Joe said, arid. “The shitpot that started this horror. Did you make a deal with a witch? Did you get us bound by pain or some shit?”

“For your information.” Webster said, neatly enunciating and snorting a little around his words, already laughing at a joke he hadn’t even told yet. “It was a blood oath.”

“You’re too much of a pussy to make a blood oath.” Joe shot back immediately. Web laughed more fully, and Joe couldn’t tell if it was at him or his own joke.

“Everytime I get home, Hoobler asks if we’re back together.” He said, so entirely out of left-field and painfully clear that Joe almost paused for a moment, could feel the sharpness of it against his ribs.

“And what do you tell him?” Joe asked, already outside, knowing that Web had already called an Uber. Web, in question, came up behind him, eyes sparkling bright and grin as stupid as ever. He didn’t look at Joe, tried to bite back his smile.

“I don’t know.” He said, rather quiet. “What does having a best friend look like?”

He turned to look at Joe, so Joe looked away, cleared his throat. Not this. He thought, with some semblance of hurting. It doesn’t look like this. 

“You have more wrinkles.” Web said, immediately after that, and the nostalgic ache behind Joe’s ribs went away like Web had smacked him in the face with a cold, dead fish. “Around your eyes.”

“Your nose is crooked.” Joe said back, raising an eyebrow. “You look like Owen Wilson.”

Web’s laugh was quiet, clear, ducking his chin down and watching the floor quietly, the corner of his mouth crooking up as he kicked his heel against the ground absently.

Joe wondered, for the first time since he’d seen him earlier in the day, how in the hell Webster had been at the hospital before them.

Before he could think on it too long, the uber pulled up, and Web swore under his breath, apparently caught in some semblance of off guard, and moved forward to greet him.

Joe pushed the thought to the back of his mind to instead watch how Web’s thighs and ass flexed when he bent over enough to speak to the driver.

He was maybe a little loopy.

--

When they were back in Joe’s apartment, and Web was with him, for the first time in seven months (somehow), he realized what they were.

They were a car wreck, they always had been. And Joe could never look away. 

Webster pushed him down onto the couch immediately, kicking up the legrest and propping Joe’s foot up, already talking about something that Joe didn’t care about and therefore didn’t listen to, moving into the kitchen. 

“Fuck.” He said, eloquently. Web’s laugh was hushed, warm as he moved back into the living room, held a half-filled glass of water out to Joe and dropped onto the couch. 

He was laughing a lot more than Joe was used to, and it didn’t sound exactly happy. He decided that it was probably because of George Luz, who only had one coping mechanism, which Web seemed to be emulating. Joe couldn’t believe they still spent time together, after the nose incident.

When Joe looked more fully over to him, turning his head against the overstuffed headrest of the couch, Web’s bottom lip was in between his teeth again, worrying it as he stared at nothing.

They were thinking the same thing, Joe knew.

“This is torture.” He said, out loud. Web jumped slightly when he spoke, like he wasn’t expecting it. Joe didn’t look away, just raised an eyebrow, rather unimpressed, and Webster cleared his throat and pushed forward against the cushions, eyes dropping somewhere to Joe’s threadbare rug as he got back to his feet.

“Yeah.” He said, and Joe knew that they were thinking of the same thing. Car wreck. “I should go.”

The problem with car wrecks is that some are salvageable. And as with any accidents, one can never look away from them.

“Okay.” Joe said out loud. 

This was another part of it: of them being a car wreck. If Joe was going to blame why they kept doing this, when everything concerning their relationship was a thousand times harder than it would ever need to be, he’d point a finger at the fact that both of them knew they were salvageable and neither of them wanted to look away.

One of them would change in some small thought, or idea, or plan, and the other wouldn’t follow it. Web had thought of something, just barely, and Joe had missed it.

“Okay.” Web said back, quiet. He watched Joe, for half of a second, before looking away. “Have fun watching I Love Lucy. It’s a little after your time, but I think you’ll like it.”

The corner of Joe’s mouth curved up, independent of the rest of his body as he huffed a laugh, pushed a hand through his hair. “Fuck you.” He said, warmer than he’d like.

Web’s eyes were both freezing cold and burning, when he looked back, hesitant. Still, he elected to not say anything.

Car wrecks can be salvageable, Joe reminded himself, and the thought was unwelcome. 

--

SEPTEMBER

It took two more months, in which nothing happened, and then Chuck slipped.

Or, technically, Hoobler slipped, but Joe was slightly too panicked to really give a fuck who, in specifics, gave the whole fucked up, horrendous mind game away.

He wasn’t still sure on the specifics. Didn’t really give a shit about the specifics, anyways, just felt the same thrum of panic that always settled under his skin whenever something happened that felt too real. Too serious.

What he did know:

Hoobler had gotten back to his and Web’s apartment, and Web wasn’t there. He waited approximately three hours, and then, for some godforsaken reason that Joe hadn’t seen (at the time) had called Chuck.

Chuck had, in turn, because of course he did, called Joe.

“Have you seen Web?” He’d asked, and Joe had paused, immediately knew something was off. If not by the way that Chuck sounded than for how he seemed to hesitate, for how absolutely anything about Web seemed to raise some sort of instinct.

“No.” Joe’d said back, rather slowly, apprehensive. “Why?”

Chuck had been slow to answer, the static of the phone filling in his absence, Joe already putting the phone on speaker and moving to text Web. “Uh.” Chuck said, after a moment. “Hoobler can’t find him.”

“What, he can’t find him at the apartment?” Joe sent the text to Web and turned his full attention back to Chuck. 

“He can’t find him anywhere.” Chuck said, tone something that Joe was having trouble reading. “He won’t answer his phone, apparently. We figured that maybe he was with—”

It was midnight, and his curtains were still open. Light pollution managed to illuminate the entire city outside of his window, and Joe watched the cars pass absently. Tab was out of town from May until September, some sort of familial visit, so Joe’d had the apartment to himself for possibly too long. He felt the absence acutely when Web didn’t respond, and Chuck kept hesitating.

“Why the hell would he be with me?” Joe interrupted, not wanting to wait for him to finish, then paused for half of a second. “Wait, we?” 

Chuck sounded invariably uncomfortable when he said, tone of voice marred over the phone, “well, after how quick he’d been to get to the hospital last month, and how he’d barely asked any questions over the phone—”

And.

Wait a minute.

“What the fuck do you mean over the phone?” Joe demanded, pushing away from the window to bring his phone closer to his ear, making a split second decision and moving over to the door, finding his shoes.

“Fuck.” Chuck said, which wasn’t promising, then, after a moment of contemplation, said, “okay, so it was Hoobler’s fault, but no one could figure out why in the hell you split this time ‘round, and he had this idea—”

“Have you been pretending to be the hospital?” Joe shoved his feet into his shoes and slid the lock on his door, barely thinking to grab a jacket and his keys before slamming the door shut behind him and barely sticking around long enough to lock it. Chuck just cleared his throat.

“You’re not stupid,” He started, voice low, and Joe thought his laugh might have been slightly frantic as he skipped down the steps of the apartment building, jacket tossed over his shoulder. His foot still ached with it, ever slight, and he ignored it. “So I’m not gonna bother lying to you—” 

“You pretended.” Joe said again, slowly, as if to properly digest the words. “To be the hospital.”

Over the phone, Chuck cleared his throat. The receiver crackled. “In our defense.” He said, “We didn’t call the first two times. And we didn’t think you’d come so easily.”

“What the fuck.” Joe said out loud, maybe still not properly digesting everything that had happened in the past five minutes. Web was missing. Chuck’s been lying, for some godforsaken reason. 

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Chuck told him, at least seemed to have some modicum of remorse, like he realized like he was doing suddenly, all at once. “It was so fucking dumb, but you two always showed up, and it was easier to leave you at the hospital if Web was there, or vice versa for Hoob—”

“What the fuck.” Joe said, hitting the ground floor at the same time, already moving towards the parking garage. He didn’t use the fucking car a lot, knew that he should probably sell it before something happened to it and he had to sink some godforsaken amount of money into it. Still, he couldn’t exactly call an Uber, and unlocked the car easily. 

“And it was easy to just change our voices slightly, and you never seemed to fucking notice, and the first two times were actually the hospital, but we were—” Chuck kept talking, like he was trying to explain what had to be one of the most fucked up things he’s ever done.

It was starting to make more sense, now. Joe didn’t know why he didn’t think to question it before: why they’d call Web if he just needed a few stitches and knew who he was. Why Web was at the fucking hospital before he was. Why they called him in when Hoobler hit Webster in the face, which led to another realization.

“Chuck.” He said, cutting the other off as he dropped into the driver's seat and started the engine, already looking over his shoulder. Something was cold, floating around his ribs, and Joe ignored it, pressing his mouth together impatiently. “Did Hoobler hurt Web on purpose?”

Chuck’s response was slow, unsure what Joe was talking about. Every slight turn Joe had to make with the car was slightly jerky. “With…” He started, and Joe had pulled out by the time he’d dragged on the word.

“With the skateboard.” Joe said, and knew where he was going. Knew where Web was, almost, except for it was more of a gut feeling than anything else. Web was, if not anything else, a predictable bitch. “Did he fucking—”

“Jesus Christ, Joe, no. Of course not.” Chuck said over him, immediately, the moment he realized what Joe was getting at. “It was psycho enough to call you like that to come to the hospital, we weren’t about to commit a felony—”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you just call us normally?” Joe pulled out onto the main road — which was still just as crowded as ever, even at nearly one in the morning. “Because it seems like that is illegal, Chuck. That straight up sounds like a crime.”

Chuck cleared his throat, again, before responding. His silence, it seemed, was almost as goddamn telling as the fact that Hoobler couldn’t call Web. “To be honest,” He said, low. “I didn’t think that you’d come if one of your friends called and told you.”

“So, what, you arrange a – a parent trap—”

“It wasn’t a parent trap! It was just—”

“You don’t even like Web!”

“I—” Chuck hesitated. “He’s alright.”

Joe breathed, once and very deeply, through his nose before changing lanes, which was a mess. “So why in the hell,” He said, very elaborately. “Would you—”

“No one can figure out why you broke up, this time.” Chuck said. “I — you’ve broken up five times, Joe, and you’re both miserable, and you’re both clearly so—”

“So your immediate reaction, instead of sitting us down and talking, was to pretend to be the hospital?” 

“Would you have listened to us if I’d sat you down and said you’re fucking miserable and I can’t figure out why you broke up with the same person for the fifth time?” Chuck asked him, and Joe was going to have a heart attack. 

“Oh my God.” He said. “What the fuck.”

Chuck didn’t say anything, for a moment, the line going static again. “Do you know where he is?” He asked, rather quiet. The question made Joe, somehow, madder than he’d been before.

“Yeah, I know where he fucking is, and I’m not about to tell you.” He said, looking over his shoulder to make a turn. “And tell Hoobler to go fuck himself, he can sweat it out. Does Web know about this shit?” 

Chuck hesitated for the thousandth time. “I don’t think so. It — it seems like he just left.” 

“What, and you can’t just leave him alone? He’s a fucking adult, for Christs’ sake.” Chuck made a noise at the back of his throat, sounding somewhat affronted.

“Okay,” He said, “So why are you going to go get him, then?”

Joe, who didn’t necessarily want to tell Chuck that absolutely zero amount of executive thought went into setting out to find Web, made an electoral decision and hung up on him.

--

As far as unbearable places on the face of the earth (the parts that Joe’s visited, anyways) go, Penn’s Landing was pretty far up on that list.

Web loved it, though. Always had. Probably always will.

It’s not really like the ocean, he’d told Joe four years ago, sounding like such an utter douche that Joe had to laugh at him, a little bit. But it’s water. It’s nice. 

Penn’s Landing was also fucking huge, so Joe was glad, at least, that Web always went to the same spot.

There was nothing special about the spot. It wasn’t better than anywhere else in the landing, it wasn’t necessarily even more interesting. It was just where he went, every time, for all the six years that he’d had dragged Joe to it.

Joe could see him immediately, the entire landing busy but Web somewhat by himself, leaning against one of the metal railings, his back to Joe.

“Your roommate’s worried about you.” Joe said, as he got closer. It was a testament, maybe, to how they are as people that Web didn’t even bother to turn around.

“What,” Web murmured, eyes on the water, lit by nothing and still glowing, somewhat. “Is he worried I’ll break my face for a third time?”

Joe came up to him, leaned up against the railing next to him. He watched the water. There was nothing enlightening about it. It was rather boring, actually.

“D’you know those fuckers were lying to us?” He asked, as casually as he could, and felt Web look over at him. “After my neck. They started calling us and pretending to be the goddamn hospital.”

Web was quiet for a moment. To his testament, he didn’t even seem slightly alarmed by anything that had happened so far, from Joe showing up to everything else. “I had a suspicion, maybe.” He said, low. “It’s — I dunno why they’d call me for stitches. When my grandfather died they only called my dad when he stopped being responsive.” 

Joe blinked. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything, then?” He asked in the moment after that, near demanding, and David didn’t look at him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, again. 

“Why do you think?” He asked, entirely hypothetical. Joe knew the answer. He watched him carefully.

“Web.” Joe said, and when Web didn’t look at him, cleared his throat and tried again. “David. It was your idea to break up.”

Web laughed, and it wasn’t happy. He wiped his palm down the side of his face, and Joe realized too late why his eyes seemed to shine. “I’m so fucking stupid.” He said, twisting his lips together before smoothing his expression out, some sort of warped display of upset. “I’m such a moron.”

“You’re not stupid, you’re fucking crazy.” Joe told him, and moved closer to him anyway. Web kept his face turned out towards the water, lit by nothing but the slight glow of the city.

“I just got lazy, I think.” Web said, the moment after Joe finished talking, which made no sense whatsoever. “It’s — it’s just so hard, with us. And all we do is fight, and then break up, and then we’re miserable, so we get back together, and then it’s just the same thing. This was — this was supposed to be some sort of clean break.”

His bottom lip quivered slightly as he talked, and for a moment, Joe was so blindingly, frustratingly furious with Chuck and Hoobler and whoever else was involved for fucking with Web and fucking with his head that he had to breathe, for a moment. 

“That’s not lazy.” Joe told him, low. “That’s not lazy, that’s normal. That’s you trying to fix whatever—”

“I love you.” Web interrupted him, so, so quiet, and he finally turned to look at him, hands curled together with his arms propped on the railing, eyes shining and bright for all the wrong reasons as he found Joe’s face. “I love you, and I always will, and it makes me fucking miserable because we work, but it’s like we just take everything too far and it’s—”

He cut himself off with a shaky breath. 

Joe realized, in the second after that, that he had no idea what to say. What to do. What could he do, necessarily, when Web was right, when he hit the nail on the head on how they’d broken up five times in six years but, in all that time, only actually dated each other.

“It should be easy.” Web said, perfunct, emphatic, like he was trying to remind himself of something. “But it never, ever is.”

Joe hesitated, for half of a second, before speaking. “When they called me for the first time.” He said, quiet, and let his eyes leave Web, finally, going out to the water instead. “The first time. Not — not afterwards, or anything, but when it was actually the hospital. When you crashed. Hearing them say that shit was the most scared I’ve ever been, I think.”

Web let out a breath, soft and short, like an exhale, like some sort of a snort.

“It’s true.” Joe told him, still watching the water. “And it’s slightly pathetic. But they called me, and I was getting Chuck to cover me and fucking going by foot down to the hospital in under ten minutes.”

“Joe.” 

“Web.” Joe turned, looking back towards him. Web’s face was the same as it always was; too open, too guarded. “I’m fucking serious, okay? Because it’s one thing to break up, but if you’d been—” He paused, for a moment. Watched Web’s eyes. 

Web didn’t say anything, just watched him, but something in his face flickered, like he was thinking the same thing Joe was. Maybe about Joe’s own accident, with this neck.

“If something had happened that was permanent, I would’ve been there.” Joe said, and the words tasted rather like sawdust. “No matter what, no matter if we’re broken up or not, because I’ve loved you for six goddamn years and I’m gonna keep doing it, because I don’t know how to do anything else, at this point.”

Web’s expression was carefully held, carefully kept, and gouged wide open. “That was—” He started and stopped, swallowing like his mouth was dry. “That was strangely romantic, for you.” Joe made a face.

“Never expect it again.” He rasped. “But that’s how it is. It’s not — it ain’t like I stop loving you each time we break up.”

Something in Web’s expression twisted. He rubbed a palm against the side of his face again with a huff. “I don’t want to keep doing that, though.” He said, hoarse. “I – I mean, how fucking miserable were we, that Chuck got involved?”

Joe couldn’t help his smile, small and wry and slightly painful. “I’m still not sure if he committed a crime or not.” He said, hoarse, and Web laughed, just on the edge of too loud and too bright, fingertips coming to press against his chin, just below his lips, as his gaze dropped back out to the water.

“I’m fucked up for this.” He said, like a warning, and Joe watched his profile, the curve of his jaw, the hair that curled at the nape of his neck. The color of his eyes off of the water. “But it’s — I almost looked forward to getting hurt, because then I could see you.”

Something in his gaze wavered, slightly, and Joe’s mouth felt dry. He remembered breaking his foot, why it didn’t feel, necessarily, very big. Why nothing else really did, either.

Just another reason why they worked, he supposed. They were both fucked up.

“C’mere.” He said, hoarse, after a moment. Web turned just barely to look at him, not really moving, and Joe pushed away from the railing, one of his hands finding the nape of Web’s neck and tugging him forward by it. “C’mon, c’mere, you idiot.” 

Web went to him easily enough, reaching a hand out back to him, tangling it with Joe’s free one and laughing, slight, when Joe tugged carefully at the hair at his nape, leaning further forward.

Kissing him, Web tasted like a caramel frappe. 

Joe grimaced and pulled back. “You have the shittiest taste in coffee.” He said, half a joke, and Web’s smile was brilliant, crooked and dopey. 

“Don’t taste it, then.” He said, quiet, and pushed forward to kiss Joe again.

“Mm.” Joe said, anchoring his fingers more fully into Web’s hair, tapping his thumb along the back of his hand. “It’s almost two in the morning, why the hell are you drinking caffeine?” 

He kissed Web again, deeper, running his tongue along the seam of his lips as Web made a noise at the back of his throat, some sort of protest and sigh in one. 

“You taste like beer.” Web mumbled against his lips. “You’re not one to talk.” 

Joe almost smiled, and Web took the opportunity to lick into his mouth, tangling their fingers tighter together. “Guess not.” He murmured.

--

They would talk, in the morning.

About what this meant. About what they meant: because it got tiring, after a while. To keep going. To have to keep repeating the same section of life over and over again as everything else went on. 

They were work. They always would be. But they could put in the time. Joe knew they would.

(They could be salvageable.)

For now, Joe just drove back along and away from Penn’s Landing, one hand on the wheel and the other on the console, tangled with Web’s own.

The other was half asleep already, caffeine crash hooking into him, cheek pressed against the headrest, mouth open, eyes watching out the windshield blearily. He looked, Joe thought affectionately, like an absolute moron.

He gripped Joe tight, one of his feet tucked up under his thighs, hair stuck up in all directions. 

Joe watched him whenever he could, whenever he could take his eyes away from the road, neck aching slightly and foot slightly more, and couldn’t care less. 

He’d read somewhere (or, more likely, Web had read somewhere and Joe had osmosed the knowledge by proxy) that pain always put things into perspective. That risk always did. 

Perspective had changed since February. Had become more about Web and the future than of Web and the now. Than of whatever stupid fucking hill they’d decide to overreact and die on.

Joe hit a speed bump a little harder than he meant to and Web made a soft noise in the back of his throat, protesting. His fingers twitched slightly, where they were entwined with Joe’s, opening his eyes again, groggy.

Joe huffed a laugh, eyes on the road again, resisted the urge to do something stupid that Web would never let him live down, like lift their tangled fingers and kiss the back of his hand.

Yeah. They would talk in the morning.

--

He was still going to fucking kill Chuck and Hoobler, though.

[jarofstyles]

Dirty Business II - Espresso

A/N: We’re back with more!! We had lots of fun writing their dynamic, they’re probably one of our favorites. Never a dull moment with them, so buckle up! 

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masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, cheating, daddy kink

word count: 13k

Harry knew Y/N knew she was wearing down on him. Caroline has come in once more and Y/N has brought him his coffee and scone, it hadn’t been pretty. Y/N, to her credit, just gave a smile and said she knew what he liked and walked away. Caroline didn’t appreciate that and again accused him of doing shit with her. He told her she didn’t have to worry. He did feel a bit of guilt for kissing Y/N, but at the end of the day? It was going to happen and he knew he was going to. It wasn’t an excuse.... except, maybe it was. He thought about that damn kiss over and over again. It was heavenly. He wished for it again, wanted to taste her mouth and even further— but couldn't. 

Since then, she has been bothering him to break up with Caroline. Something he was going to do but... maybe after Paris. She was right. He needed someone to take care of Oliver if Niall couldn’t. When he went back to his office, Y/N followed. Standing behind his desk, his arms crossed and he looked at her with a raised brow. 

“Is this your doing?”

“What? You think I’d orchestrate this? You flatter me.” Y/N chuckled, walking over to stand in front of his desk. “Believe it or not, it was my father’s idea. Even down to me coming along. I have to give it to him. Said he didn’t trust anyone else with the job.” It was all true. Harry was going to be the next face of the company, he wanted new investors to trust that this company had a long and bright future. Y/N coming along was really for the show aspect, he knew his daughter was beautiful and would help schmooze anyone who wasn’t completely onboard if Harry didn’t already succeed. The two of them would turn up their charm and do the job well. “But yes, make sure you send that information over tonight.... I’ll text you a list of what to pack for the events, I’ll cover the suits and shirts, don’t worry.” Y/N smiled, already excited at seeing him in some nice higher quality pieces. He needed to look the part. Not that he didn’t already, but she wanted to pamper him.

“Jesus... okay. Fine.” He sighed, rubbing between his brows. God damn it. How was he going to survive this type of thing? When she would be in such close quarters that it would be impossible to escape? He was fucked. “Y/N, no funny business. Okay?” He opened his eyes to look at her. She looked like she was scheming. “I mean it, Y/N. Nothing is going to happen. We will be friendly, but nothing like what you’ve got running around in that mind.” He was trying to be serious but, he knew internally this may be his downfall. “Don’t look at me like that. I mean it.” She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t fair that she had such an influence over his body and his heart. It sucked because he had grown to actually like her. When she wasn’t having the bratty rich girl persona on, she was lovely to talk to.

Y/N raised her brows at him, he really thought that his statements were going to work this time. That this time she’d listen and really hold back, keep things professional when she didn’t have to. 

“You mean it huh?” She asked and moved from her place to walk so she was standing behind the desk with him. “If that’s what you have to do... what you have to say so that you feel guilt free, then fine.” Y/N spoke, using her hands to smooth over the lapels of his blazer. “Just going to go to Paris, take care of business and have fun. What’s so wrong about that? Loosen up.” She mumbled, leaning forward to press a few kisses down his jaw. When he let out a frustrated groan she pulled away, “You’re only making things harder for yourself by denying me, Harry, you know I’m never going to give up right?” Y/N looked up at him with mischievous eyes. “But you keep telling me what you need to feel better... it’s okay, but you don’t have to make it this hard for yourself.” She just wanted to kiss him again, so she was tired but of course was denied.

He placed his finger on her lips. The kisses on the jaw were enough to fuck with him. He hadn’t fucked Caroline for weeks now, the last time being after he kissed Y/N. He had to think about her to get hard, went especially hard because he was so frustrated and wished he was buried in her instead. Since then, he felt gross and stuck with his hand. It’s been a few weeks now and it was definitely hard. The finger thing backfired though, Y/N’s eyes lighting up and her hand grabbing his wrist, finger being sucked into her mouth. And it was hot. So fucking hot. Feeling her slick tongue run over and the suction of her mouth, he felt stuck.

Y/N smirked for herself, keeping eye contact as her mouth sucked at his finger. He really shouldn’t have done that, but he did. Harry had let her show him just how badly she’d wanted him yet again. She pulled off his finger and licked up the base of it before pulling him back into her mouth for a few more moments. She wanted to drive him crazy. Once he seemed to pull away she pouted, licking over her lips and giving him a small shy smile. 

“I want you.” She whispered quietly, “so bad..” The girl was whining, desperate for him but she’d never beg. She wasn’t one to beg, no, he’d have to give in. Y/N wasn’t going to leave until he told her to, which she assumed would be now. She’d just occupy the rest of her time planning their Parisian itinerary, packing, getting ready for their big trip. They had about three days till they left, three days for him to get his shit together and accept that he couldn’t deny her during this trip, absolutely not.

He cleared his throat, pulling his fingers away from her. Why had he let her do that? A bit of misstep. He wasn’t confident in this trip. She scared him. Y/N was dangerous for him and yet, he continued to allow her to get her way. 

“Christ.... just— go make some reservations to whatever you want to do in Paris. I’ve never been there, so I don’t mind doing whatever.” He muttered, walking towards the window to look out over the city. He knew in his deep gut that Y/N was wearing him down thin. She worked so hard and even told him she wasn’t giving up. So why did he want to fight so hard again? Oh right. His job. If she was this determined to get him... what would she do if he pissed her off? He was nervous over that and while he knew internally she wouldn’t ruin his life like that, the possibility still lingered.

“Have a good night, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hummed, making her way out of his office and back to grab her things in her father’s before heading out for the day. She would get cozy at home, book everything she needed to before their trip and relax with a bottle of wine. She was very excited. 

The next three days, Y/N has spent booking things. Their itinerary was set, booked in tables for restaurants, booked private tours for all the major attractions, and made some time in the schedule for them to explore all her favorite little corners of the city. Even the night life. She was so excited, mostly because she was going to spend time with Harry, but also that she would be alone in one of her favorite cities with Harry. She spent the last day getting her hair, nails, facial, and waxing done. Regular maintenance before any trip. She wanted to feel perfect to her standard. Y/N had sent over someone to tailor the suits she’d ordered for him in the office during the week, which were then delivered to his house with matching shirts and ties. Everything was packed and ready to go, the only thing left was to get on the plane.

It was a private plane. Y/N’s father owned a few but this one was apparently one of the best. He had arrived before Y/N, kind of shell shocked at just how his life was turning out. Never had he thought he’d be on a private plane to Paris. 

Harry decided that since it was a business trip that he should wear one of the suits Y/N picked out for him. He had taken off the jacket and hung up before he opened up his laptop. There was still work he wanted to do and he knew that Y/N would be distracting him. When she did arrive, he wasn’t surprised to see her looking as gorgeous as ever. She always did. He wanted to see her with no makeup though. Hair normal. No fancy outfits. Just... relaxed. That would be rather nice. She made a beeline for him, giving an actually rather nice hug. 

“Good evening.” He said, a bit surprised at her behavior. He thought perhaps she would sit in the chair across from him, but she lifted his laptop and let herself into the seat next to him.

There was no shame anymore. None. She was doing what her father said and taking what she wanted.

“Good evening.” Y/N smiled happily at him, “Are you excited?” She asked having her entire rich girl persona leave her in these moments. She didn’t have to act for anyone here, didn’t have to impress anyone here, that’s the only reason she even put on the act anyway. To impress people. Here, it was just her and Harry on a plane to France. Y/N had known the crew for years and she had befriended them all. Maybe Harry would be surprised, seeing her treat them as if they were friends rather than employees. Now that she had gotten time alone with him, she felt free to do and say as she pleased. Their only requirement on this trip was to go to these events and meetings but other than that? Absolutely nothing. Y/N would be getting to spend way more time with him that she’d had in the three weeks that she’s known him and that made her very excited. She could show him that she could be fun, that she was actually very laid back and affectionate. She was hoping he’d really get to know her. She buckled up in her seat, looking over at him to see him working on his laptop. Y/N would let him do his work, knowing at some point he’d get bored and have to talk to her. She was doing the same on her phone, sending emails and texts to whoever she needed.

He was pleasantly surprised. Normally when they were out in public, she had a certain tone to her voice. She had this... rich and squeaky voice, but alone, and apparently here, she was normal and sweet. It was odd to be around her like this, but it was nice. Again, it made it harder for him to keep her away. His heart turned to mush with her sweet behavior. She was relaxed and he could tell she liked being next to him. He knew that he had been a bit harsher with her lately but the girl didn’t give it a rest. He could feel her eyes on him after he heard her lock her phone. It lasted 5 minutes before he sighed, looking at her. 

“Have I got something’ on my face?” He asked. It was more a tease because she had been staring for a bit and didn’t have any shame in being caught. Y/N smiled at his comment, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

“Mm, now you do.” She hummed, letting her hand move to gently rub off the lip stick she’d transferred on to his face. She was so fond of him, couldn’t stop herself from staring and talking to him. He just proved to be the most attractive man she’s ever met and she stood by that. From his voice, to the way he walked, to his stare. He was powerful and smart and everyone in the room knew it when he walked in. He is and will be extremely successful in the business and Y/N knew that all too well. She wanted him for herself because he deserved a wife like her, who was going to devote her time to worshiping him. Not some girl who would rely on him financially. She looked over at one of the flight attendants as she told Harry to put his laptop away for take off, offering the two something to drink at their request. 

“Wine?” Y/N raised her brow at him, “I stopped by the bakery on the way here too, got your favorite.”

His face softened. She always went out of her way to give him things. She learned things and didn’t forget. Y/N was sweet and he was so conflicted because it was so hard to keep his resolve when she showed how genuinely sweet the girl could be. 

“Wow... thanks. I’m good on the wine but, you didn’t have to.” She really didn’t have to but the fact she did made him happy. It meant a lot to him. He squeezed her hand as a thanks. Y/N seemed to appreciate that. “How did you even remember what my favorite things are? I didn’t even mention half of them more than once or even at all and you just get them for me?” He knew she must have been really observant, or a hacker.

“You’re very welcome.” She hummed, telling the flight attendant to make some coffee instead, looking back at Harry when he squeezed her hand. As a form of comfort, she began rubbing her thumb over his hand while the plane began to take off. “Dunno just... when you like someone, you just remember things.” Y/N shrugged, knowing she’s always been that way. “At least... I make an effort too, I don’t know.” She hoped that he didn’t find it weird, mostly because she herself wanted to be treated that way. She wished someone loved her the way she loved people. Once they were in the air the flight attendant brought their coffees, croissants and scones. 

“Help yourselves too! I definitely won’t be able to finish them all.” Y/N smiled back to them, watching as Harry went to reach for one of the scones. She was pleased knowing she’d done a good job.

“That was really kind of you.” He murmured when she sat back down next to him. “I haven’t been in this type of business world too long but I know a lot of people don’t do that stuff so you probably made their whole day.” He was impressed. It just made it more difficult to ignore her charm and allure. It was going to be hard this trip. Half of him was ready to give up now. Let her kiss him and have a romantic time in Paris. Y/N would be a good lover, he thinks. She was thoughtful and sweet and she could fucking kiss. He sat and watched her interact with the staff, her eyes always coming back to him. He was trying to be less obvious that he was looking at her but it was difficult not to. She was airy and bright like this. Much better than how she acted at the office or in the city. Was this the real her?

“I’ve known them a long time, they’re practically family to.” Y/N spoke, looking between him and the staff. Was it shocking to him that she could treat people well? Of course her father was ruthless, but she? She had a heart. It was a huge reason she would never really get into the business. That didn’t mean she could be ruthless because lord knows she could be. She had noticed Harry looking at her, giving him a smile whenever she did catch him. Of course she had been looking at him too, she really liked him. God, did she like him. Y/N has spent hours researching things he talked about, things he liked, just hoping she could get to know a little bit more of his mind. She just wanted him for herself, wanted that devotion. 

Y/N did eventually feel herself falling asleep, getting tired while listening to him type away at his computer. She didn’t really say much, simply rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled against him. She’d been dreaming about doing this for weeks now and it was truly meeting up to her every expectation.

Harry told himself it would be a dick to move her. Realistically, he felt good when she decided to nuzzle against him. The fact she felt safe, even when he had been so distant and kind of cold to her, she didn’t stop. He wondered if this is how it would be if they were in a relationship. Would this be the side he sees? Sleepy Y/N with soft lips, resting against his body? The trust she had in him already to keep her safe was so astonishing He stared at her while she slept. When slight turbulence hit, he gently comforted her back to sleep when she whined. He already thought about her all the time. He wanted to know more of her likes but he had tried so hard to block it out. Maybe it would be fun, this trip.

They landed in Paris rather quickly, Y/N being thrilled at that. She thanked the crew for their work and told them to enjoy their week in France, making her way off of the plane down to the car that was there to meet them. Y/N could tell that Harry wasn’t used to this luxurious way of living but she was hoping he’d get more comfortable with it when being around her. 

“I think you’re going to love it here.” Y/N smiled, “the hotel is lovely as well. I’m so excited!” She giggled, taking hold of his hand again just because she wanted to be touching him. The drive into the city didn’t take too long, Y/N making herself familiar with the surroundings once again. The Ritz Carleton was marvelous, absolutely stunning. The decor on the inside made it look straight out of a royal palace and it’s why Y/N loved staying there so much. She liked feeling like a princess. Of course, her father had booked them a suite, to bed one bath. The room with the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower and a terrace.

Harry felt like he was In some kind of storybook. There was no way this was real... right? He was in awe. Stepping into the hotel, he also felt severely out of place. Sure, Y/N has bought him designer shit but inside? He still wore primary tee shirts at home. 

“Well... shit.” He muttered, the doorman bringing their bags to each room. He told them to give Y/N the master bedroom and he would take the smaller of them both. It wasn’t like it mattered. They were both huge. “This place is like... one of those fake storybook places. I never knew hotels like this existed.” He muttered. On the kitchenette table— was 3 gift baskets, with fruit, one with wine and cheese, and the other with luxury soaps. He was indeed shocked at how much they went out of their way to spoil guests. How much was this place a night?

“Yeah? It’s part of the reason why I love coming here so much... it’s.. magical.” Y/N smiled, quickly going to take his hand and bring him to the terrace so he could see the view. She giggled a bit at his amusement. “That’s how you know you’re in Paris.” She cooed, “I’ll give you a moment... I’m going to go change.” With that, she was off to her bedroom, quickly taking her suitcase and unpacking everything into the closet as she usually did for a trip like this. She pulled out her pajamas, just a T—shirt and some cotton panties, and her toiletries, heading off to the bathroom to get all comfy cozy. Of course, she was a little nervous, seeing as Harry had never seen her not dolled up. She was confident in how she looked, but just a bit more shy about it. After an extensive skin care routine, Y/N had walked back into her room and put her clothes away, grabbed her phone and walked out into the living room area. “You hungry? room service here is delicious... and you didn’t eat lunch so we are pigging out.” She told him and finally looked up from her phone to find where in the room he was.

Harry has changed too, considering It was definitely too tiring to go out. He had put on sweatpants and a tee shirt that said ‘eat your honey’ with a little bee on it. His reading glasses to the side, he sat in the living area. Looking out, you could see lots of things. The buildings, the tower, the fireplace and TV. It was unreal. He had sent photos to his mum and sister as well as niall, which had all three of them freaking out over how incredible it was. He wasn’t expecting Y/N to come out with a fresh face though. He thinks that may be the moment he was fucked. Seeing her natural, bare, dressed down? His heart did a little thing. She was beautiful. Like— really fucking beautiful. Without makeup, without it all, she was stunning even more. He thought she looked good most of the time but now especially, he was in a bit of shock. How? He truly couldn’t get over it. 

“Uh... yeah? That's fine with me.” He blinked a few times and waited for her to come over with the menu. She sat close, heat from her body leaking into his as she leaned against him. First sign of weakness was that he didn’t read just— just felt her. He wasn’t sure she had shorts on underneath the large shirt. He didn’t want to know, actually.

Naturally, Y/N blushed when she noticed the look at Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking, surely he wouldn’t say anything if he thought she looked bad. Lord knows her exes had told her man times that she looked ill without makeup on. It was then that she started wearing makeup everyday. She wanted to feel close to Harry, happy that he didn’t shift when she leaned into him this time. 

“What are you in the mood for? If you want, we can get two mains to split and a few appetizers?” She explained, knowing this menu by heart. French cooking at it’s finest? She couldn’t wait to dig in. They had decided on what they wanted and Y/N went to order, in French of course. She ordered their dishes and a few bottles of wine, as well as some dessert. Harry would be eating like a king tonight, she would make sure of it. “Alright, should be here in about 25 minutes.” Y/N came to sit next to him, again moving so she was real close. She liked seeing him all dressed down, he looked very comfortable and it made her feel really domestic despite being in a place like this. “How are you feeling?”

He was rather enthused by watching her. She was interesting and he was kind of seeing her in a new light. She was polite to workers and kind to strangers, even with her prissy voice on. It seemed that out of New York, she felt happy. At home more around him than when they were actually at home. 

“I’m okay. Probably gonna be a bit jet lagged but I’m excited to be here. S’beautiful.” And so was she. He couldn’t stop thinking and this was bad for him. He needed to relax. Calm himself down. Realize that it’s okay, it’s just Y/N and he shouldn’t... however that part of his brain was being squished little by little. “How about you? You seem excited.” She did. She was happy and he was wondering if part of it had to do with him being there with her. Or if maybe Paris is just her favorite place. He liked it quite a bit already. Y/N moved to push a few hairs away from his eyes, giving him a soft sweet smile. 

“Good...” She cooed, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m... I’m really excited.” She didn’t want to be too obvious about it but he had read her quite well. It was clear that she thrived when she was on her own, when the expectations of her family weren’t on her. She was a powerful woman, everyone knew that, but she was sweet. She meant well. “Guess I just.. I like being away from everyone.” Y/N explained, “my parents and all the people I know in New York.” She wasn’t sure if it would make sense to him but she’d try her best to paint the picture for him. “Can be my own person here, don’t have to think about what I’m doing or breathing even... but it’s also nice just being here with you..” Y/N admitted, chuckling at the look on his face. “What? Are you really that surprised?” She really wasn’t sure how he didn’t get it yet. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you for you to believe me.” Y/N let her hand find its place in the curls on the back of his neck. “‘m not going to beg for you Harry, I don’t beg.” She told him, “people only ever get one chance with me... but you just... I actually like you, and you’re the one thing I can’t have.”

“Why?” He had to ask. It didn’t make much sense at all that she was so into him out of all people. Granted, he was flattered. Of course he was. But he just didn’t get it. “Why do you want me so badly? I just don’t understand the interest. You’re of a higher class, you’re beautiful, you’re educated. I went on a scholarship to Oxford, I wear primark— your worlds h&m or whatever, I eat McDonald’s and take away all the time and I live in a small apartment.” He furrowed his brow. “Why am I such a want for you? I don’t understand. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pass any judgement in to you or anything but it’s just... hard to wrap my head around the fact that you’re so set on having me when there’s so many other men that could give you a much more comfortable life.”

It broke her heart to hear him talk like that. Not only did he think that she wouldn’t want him because of their different classes, but because he thought he couldn’t offer her the life that she wanted. As if he’d know that a comfortable life came with its own set of struggles, ones that people didn’t see as justifiable. Everyone thinks money can buy happiness. 

“Harry, I’d give up my whole life just to be happy and cared about.” She said softly, again seeing the look of confusion on his face. “Look, I get it. I’m this spoiled bratty little girl who has never had to work a day in her life. Yes I have everything I could ever want, could ever need— except for the one thing that money could never buy.” She looked away from him and began toying with the hem of her shirt. Y/N hated showing weakness but if it meant that he could understand where she was coming from she’d do anything. Including showing her hand a bit. “And I see someone like you.. someone who has ambition, who is stable and who shows so much potential both in his career and everywhere else. Someone who’s kind and someone who... who doesn’t particularly care who I am or what I have or what I can offer.... someone who is a genuinely good guy, not some hot shot who thinks because he can buy me an island I now bow down to him.” Y/N finally looked up at him. “Just want to know what it’s like to actually have someone care about you..”

“I’m.... i’m sorry.” He said after a few moments of silence. “That I assumed things of you, of what you want. That wasn’t fair of me.” He did feel guilty. What he saw was a girl who just wanted someone to care about her. Actually. Someone who would give her attention that wasn’t for money. The same way she must have been showing her affection with the gifts and things. He felt badly now for acting annoyed. “I really understand that. I can’t imagine how it is to grow up in that sort of environment. I’m lucky because my family was and is still close but... I do care about you, Y/N. More than I should. I’m sorry that I’ve been so hard on you.” He gently took her small hand and squeezed it. “I loved all your gifts. They aren’t necessary, but you put a lot of thought into them and every one, I’ve used. I have the tee shirt in my bag, that you got me. I don't want you to think that I didn’t like them.” He felt terribly guilty now that he could see some truth. At first he thought maybe she wanted him because he was new and interesting but she hadn’t lost interest.

“It’s okay... I sort of expected it, but I’m glad you let me explain.” Y/N offered a small smile as he squeezed her hand. “Cause I know I can be that girl... and I am to some extent, but at the end of the day that isn’t who I want to be and I want you to know that.” She wouldn’t be that bitchy girl her whole life, especially if she was dating Harry. Sure, she’d be that way around work and around places she knew people would be, but around him? Around his family and friends? She’d be the real her. “You did?” Her eyes lit up at the idea of it. She was really glad he had enjoyed her gifts, the records, the shirts, the candles, all of it. Y/N felt her stomach get all fuzzy, “I’m really glad you like them... I really just got stuff that made me think of you. There’s a bunch of stuff I’d like to get you, those suits being some of them.” She smiled brightly, “you looked really nice today by the way...” Y/N was really just a soft girl. Once she was comfortable and someone they really got to know her, she just wanted to love and be loved. She could go on for hours just listening to him talk about his life and his cat and all that good stuff. She just wanted a friend that was genuine, luckily Harry happened to be extremely attractive as well.

“I figured you’d pick out good ones. You have a good boutique so, I do trust you in fashion.” He smiled lightly. Y/N has gotten a good amount of things for him to wear here and he was just letting her dress him because in all honesty, he didn’t know the best thing to wear with what. Suits were easy but she hadn’t only gotten him suits. Shirts and pants and all that. “It must be hard to get up every day and put on and put together an outfit and match your makeup and all that. M’lucky with a suit. It’s easy to put on, but you manage to always look put together. It must be a bit exhausting.” Not that it wasn’t worth it but he was hoping to see more of the light makeup. None. “I like the no makeup thing. You’ve got long eyelashes though. My sister got extensions on them and she loves them— did you get those?” He was trying to show his interest because he still did feel badly. He had equal interest but had been hiding it every day and Y/N was being honest and open.

“Thank you... but no, it’s actually really fun.” Y/N felt herself smile at the thought of it actually. “The whole process of getting ready, from picking out the outfit to doing the makeup. It’s really fun. When I have nowhere to go on the weekends, I’ll stay in just like this and lounge all day.” She admitted, raising her brow as he went on to tell her about how he liked her with no makeup on. That was something she never thought she’d hear. Here she was sitting there all nervous because she would think he’d think of her differently now that he could see every freckle and dark circle on her face. Her face must have been beet red. “Don’t have to lie...” She chuckled, “But thank you... I didn’t really like the extensions cause I rub my eyes too much when I don’t wear makeup and they’d always fall off.” She explained, “I either like how I look with lots of makeup or with none at all... it's an internal thing.... but I’ve had too many exes tell me they think I look sick without makeup on, so it just always in the back of my head.” Y/N really had been through it in the past. She wasn’t one to wear it on her sleeve but she’d been cheated on and abused and manipulated so many times. It definitely had lasting effects on her. “I really do appreciate your compliments... I do. It’s hard for me to accept them but it means a lot to me.”

“The hell? They’re full of shit. I can admit I’ve seen some people who look like they could use some of that face stuff but you? No way in hell.” He scoffed. Exes. He wondered about those. What type of man did she date before? He was curious to know what happened in those relationships and why she thought he was lying about what he was saying. He wasn’t. “M’not lying. Your exes are pieces of shit if they genuinely told you that, and awful liars. You’re welcome though.” He shrugged. The food got there quickly after he said that, and was wheeled into the table area. He stood up and was astounded at just how much food there was. “This all looks really damn good.” He muttered to her. “Are those macrons?” 

----

It was safe to say Y/N had a lot of thinking to do in bed today. She’d opened up a lot more than she had expected to Harry and now he knew a lot, enough to understand her more than he did and now things were noticeably different. Sure, he was still a little hesitant, but he seemed a lot more open to her kind gestures and her remarks, of course her kisses were still denied. Harry really was as calm and charming as she thought he was. He opened up a little bit more about the things they liked and they bonded over music. They both shared a love for Fleetwood Mac, the zombies, and other oldies that she felt many guys liked just to say they liked it. They had a similar sense of humor as well which helped, but of course it sucked because he technically still had a girlfriend. She wasn’t sure if he was going to break up with her or not, but surely their chemistry was undeniable. Y/N wouldn’t rest until he was hers, she didn’t care what he said, she’d have him by the end of this trip if not earlier. 

When she woke up in the morning, she went to the bathroom to freshen up, slipping on a robe for warmth and smiling when she noticed Harry sitting outside on the terrace with breakfast. It seemed like something out of a romance movie. 

“Bonjour..”

“Bonjour.” He greeted back. He wanted her to walk over and straddle his lap. Give him kisses and open up the robe so he could see underneath and touch and kiss on it. Maybe even slip out of his pants and have her sitting on him, make love to her on the balcony. He snapped out of it as her chair made a noise and she sat down. 

“I remembered your eggs Benedict and the mimosa. I also got the stuffed strawberry toast because you like strawberries a lot.” He cleared his throat. He was going to return the thoughtfulness she had shown him. She was so lovely and thought of things that would make him smile and now he was going to do the same and make her feel cared for. Even if it wasn’t necessarily romantically. His little mind dream before had been a clue though. He needed to break up with Caroline for real. He shouldn’t have daydreams of another woman on him, let alone the term making love come to his mind.

Y/N smiled brightly as she took a seat, admiring all the food before her. He really did this for her? Did he really go out of his way to make sure he ordered things she liked because he wanted to make it up to her? Y/N could jump him right now if he’d let her. 

“Harry... thank you.” She felt really warm inside. “This is really sweet.” Y/N got all blushy again and went to dig into her meal. “Did you get some sleep?” She hoped that the jet lag wasn’t too bad for him. Y/N was used to traveling so her body clock was all over the place. She slept when she was tired. “We have the day off so... we can get dressed and go out in the city and explore. I can take you to some of my favorite places.” 

It was a Sunday morning in Paris, the two could do absolutely anything they’d wanted. She decided they’d go for a walk down Champs Élysées, see the arch de triumph and end the night around the Eiffel Tower. They could take their time getting ready and going out, they didn’t have a schedule today so they were free to do as they pleased.

“Yeah, I did actually. I think the plane tired me out enough.” He had slept a good 4, 5 hours so he felt good enough. He woke up earlier than normal however he didn’t mind. He talked to his mum and ordered them a good breakfast. “We can do that, yeah. I’ve never been so, it’s a bit exciting.” He wasn’t nervous, oddly enough. It would be the both of them alone in a city but he was more excited. Y/N would know the good spots to hang around and that was exciting to him. Especially because she was truly excited to show him around. “Where were you thinking of going?” He questioned. He was hoping for a few shops so he could get his mother and sister something. Gemma had been to Paris once on a school trip but his mother had never. He was the first in his family to make decent money.

“Mm, well, I was thinking we could go walk in the area towards Champs Élysées... do some shopping? Get some food... just some exploring really. I’m saving all the actual touristy bits for later in the week. I’m sure the louvre is packed right now.” Y/N was glad to hear he got some rest, he looked really good. He sounded even better. She liked how deep his voice was usually, but it was particularly deep in the morning. She had no doubt that Harry would fall in love with Paris. All the little shops and boutiques, all the cute places to get coffee and sandwiches. She truly was over the moon about being here with him. Y/N took her time eating her breakfast, going through her emails on her phone for a bit before deciding it was time to get ready. “I’ll meet you in here when I’m ready.” Y/N cooed, “thank you again for ordering for me..” She smiled making her way to the bathroom to get herself all fresh and ready. He said he liked the way she looked with no makeup so she decided to leave her skin dewy and fresh, adding some winged eyeliner and mascara while doing the classic French thing of putting on a red lip. 

“Are you ready to go?”

Harry pulled on some silky soft shirt Y/N had gotten him. It was baby blue but he decided to not button it all the way, and a pair of skinny jeans with his worn boots. It was comfortable and he wanted it to be that way. It was warm so he decided to forgo the jacket, instead tucking his wallet and phone into his front pocket. He knew pickpockets were a thing so he wasn’t changing it in the back. The makeup she wore looked very good. Classic. Just... more natural except for the red lip but it brought out how beautiful they were. Soft as fuck, too. He remembered how good they felt. It was getting more and more difficult to keep himself in check. “Yes. You look lovely. I like that makeup.” He complimented, making sure he tucked a room key into his wallet as well.

“Thank you. That shirt looks really good on you.” She wasn’t used to all the compliments from him, but god was she thriving off of them. Y/N visibly brightened up at his words and smiled. She was eyeing him up properly. She could eat him up. All she wanted to do was lick right up his chest but that would be a bit much for the hour of the day it was. Maybe later. “We’re actually close by so we don’t have to take a car.” Y/N hummed, clicking the button on the elevator and waiting for it to arrive. She decided against heels today seeing as they’d be walking around and instead went for boots. It made Harry a bit taller instead of eye level with her, making her feel rather feminine. 

The two of them looked good together, it was quite obvious by the way that people looked at them as they walked by. It made Y/N feel all giddy inside to think that these people all thought they were together. Of course, that’s all she’d ever wanted. It was beautiful out. Harry couldn’t believe he was actually in Paris, walking around, staying in a 5 star hotel with the prettiest woman he had ever met. It felt unreal. Like it was all coming full circle and he was in awe. 

“Wow... it's so gorgeous out here.” He whispered to her as they walked towards wherever she was taking them first. He trusted her to show him a good time. If anything, he knew she would provide good company. “How many times have you been here?” He asked, gently grabbing her hand when she tripped slightly on a cracked brick. “Oop. Gotta watch. You’re a lot shorter without those heels on, but it’s a good thing you aren’t wearing them on the street.” He smiled.

“I reckon I’m better talking in them than I am in normal shoes now.” Y/N chuckled, allowing herself to slot her fingers with his. If he was already holding her hand, she didn’t want to let it go. “I wanna say... in the teens if not twenties now?” She had been to Paris many times. “I do the whole fashion thing and so does my mom so Paris is quite essential.” She loved it. It was a place where she could escape, a place where she could express herself and was always welcomed by people. Y/N led him inside a vintage store her friend owned, knowing Harry loved those types of things this was exactly where he was meant to be. 

“Y/N! si agréable de te voir.” Y/N! so nice to see you her friend Jacqueline cooed as she saw her. 

“Chéri, c'est bon d'être bacm.” Darling, it’s good to be back. It was then that Jacqueline noticed Harry, smiling at him and at Y/N. 

“C'est ton copain? c'est un si bel homme.” Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome She asked, to which Y/N nodded in agreement. 

He might as well be her boyfriend, Harry thought with a smirk. Y/N didn’t know he spoke pretty good French. But obviously, he felt... okay. He should call it out and tell her that he wasn’t her boyfriend, but he liked hearing that. The pride on her face when she said it too... it did strike him. She would be that proud to be with him? He walked around and found a few cool vintage tee shirts. Older bands and French tee shirts from the 80’s which he found fascinating. All of it was incredibly cool. An old pair of sunglasses as well, he picked up and fell in love with. They weren’t special, not at all, but something about them felt good. 

“Find anything?” She was sorting through the dresses and he could see some things on her arm. It felt oddly normal and domestic, the both of them shopping together. He was trying to relax and let the feeling soak into him that perhaps this was good. Maybe this was just what he needed to experience to see that maybe he could give it a shot. Of course this was Y/N’s ultimate fantasy, shopping in Paris with her hopefully soon to be boyfriend. She loved knowing he was around, that if she turned the corner he would be there and she could go up to him and lean up on him and kiss his shoulder or whatever she wanted. It made her feel all giddy inside. “Hmm?” She turned her head as he came up behind her, Y/N smiled at him and saw he had picked up a few things. “I really like the color of this..” She showed him the set, “I’ll have to do some sowing but... I’ll make it work. And I really like this.” She said, holding up the vintage corset that her friend had held in the back for her knowing she’d like it. “How about you?” Y/N asked, nodding at the things he had seemed to pick up. She thought the shirts were cute, the sunglasses even better. “Love that.” She smiled up at him, liking the dream boat shirt. “You definitely are a dream boat.”

Her compliments meant a lot to him. He knew that she meant them wholeheartedly. It felt good to be on here with her and comparing things they were picking up. Truly, it felt like a whole other level. He liked it a bit too much. 

“Thanks.” He laughed, placing the things back on his arm. He was done but he followed behind Y/N as she looked through the final few racks before they made their way to check out. He took out his wallet and paid, letting Y/N go after because she was talking to the owner. He could hear her talking about him again. How he was handsome and where she had found him.

It was nice to have someone be proud of being with him, even if they technically weren’t. He was feeling a bit of guilt for feeling this when he was technically still with Caroline but Y/N was just next level. Different. Something no one else could be. Y/N took Harry’s hand as they left the store, taking his hand comfortably again. 

“It’s cute in there, yeah? Got lots of little vintage shops all around here... but if you’re thinking about the nice stuff...” Y/N led him to turn left, the Champs Élysées. “The biggest shopping street in the entire world.” She said with a small smirk. There were hundreds of designers, hundreds of regular stores, brand names, boutiques. You name it. Y/N knew they’d definitely find something here for his sister and mum and Y/N absolutely wanted to help in any way she could. The women in his life deserved to be pampered and spoiled, especially his mother for raising a son like him.

“Hm. I’m not sure I’m at the pay grade to normally shop at any of those.” He admitted. He made good money, yes. But a splurge on clothes every week or spending ten grand on something yet wasn’t something he could fathom. He knew that he was getting a raise soon and potentially another promotion but it was still hard. Living in New York wasn’t cheap and a quarter of his paycheck went to rent, then some to bills and food and the rest he saved. He wanted to buy a home one day. “I’m happy to come in with you though.” He wasn’t against looking. “Maybe get one or two things but I’m not going crazy. I don’t care if you do, though.” He didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t shop. He wanted her to enjoy herself and he hoped that she would get whatever she wanted, if that’s what she chose.

“You are on vacation though, can spoil yourself a little bit.” She hummed, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles as she pulled him into the Gucci store. Lots of things here reminded her of him, particularly the rings. She knew he wore lots of them and well, she felt like he needed a few proper ones. A few hundred dollars for a ring? Wasn’t too bad at all. She could buy him a couple if he wanted, Y/N waited to see where he went first before she made any choices. Maybe he’d go there on his own? She looked around the store but ultimately she did love their jewelry and handbags. So, she decided she really wanted to get this blue velvet and floral embroidered bag, looking at the rings in the case to see if she spotted anything she liked for herself and for Harry.

Harry hummed as he looked around, though he was certainly keeping an eye on Y/N. He felt a protectiveness over her growing. Making sure she was okay, happy where she was. She was glowing now that she seemed to be in her prime. Fashion really was right for her. He approached as she looked at the ring case, looking over her shoulder. A hand was placed on her back as he leaned over. 

“Which are we looking at?” He murmured, a bit close to her ear. He wanted to see but also... kind of wanted to see what her reaction would be with him being this close. The rings were cool. Eccentric. He loved them, actually. There was one with a lion holding a gem between its teeth, another just really flashy ruby one he liked so much. He wasn’t sure which one Y/N would like for sure but the pearl looking one and the band with flowers looked like it would be her type. He was happy to feel Y/N melt into his touch, her breath hitching at his hot breath so close to her ear. 

“I like a few... that one in particular.” Y/N pointed to the one with the flowers on the band. “Excuse me, could I see this in a size 16? Thank you.” She watched as he went to get it out for her. “And, the lion for him, please.” Y/N didn’t know what size he was in rings but she would surely find out now. “It reminds me of you..” She mumbled, trying on the ring for herself and nodded and decided to get it. There were a few more rings she had asked for him to try on deciding she’d get him the two he liked best. She didn’t care what he said, he was going to get those rings regardless. “What are you thinking?” Y/N cooed, desperately wanting to kiss on him at that moment. She could see he clearly liked the lion and the one with the ruby, “I’ll get them for you.” Y/N didn’t wait for him to answer, she just told the man helping them that she wanted those three rings and the bag. She cupped Harry’s cheeks in her hands, “just let me do this for you? Please?” She whispered, wishing she could kiss his nose but the red lipstick was really holding her back from that.

He felt his breathing catch. He was going to tell her no, that it was fine but she had to go and grab his face with her warm hands and lean up to look up at him. He felt her little thumb rub over his cheekbone and he could have sworn right there that she was a witch. She was enchanting. Tempting. Every nerve in his body felt sensitive just looking at her. His eyes scanned her face, feeling warmth in his tummy going up to his chest. How? She was putting spells on him and he felt the want for her rising as the day went on but she was so sweet. So giving to him. 

“Y/N... are you sure?” In other days he might have removed her hands but didn’t. He liked how they felt. She responded well to his crowding of her, and liked to be close to him for sure. He was becomming whipped as fuck.Y/N noticed how he softened right then and there, smiling gently at him.

“Yes. I’m positive. You deserve some more rings on your fingers, to add depth to your handshake.... and other things.” Y/N smirked, already thinking about him spanking her ass with his ring clad hand. She would lose her mind like that. She moved her hands down to his chest and eventually let go, very happy to be treating him to something nice. He certainly deserved it. They were having such a nice day, Y/N had forgotten all about her family back home and all about the fact that he had a girlfriend. The only thing on her mind was him. 

This could very well be their future, traveling around together and shopping and exploring. Spending time together with no worries. All he had to do was be hers. The company would be in his hands, it would likely be in his hands even if she wasn’t involved. 

Once they’d wrapped up at the Gucci store, Y/N felt like they were on a whole new level. With each passing moment she felt closer to him, each store they stepped in a new level up. By the time they got back to the hotel room, stuffed from dinner, she still didn’t want to leave his side. 

It didn’t take much convincing, after they both changed she called him into the living room to drink some wine and snack on the fruit and cheese the hotel had left for them. Harry was feeling like he was going to lose it. He didn’t know how he had been able to stay away but now that he was actually in close quarters with her, experiencing her sweetness and her touches and there were no expectations? He could find himself a bit mad. How was he going to stop? He wasn’t. See— he realized when they’d gotten back that he was being an idiot. Though he was nervous about his job, Y/N wasn’t the type to do that for vengeance. He would never cheat on her. He was so into her. Sexually, personality, emotionally. She had her fist on his heart. She wouldn’t be hurt by him and there was no way to predict the future. 

He had changed, coming into the little kitchenette to grab the wine Y/N had poured. However, he could see her from behind, reaching up into an ornate cabinet above the counter and a flash of lace under the big tee shirt seemed to make his brain short circuit. That was it. He had it. 

Fuck it all.

He approached from behind, pressing himself against her. His hand grabbed the glass but he didn’t move, taking a deep breath as he grabbed the counter. 

“You... know what you’re going to me.” He muttered into her ear. She had gasped when he had come closer but especially now, she seemed spooked at how he had grabbed her. Hands going for her waist.

Y/N has backed off significantly today. She wanted to see how the two of them would work when she wasn’t being super pushy and when he actually let go a little bit and provided that banter. She couldn’t have been happier with the result, she felt a lot closer to Harry, felt like she knew him a lot better and of course he now knew her for who she really was. What she wasn’t expecting was this. She wasn’t sure what she did this time but it clearly seemed to get under his skin. 

“Wasn’t...” She breathed out, leaning back into him a little bit and even more when she felt his hands on her waist. She turned her head so they were nearly touching lips and looked up at his eyes to see what was going on. His pupils were dilated behind belief and seeing him like that sent tingles throughout her body. She turned so she was facing him, hand moving up his chest. “What’s gotten you so worked up?” She asked, genuinely curious because lord knows she tried every trick in the book and it never worked before.

“You weren’t flirting. You weren’t touching me and I... fucking missed it.” He kept her backed into the counter so she couldn’t escape— even though he had a feeling she wouldn’t want to. He was going crazy. “I wanted it so fucking bad. I wanted you to kiss on me and touch me and I wanted you to say cute and dirty shit... fuck, it’s so bad because I shouldn’t, but you’re always there in my head and you’re never leaving.” He hissed, feeling himself getting worked up. “Can’t get hard without thinking about you— you know what I had to do, Y/N? I had to imagine you to get off when fucking my girlfriend. The only reason I even tried to fuck was to try and forget you and I couldn’t.” He could see she was shocked by that. “Flounce around in your pretty little outfits and are so sweet to me? Getting me gifts and noticing shit about me and it’s just... amazing. You’re so... amazing and it makes me insane.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “This is what you wanted? Isn’t it? Wanted me to go crazy over you?” He spoke against her skin, biting down a little bit.

Was Y/N dreaming? A few days ago he was doing his hardest to get her to stay away from him, convincing his girlfriend nothing was going on between them, and now here he was pressing her against the counter. Her eyes were blown wide, listening to him intently and watching his stare grow more and more intense. Y/N was already pooling I’m her panties just having him be so dominant, but him saying he couldn’t get hard unless he was thinking about her made her knees buckle. Her poor man, she’d be more than willing to help him. All she wanted was to treat him like a king. Just as she went to speak he started kissing at her neck, her head falling back to give him more space. 

“F—fuck, Harry..” She breathed, nails digging into the skin of his arm. “Should have just listened to me then.” Y/N remarked, “you could have had me bent over your desk everyday for weeks... was ready for you and you made me wait— you drove me crazy.”

“Maybe I should have.” He muttered. “I’ve been going out of my mind trying to be a nice guy. Trying to worry about other shit but you’d come flouncing in and lean over the desk with these tits out with a scone in hand.” He groaned. “Two weaknesses already, and you knew it.” He had been fucked after that kiss. Now he had gone and given in and it felt good to be telling her that he was going mad. Mad for her. He needed this. Needed her. “I’ve needed you, Y/N. Been so stubborn in not letting myself have you but you’re so perfect, baby. So, so perfect. I can tell that other men have treated you like shit and I can’t... fathom hurting you.” Another kiss to her neck before he went closer to her jaw. “I should have listened to you but I need to have you. I’ve been insane. I need it so badly.” His hand came up and collared her throat. Harry took a breath before he pulled her hair back from her face. “What can we do, hm? Can I make love to you, precious? Or do you want to fuck?” He didn’t care which one. He just knew he needed to have her. Soft or rough, he was a mess.

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, eyes fluttering shut at his words. She was floating, she swore it. She had full on dreams about this, about him caving in and finally giving into her and she was starting to think he’d never come around. A whimper left her as he collared her throat, lips parting to answer him. 

“Fuck— please, touch me... all over, want you everywhere, please.” She was begging, something she never did, but she really wanted this. Y/N wanted a passionate fuck, wanted to feel him deep, wanted to know what it was like to be loved up on by him. “Make love to me, Harry, please—“ 

Things started moving a lot quicker then. The wine was forgotten about, Y/N didn’t even realize Harry  had picked her up until suddenly they were moving into his bedroom. Her hand cupped his cheek, leaning in to finally kiss him the way she had been wanting to. He didn’t reject her this time, didn’t shove a finger in her mouth, he let her kiss him like she was searching for her last breath. Harry didn’t know where his mouth started and hers began but he knew he was loving it. She was perfect. Literal perfection for him. She was beautiful and witty, smart and driven, smelled so good and tasted sweet. He was a goner but this especially, solidified it all. His hand grabbed at her shirt to pull it over her head, needy to get to more skin. His mouth immediately began to kiss all over her; laying her down in her bed and pressing her into it as he finally found himself at her tits.

“So beautiful, baby. So perfect.” He nearly moaned as he wrapped his lips around her nipple, suckling a bit to get her worked up. It was satisfying his own needs and wants but Y/N was just as happy to have him doing this. His own shirt was tossed down to the ground and he could feel her clawing after her shoulders but he didn’t care.

“Harry...” She breathed out, a moan following shortly after. It felt amazing. To finally have him like this, it was overwhelming. Y/N’s whole body was reacting to every little touch, cheeks and chest already flushed with arousal. She had imagined this many times, not just having sex with Harry but having sex with a good man. Nothing turned a woman on more than feeling appreciated and properly loved on and that’s exactly what he was doing. She was unwinding with every kiss and suckle, “feels so good...” She whimpered, knowing he hadn’t even done anything yet. “I want you so bad— Harry.” The girl was already a mess, clawing at his shoulders and tugging at his hair. Once they got going she surely wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d be on his cock like crazy, he’d be begging her to stop, Y/N would worship this man.

“Gonna have me, baby. Don’t worry.” He wasn’t worried. Y/N was going to be writhing one pleasure. He didn’t have much patience for foreplay— that would be later. He had been holding this back for weeks now and needed to be inside of her pussy more than anything. “M’so sorry, baby. I’ll lick you out later I just... need to be inside of you so badly. So bad.” He promised, shoving his pants down off the bed as he settled between her thighs, rubbing the tip through her slit. “Fuck... so messy. Got so wet for me, baby. Can’t believe it.” He was shocked and pleased by it, his cock sliding through the folds easily. She was a mess still, breathing heavily as she whined. He wasn’t going to tease her too much though, because he couldn’t stand it either. His cock slid in and that was when he knew he never wanted another pussy again. Because in his 28 years, he had never felt something as tight, as wet, as hot as her cunt wrapped around him. Slowly sinking in, he let his mouth hover over hers. Both of them were nearly speechless with relief, her hands gripping him tight. When he got a bit deeper, he knew he had to be stretching. “M’sorry baby... know it hurts a little.” He whispered when she whined, squirming a bit. “Almost all the way. Gonna go slow right now. Your pussy’s so small.” He rubbed his nose against hers before kissing her again.

The second she felt his hard cock slide against her she knew she was gone for him. Y/N was a whining mess just from feeling how big he was, she knew she’d feel him for days after. It had been a while since she’s had anyone touch her like this and lord knows he’s the biggest she’d ever had. Y/N couldn’t even bring herself to speak, it was that good. Feeling herself stretch around him, feeling how well he was hitting all the right spots. She felt all floaty all over again. 

“O—Okay daddy—“

Everyone knew Y/N had daddy issues, she had mommy issues as well, so a daddy kink was expected. She hadn’t expected to bust it out so quickly with Harry but he felt so warm and nurturing, felt like she could trust him with her body and her heart. He emulated the word fully in her mind. Harry’s body shuddered, both at the name she said and the tightness. He was going to take care of her. He could see she was vulnerable and open with him, trusting him with everything. Her body, her heart, everything. He would take care of it. Of her. 

“Gonna break up with her for good.” He whispered into her ear. “Cause I need you. I need you so much, Y/N.” He couldn’t say love yet. This was still growing but he could see it heading that route if they were going to continue. Each thrust was heavenly. Once he had gotten all the way in, he was thrusting deep and slow. Getting to places he was sure no one else had, based off of her gasps and moans and how she would shake when he got particularly deep. “You’re so good. So beautiful, Y/N. Feel so fucking good around me.” He purred, hands holding the pillows above them as he got what he needed. “Been a temptress. Should have taken it when you offered first... but now, M’gonna keep taking it. You want me?”

Y/N has never felt like this before. He really meant it when he said he’d make love to her. He slipped so effortlessly inside of her and told her how beautiful she was, how he was going to break up with his girlfriend, how he needed her. The girl had never felt so appreciated in her life. She was used to rough dirty sex, was used to being called a whore and a slut, the sweetest name she’d been called during sex was baby. This? This felt so real and genuine. He was calling her by her name. Between that and the incredible angles he was hitting? Y/N felt like there was nothing better. Tears began to prick at her eyes, her stomach tightening as her orgasm approached.

“I want you so bad, daddy! I—I need you. Please— don’t ever stop!” Y/N was pleading, moaning loudly at the overwhelming pleasure he was causing her. It was true when they said sex was mostly a psychological thing. It was all about the headspace and how someone made you feel. Anyone could do those actions, but it’s the intent. It’s about the bond.

“Don’t wanna stop, baby. Promise.” He was kissing her cheeks as a few tears  slipped down her cheek. It was emotional. For sure they’d been tiptoeing for weeks now— he has anyways, and there was an obvious mutual attraction and he had been so nervous over it. Now that he was getting to have her the way they’ve both needed after, it was a huge relief. “My beautiful girl... feel so good. Never had anything like this before.” He whispered, keeping the pace slower and deep, her legs wrapped around his waist and getting him as deep as possible. It was truly a passionate affair and he knew that he was lucky to have this. To have her. Always her. “Gonna be mine, sweet girl? Be daddy’s girl?” He was speaking deep and low, knowing it was getting to her just as it was getting to him. “Be my baby? I want to keep you.” He promised. “Want you to be mine and this pussy, this mouth, every bit.” He nipped her bottom lip lovingly.

“Yeah, mhm, yeah..” Her moans were extremely erotic. “Yours— I’m yours, daddy, I’m all yours.” Y/N has no problem giving her all to him. She’d spent so long pining over him, getting to know him and flirting with him, hoping that he would see just how good they could be. For weeks she’d just wanted a smile from him, even maybe a hug. This? This was more than she could have asked for. She didn’t expect this when her father told her about this trip. At most she thought they’d be having hot needy primal sex, not deep passionate and emotional sex. It was incredible, definitely something she’d never experienced before. “I’m so close— I’m gonna cum for you, please let me cum for you daddy. Wanna make a mess all over your cock!” Y/N could feel herself getting closer to the edge, every thrust he gave pushing her even closer. Looking into his eyes was even more erotic, his eyes blown. Of course she wanted to keep kissing him but she wanted to be looking at him when she came.

“Yeah.. want you to. M’so close, angel. Gonna cum in you, yeah? Gonna make a mess inside of you and you’re gonna be mine. All mine.” He promised, going a little harder, a little faster. He could see what thrusts and angles drove her crazy. What she liked. Sure, sex was going to be hot and crazy later but Y/N deserves someone to make love to her and make her feel appreciated and cared for. Things Harry felt towards her. “Please cum for me, angel.” He cooed, smoothing hair out of her face as he got closer, his own cock twitching in need.

Y/N kept her eyes on him as she came, her voice getting caught in her throat. She has never felt so good before, the waves of pleasure spread through her and ultimately when it all settled down she wasn’t left feeling drained. Harry has made her feel so incredibly cared for, it felt like he loved her, but she knew that it could only get better. 

“Cum for me, daddy... make me feel so good, I wanna feel you fill me.” Y/N was speaking in a soft and gentle tone, combing through his hair and kissing at his jaw and neck as he thrusted into her at that quicker pace. It was perfect, seeing him and hearing him in that blissful state. Y/N would never let this man go. He was absolutely perfect. Her lips found his in a passionate kiss, slow and steady, but deep nonetheless. Y/N felt the urge to say that she loved him but that would be pushing it. She’d simply never felt like that before. Tears still trickled down her cheeks, small sniffles coming from her when she pulled away for air.

Harry came probably harder than he ever had. It just felt so good. So tight. Y/N, her words, her cunt, her mouth. The moment, too. All of it called to a deeper part of him he hadn’t truly experienced before and he loved it. Curses left him after he came, ribbons off cum pumping into her body. His legs shook as he filled her, kissing deeply as he did so. It was the best moment, he thinks. Sex hadn’t ever been this good. He’d had plenty of mundane sex, an orgasm being nice but this was the shit he understood. He got why people loved it. 

“Shhh, sweetheart. Why are you crying?” He questioned, not knowing if it was emotions or he had done something. He kept himself calm though, holding her face and wiping away the tears as they came. “Don’t need to cry. Was so good, wasn’t it?”

“Cause I—it felt so good.” Y/N whimpered out, smiling a bit as he went to hold her face. “So, so good.” She nuzzled against his hand, turning her head to press a long slow kiss to the palm of his hand. She sniffled, blinking away her tears so she could look at him. “Happy tears...” She told him, leaning up to press more kisses to his beautiful mouth. “Wanted you for such a long time and—“ Y/N let out a shaky breath, “made me feel so beautiful and loved...” She tested up again but closed her eyes before she could start crying. “Never... never felt like that before, felt so nice.” She told him, feeling herself start to calm down. Y/N was certainly sleeping in his bed tonight and they were going to sleep in tomorrow morning. They had time before his meeting at 5.

“Good.” His body felt fuzzy and warm and light and he was happy. Really happy for the first time in a long time. Y/N had the power and he had waited too long. He should have given in earlier. “That’s how I always want you to feel with me.” He gently shifted so he was on his side, laying next to her so she could curl up against him. “It felt so good to me too. Like... the best ever, if m’being honest.” He helped her dry her cheeks, feeling her lay her face on his chest. “You are so beautiful and so wanted. I know I did a shit job of showing that to you before but I decided that I’m gonna keep it going and make sure you know how much I care.” He took her little hand and held it in his, bringing her knuckles up and kissing each one. “You’re safe with me. M’not gonna hurt you. I’ll take care of you whenever you need me, yeah?” He wanted her to know and be aware she could come to him with anything. Maybe it was quick. It was. But he couldn’t help it.

Being around Harry has proven to bring Y/N comfort. Even resting her head against his chest and listening to his heart beat grounded her far more than she expected, he was becoming her safe space and safe haven. She wouldn’t let anyone ruin that for her. 

“You sure about that?” She asked, knowing full well that if he meant whenever he’d really never be alone anymore. It was only the second day of their vacation and they already cracked, the positive was that they had five more days together. She would take advantage of her time for sure. “Meant what I said, I really am all yours.” Her fingers traced over his tattoos. “I want to do all that I can to make you happy and give you the life you deserve... I know you’re worried about getting the job but I’m gonna let you in on a secret. My dad, he wants to retire within the next few years.. he’s looking for someone to inherit the company, it’s going to be you. He was already thinking of you before we met, but now? The job is yours.”

“You think so?” He questioned. His heart filled with hope. He could get Y/N and he could get the fucking company? That was the ultimate dream. Having someone like her at his side would be the most incredible thing. “That would be amazing. Having you... the job.” He whispered. “All I want. And Oliver, too.” He chuckled. “Still have to meet him. He’s going to love you. You’ll be the best of friends.” There was no doubt about that in his mind. “When I wake up, want you right next to me. Yeah? No wandering around.” He didn’t want to wake up and panic. Thinking it was all a dream. “The first time I wake up next to you is going to be amazing.”

“He’s been trying to set me up with one of these interns for years... none of them were nearly as good at their job as you and none of them came close to you looks wise..” She felt a smile coming on her face. “I knew the second I saw you.. you were going to be mine.” It had been a dream come true for her to actually find a decent guy, not even decent but perfect. “Like an angel sent from heaven you were.” The mention of the cat got her all excited. “Oliver!” She giggled, “I can’t wait to meet him... I’m gonna come over when we get back yeah? Want to see your place.” Y/N said with a happy smile, she knew for sure it would be extremely cozy and comfortable, not like her place... her place felt like a damn museum. She nuzzled her face into his neck, wrapping her whole body around his. She would be more than happy to wake up in bed with him next to her. She didn’t want this to ever go away, not anymore. Now that she had him she’d never let him go, she didn’t care who stopped her.

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[part 3]

A/N: OOOOOOO things are progressing... be ready for this next part hehe - n+d

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