#imagine if you will a nice rug. picture frames. a sofa you actually pick out

[newdayslinguine]

Idk bout yall but my fantasy is getting an unfurnished flat and living there multiple years and also buying olive oil

[howling-harpy]

The talk

Characters and Pairing: Welsh & Winters, mentioned Winters/Nixon Rating: G Word count: 4068 Summary: Talking about that (Loose lips sink ships prompt). Disclaimer:  This is a piece of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series, and means no disrespect.

[Read on Ao3]

*

It was Kitty who picked up on it on her own and then mentioned it in passing to Harry, assuming he already knew. They had been wasting away their Sunday just before the summer vacation when Kitty had suggested that they invite Dick and Lewis around for a couples’ evening of cards and cocktails, and the phrasing had given Harry a pause. “What do you mean a couples’ evening?” he had asked.

Kitty had rolled her eyes. “We’re obviously not going to call it that in front of our neighbors, but you get the point.”

Harry hadn’t gotten the point. “But you and me would be the only couple there.” Kitty had given him a long look, then put a hand on his knee and slowly started: “Darling…” “No. You’ve got it wrong.” “You really should have noticed. They were your friends first.” “Yeah, they are buddies – “ “Confirmed bachelor ‘buddies’ who have lived together at multiple addresses, who have endearments for each other and co-sign all their letters. Really, darling…” Suddenly Harry had found he wasn’t as sure of his position in this argument as when they had started. The four of them kept in touch regularly, and Kitty had read plenty of their letters too, and her points were all over those. “Oh…” Kitty nodded and clicked her tongue before laughing. “You’re so lucky that you’re cute.” That had launched into a deep conversation about Kitty’s attitude and how she had spotted it and why she wasn’t at all shocked (“I think it’s a little romantic, actually.”), and Harry had since put it out of his mind. They were in the middle of the last weeks of school before summer and Harry had a ton of work to do, and since Nix and Dick lived upstate, the issue was easy to forget. It came up again when the first week of summer vacation rolled about, the stress of work lifted and Harry remembered that he had promised to drive up to feed their dog for the weekend. Kitty hadn’t said anything much, just bid him goodbye and reminded him that they were his friends and that nothing needed to be different. Kitty didn’t have a problem with them, so why would Harry? That was just what Harry thought when he was sitting in his car and driving on the highway. He didn’t think he had a problem with it, but mainly because he still didn’t quite believe it. But why would he have a problem? They had been friends for more than ten years and everything had been fine. Nothing had changed. He arrived on Friday evening and found the house empty as it should be. He found the spare key hidden under one of the decorative rocks lining the flower beds and got inside, where an energetic mutt bounced up to greet him. Sally was a sandy brown mix of several hunting and herding dogs, a middle-sized ball of wiry excitement and love that both Nix and Dick valued like a child more than a dog. Harry didn’t mind looking after her every once in a while as she was a well-trained, friendly dog, and besides, Nix would take her with him whenever he could, and if he couldn’t there was always a good reason. Again, Harry didn’t mind: Nix and Dick had a nice home and their television was bigger than the one Harry and Kitty had, and it was always fun to meet the fellas when they came back from whatever out-of-town engagement they had and catch up face to face. But this time was slightly different. Harry fed and walked the dog just like Nix insisted (the instructions were meticulous. Harry would have just let her run around the yard but that didn’t suffice, apparently), and in the evening sat down in the living-room in front of the television. There was a film on, one he had already seen but that he had liked, and that should have been how his evening went down. Only, he was suddenly curious. If Kitty was right, he was in a house that was shared by two guys who were also lovers, but to Harry it seemed like any other normal home, one he had visited a hundred times by now. The movie kept him entertained only so long, the familiarity allowing his thoughts to wander and the temptation to grow. Sally slept on the carpet next to his feet, and somehow the sleeping dog was what allowed Harry to get up. The dog wasn’t going to tell on him in any case of course, but somehow he needed to be safe even from her eyes. Harry already knew the living-room and the kitchen downstairs, those were just normal parts of a home, but upstairs was different. Of course he knew where his friends’ bedrooms were, he had seen them go there dozens of times, but he had never been there alone. Upstairs there was a long corridor that led to several rooms. Harry knew the bathroom, but in the west wing there were two large rooms that were supposedly Dick’s and Nix’s separate rooms. The doors were closed now that neither man was home, but Harry’s need to know was greater than any obstacle. He went to Dick’s room first. It was more like a study than a bedroom, but that fit Dick somehow. His room had several bookshelves, a desk, a sofa bed and several framed pictures on the walls. It felt wrong to invade in the space uninvited, but Harry needed to know. The pictures on the walls were of Easy, and somehow that felt like the permission that Harry was looking for. It was an ordinary room, one where a hard-working bachelor could live. Something inside Harry’s chest calmed. He didn’t know what he had expected to find, but all this normalcy that fit his image of his friend was definitely not it. Now that he was in, he had to look around. Dick apparently chose to sleep on a narrow bed and brought his work home with him if the desk overflowing with paper was anything to go by. Harry chuckled to himself as he approached, careful not to disturb any pile of documents that he was sure were meticulously organized. Dick hadn’t ever enjoyed paperwork but it was a necessary evil of sorts, and Harry knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t ever half-ass a job either. There was a framed picture of his family on the desk, and Harry smiled when he saw it. Dick’s room was so normal that Harry felt a bit guilty having intruded. He hadn’t touched anything but still lined up the pens at the desk a little neater like he was subtly apologizing. He stepped out into the corridor and thought to go back downstairs to catch rest of the movie, but as soon as he closed the door he found himself staring at Nix’s door. Harry knew he should have been satisfied with what he had already seen, but the sight of another closed door made that doubt in the back of his mind come back, and he just couldn’t stand it. He had to know, whatever it was, and if the answer wasn’t in Dick’s room, logically it would have to be in Nix’s. Harry opened the door and stepped in. Nix’s room was completely different than Dick’s. Dick’s room was a study, a place that clearly doubled as a workspace where sleeping was almost like an afterthought, whereas Nix’s room was a luxuriously cosy, warm bedchamber. The hardwood floors had several thick rugs on it, the large bed took up most of the space and had thick comforters and several pillows on it, the wardrobe had four doors, and in the back wall there was a large dresser and a mirror. Harry chuckled to himself as he looked around in the room. He could easily imagine Nix there, lounging on the bed sideways without a care in the world. The dresser had a record player on top of it, and Harry chuckled again. He didn’t doubt that Nix needed all the closet space for his clothes, but he also apparently spent a lot of his free time there as well. He didn’t wonder about it, Nix had always been like a housecat with his comforts, always going for the softest beds, smoothest sheets, the best food and taking time for leisure. A spoiled rich kid indeed, and so different from both Harry or Dick, but a good sport about it. The room had only one window, a big one just above the head of the bed and it gave a view to the forest and fields outside the house. Harry was admiring the newly bloomed greenery outside when his eyes spotted the nightstands, one on each side of the bed. Both had lamps on them. The left one had an ashtray, two books and a forgotten coffee mug, and the right one had a pile of books, one open and face down on top of the others, next to them a pair of reading glasses, and by the lamp a small photograph in a silver frame. Harry already knew from the glasses, but he stepped closer anyway and picked up the photo frame. It was a poorly angled shot of Dick and Nix together, probably taken very creatively by one of them. In the picture they were at a beach with stark, round cliffs and a village in the background. Dick and Nix were both young and in uniform, but even Dick’s cap was crooked and his buttons loose, and they were both grinning, arms draped around each other’s shoulders and cheeks pressed against each other. Harry put the picture carefully back down on its place and went back downstairs. Saturday was a long, quiet summer day. It wasn’t that hot yet, but the sky was clear and everything outside was the colour of bright, fresh green and delicate in its newness. Harry took the dog out for a long walk and let her run through the fields and dig into ditches all she liked as he languidly followed her about.   He tried to inspect his feelings and figure out what he was supposed to do, but nothing came up. Whenever he tried to think about it, any of it – his two best friends, their lives, their photographs and their double bed – his mind simply refused, barren like a winter field. Mild evening rolled about, then the still cool night, and then the morning. By early Sunday afternoon, a car pulled into the driveway. Harry was fixing himself a sandwich in the kitchen when the front door opened. Sally sprang up from her spot on the rug in front of the fireplace and ran to the door to jump up and down around Dick, who tried to gently push the dog away with his suitcase. “Well hello there, girl, hello,” Dick said. Harry stepped out of the kitchen to greet him too and caught him in the middle of shaking his light spring jacket off while Sally nudged against his shins. Dick turned to smile at him. “Hello, Harry. How have you been?” he asked. Harry opened his mouth to say something but didn’t know what. He simply put his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I’m alright.” “That’s good,” Dick said. He hanged his coat, left the suitcase by the door and scratched Sally behind her ears. “I’m absolutely famished. I’m going to make something for lunch. Have you eaten?” He was already moving to the kitchen, and Harry backed in as well. “Just breakfast. I was actually making a snack just now.” “Well you finish that by all means, I don’t mind,” Dick said and went through the pantry and the fridge. “I’m not planning to make anything special either, maybe just something quick in the oven, vegetables maybe and something on the side…” “There’s still chicken left over.” “Oh, that’s good!” Harry finished making his sandwich while Dick got ready to roast potatoes and carrots in the oven and apparently planned on having canned beans and cold chicken on the side. “Wasn’t Nix supposed to come back with you?” Harry asked. “Yes, he was,” Dick said while peeling potatoes. “Plans changed. Blanche isn’t really well right now, and Nix didn’t want to leave her alone. He’s going to stay with her for the week and take her to her friend’s place for the next weekend.” “That’s good of him.” Dick threw him a smile over his shoulder. “Yeah, Nix can be a very caring brother when he decides to bring it.” He got a chopping board and started to chop the vegetables. “Was everything here alright?” “Yes, everything was totally fine. Sally’s been good. We’ve been on long walks since the weather is so nice,” Harry replied. Dick hummed in agreement. “It’s summer again. You must be excited about your vacation. Any plans with Kitty?” The mention of Kitty brought back the conversation that had started this all, and Harry felt dread in the bottom of his stomach. In the next moment he felt silly too, thinking back to that little photograph Dick had framed on his nightstand that definitely proved that whatever this was had started much longer ago than two weeks. Harry swallowed and approached carefully. “Yeah, actually. We talked about it a few weeks ago. She thought of inviting you and Nix over for cards and cocktails.” “Oh, that would be nice,” Dick mused. He put the chopped vegetables into an oven dish, then poured cooking oil, salt, pepper and rosemary on them. “Though we’ll have to leave cocktails for you and Kitty. Nix hasn’t taken a drink in seven months, and I’m afraid that I’m still me as well.” “Oh I’m sure that’ll be alright,” Harry said. This wasn’t the first time Nix had sworn off the drink, and if the past was any indicator he might as well be drinking again when they’d actually come over, but that wasn’t the part he was wondering about. He took a deep breath. “Kitty wanted to make it a couples’ thing.” Dick was drying his hands on a dish towel and as soon as Harry said ‘couples’ he froze for a moment, then slowly turned around and leaned his back on the counter. For a second Harry thought that Dick was going to deny it, to maybe laugh at the ridiculousness or even snap at him, but all there was on his face was the carefully guarded neutral mask of an expression that Harry placed in the context of unpleasant orders and incompetent officers. He returned Dick’s gaze. “She said that, huh?” Dick said. “Sure did.” Dick regarded him quietly for a beat. “That sounds very nice. Lew and I would love to join you,” he said in a colourless voice. Harry took a deep breath. “Jesus Christ. That’s how it is, isn’t it?” Dick squared his shoulders and quirked his brows. “Sure is.” Harry groaned and stared up to the ceiling. If he had been uncertain with his words before, now he was truly speechless. “What the hell?” he whispered to the kitchen lamp. “It is what it is,” Dick said, his voice steely. Harry lowered his gaze back at him and found his friend staring right at him with fierceness he rarely saw, and never directed at himself. Harry blinked. “How didn’t I ever…? How could I miss that?!” The line of Dick’s shoulder twitched in a tense shrug. “Well, in your defense it’s not like we keep much noise about us.” “Kitty knew!” Harry argued. Dick’s brows rose. “Is that what brought this subject up? She told you?” “No, she thought I knew!” “Well then,” Dick said, then actually chuckled dryly. “She owes Lew money.” “There was a bet?!” Dick smacked his lips and nodded. “Don’t take it too personally.” “That’s…!” He was going to say that that was too much to ask, and it was, but he was really getting off topic. This wasn’t about him. How dumb and blind he felt was secondary. He rubbed his forehead and tried to gather his thoughts. Dick crossed his arms and said nothing, either unwilling to help Harry with the subject or just allowing him the time he needed. Finally Harry let his hand drop. “How long?” Dick seemed to be taken aback by the question and didn’t answer right away. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and said: “I suppose it became a thing in Austria. Around those times, I think.” Harry had to rub at his face again. “Jesus Mary and Joseph. I was there! Right in front of me!” Dick grumbled under his breath. “Right in front of our superior officers and MPs too, so, again, discretion really was the key here – “   “That’s… That’s almost as long as Kitty and I,” Harry muttered. Dick clicked his tongue. “Lew and I have been in love for longer.” “How on Earth – “ “Since Toccoa.” “That is forever!” Harry cried out. “What the… All this time… What?” The bundle of Dick’s arms tightened even more. He pinched his mouth together and took a deep inhale before speaking up again: “Is this going to be a problem?” Harry paused. That wasn’t what he had expected at all, he was still too busy browsing through all of their war memories. “What?” Dick looked carefully neutral and repeated himself very slowly: “Is this. Going to be. A problem?” “Problem?” Harry said. “No. No, at least I don’t… I don’t think so. I just… I don’t…” He huffed impatiently, frustrated with himself, but couldn’t miss how Dick’s whole demeanour relaxed. “I just don’t understand,” Harry meekly admitted. Dick let his arms unfold and he turned to put his vegetable dish in the oven, then kicked the door shut with maybe more force than strictly necessary. “What’s there to get? It’s actually very simple.” “Nu-uh. Not for me,” Harry argued. “I’ve heard about this stuff, but I’ve never actually seen…”  He came to a halt and flushed. It wasn’t like he had seen Dick and Nix actually do anything like that. All he had seen them be was friends. Friends who shared a house. And a bed. He blushed awkwardly. It seemed that Dick knew exactly where his mind had wandered to because he pursed his lips and dropped his gaze to the floor. For a moment they were stuck in that uncomfortable silence, only the vegetables sizzling in the oven and Sally shifting at her place on the floor, flopping onto her left side. “It’s not really that big of a deal,” Dick said when the silence finally got too much. “I don’t know what you’ve heard or what you imagine, but most stories are just bogus anyway. How we are is just how we are.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he didn’t know what he was agreeing on. He had heard very few actual stories and those were dirty rumours back in the army, the kind that no one took seriously, but he had some sort of an idea about the men who got in bed with other men. Only, there were so few stories and Harry couldn’t remember ever actually hearing anyone talk about it generally, so he didn’t know where those ideas of his came from. “Yeah, alright,” he said after a moment, “just how you are, got it. But I guess I just… What I’m trying to ask is…” He still didn’t know and when he glanced at Dick, he saw him almost glaring at him and concluded that he was not about to help him. Harry got a feeling that this conversation was just as hard for Dick as it was for him, but he couldn’t tell if it was the subject itself in all of its intimacy, or was Harry making it worse. “Just… What happened to you? What went…” Wrong? That was what he meant, but it felt rude to say it to Dick’s face. Everything was out on the table and still Harry felt like they were dancing around some sort of a dirty secret. “…off the rails?” he finished, although he wasn’t at all sure that was any better than calling it wrong. This time Harry kept his eyes on Dick and didn’t shy away. Dick still had that unreadable neutrality about him paired with his rigid posture and hard gaze, and a crazy idea that Dick was afraid crossed Harry’s mind. He tried to shift his discomfort and confusion into kind concern. Dick took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back like warming up for exercise. “That’s… That’s not a really good way of looking at this,” he finally said. Harry fought against his frustration that threatened to raise its head again. “How so?” Dick huffed exasperatedly and his shoulders slumped. He was radiating some sort of anxious energy that was enough to make Sally get up from the floor and trot to him, sniffing around his knees worriedly. Dick hunched down to pet her reassuringly. “Because nothing really happened, as you put it. Nothing went ‘off the rails’. We didn’t go wrong; we went right along the path set out for us. We acted on our God-given nature and good things came out of it.” “Oh,” Harry said, feigning understanding even though he really didn’t understand. Dick seemed to sense it, because he straightened up to look at him again, now a strained smile in place of the guarded neutrality. “You probably didn’t mean to be rude, but you said some unkind things about us,” he said. “I get that this is quite a shock, and trust me when I say that we didn’t hide this from you because we wanted to play a joke on you. Lying to you, like lying to the rest of our friends and our families, has always been hard, but that’s how things must be. We are trying to survive.” He put such a strong emphasis on the word ‘survive’ that it threw Harry’s perception in a whole new direction. He could only imagine the amount of work and energy that went to keeping a secret like this and felt a heavy tug of sympathy, but the amount of work also just strengthened his earlier impression. “But if it’s so much work and worry, then why do you do it in the first place? There are so many easier paths, for both of you! And you could always be friends, no one’s saying you can’t,” he argued. Dick’s eyes were steely again. “Kitty crossed an ocean for you,” he said. “You engaged her for over a year and then brought her here. Would you two be satisfied if you had remained as simply friends? Maybe as pen-pals who might never meet again while you both married other people and had families with them?” That shut Harry up. Just the mere thought of settling for friendship with Kitty and letting her go was a painful pang in his chest and he felt a flare of strange pseudo-jealousy over his wife. He lowered his gaze to his feet and felt pieces clicking into place. Dick seemed to see that he had made his case. He let his arms finally unfold and pushed himself away from the counter to check on the dish in the oven, and then went to a cupboard to fetch himself a plate. He took the chicken out of the fridge and started to fix himself a plate. He kept his gaze down when he spoke up again. “I’m not mad about your questions, Harry. But I want you to understand that Lew and I are not some sort of a mistake or a dysfunction, we are a couple. We are together because we love each other.” Harry looked up again and saw a faint blush on Dick’s cheeks. Dick looked up and defying his apparent shyness around feelings said: “I love him.” The strangest thing was that Harry knew that already, he had always known. It was plain as day to anyone who took a single good look at Dick and Nix. “So… That’s a yes for the couples’ evening of cards?” Harry asked. A smile spread on Dick’s face and his eyes warmed up again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

[aqua-harry]

She’s Just Not That Into You » Part II (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the first part? Find it here.

Even if Nick did piss him off, Harry couldn’t help but be proud of his best friend whenever he was awarded opportunities. He worked hard, and it was nice to see that hard work pay off in the end. So, when Nick mentioned that you were having a viewing party for his appearance on The Big Fat Quiz of the Year, Harry feared that he wouldn’t be able to celebrate the milestone with him.

“Ask her,” he demanded one afternoon.

Nick laughed, his eyes widening at Harry’s insistence. After little pleading from his friend, Nick sent a text asking you if Harry could be his plus one for the dinner party. Once he’d sent it, Harry forced Nick to show him the text for proof, figuring that it was just like him to say he’d asked you when he didn’t, instead showing up to the party with Harry anyway, thinking it was funny to throw both of you for a loop. Nick’s phone dinged minutes later, your name lighting up the screen. Your response of “Sure.” had caused Harry to go into an existential crisis, the wrinkle in his brow deep as he pulled at his lips.

“She doesn’t want me there,” he grunted. “‘m not goin’.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harold,” Nick tried to console him, patting his head. “Go with me. I want you there, and ‘m sure she does, too.”

“Would’ve invited me in the first place if she did.”

“She’s not close with ye’,” Nick explained. “She would’ve invited you if she knew y’better, right? But she doesn’t. So I’m invitin’ ya, and I know she wants it to be everythin’ I want it to be. Even makin’ my favorite meal, so quit worryin’. You’re going.”

And, really, it wasn’t the blasé, one-word response that threw Harry off. It was the period at the end of it. So final, so complete. Sure. An exclamation point would’ve been appreciated, considering it was a party. Parties were supposed to be happy; they were supposed to be exciting, and the punctuation should match, if you asked Harry.

And yet, on the night of the party, he still picks up Nick, driving across town to your place, letting him talk his ear off while Harry focuses on the road. Hopefully, through his chatter, Nick doesn’t notice how nervous he is as he pulls at his lower lip. His oatmeal-colored sweater was appropriate, right? It was winter, after all. But Nick was wearing a typical button-up from Topman, paired with a leather jacket, and that made Harry feel bulky in his cable knit jumper. He should’ve known better - he should’ve worn that black shirt he had eyed after getting out of the shower. Stupidly, he thinks, he went for the sweater, worried that he might get cold throughout the evening and wish he’d gone for layers, rather than fashion.

“This is her building,” Nick says, breaking Harry from his self-deprecation. “Right here on the left.”

As the elevator rises higher and higher, Harry’s heart sinks further into his chest with every ding indicating that your floor was nearing. Pulling the cuffs of his sweater over his hands, he chuckles at Nick’s comment that he didn’t fully catch, his stomach dropping when the lift stops and the doors open.

“...think it’s probably more of a dog thing than a cat thing, but who knows?” Nick says over his shoulder while Harry follows him down the hallway, stopping in front of a door with a Christmas wreath hanging upon it. “How nice! She left the holiday wreath up for the cheeky viewing party!”

Harry clears his throat when Nick knocks on the door as he’s opening it, sing-songing his arrival through the laughter of the couple guests who had already arrived. It smells incredible, your apartment. A mixture of home and something else that he’d come to learn as your own unique scent wraps around Harry, and he instantly feels at ease. Following his friend’s suit, he kicks off his boots and lines them up neatly by the door, causing Nick to chuckle at his politeness.

“Always the gentleman,” he chortles, wrapping his arm around his best friend’s shoulders.

Harry chooses not to respond and instead lets himself be lead into the kitchen by Nick, where you’re carefully pulling a standing rib roast out of the oven like some sort of domestic goddess straight out of a housewares magazine.

“See?” Nick elbows Harry. “Told ye’ she can cook.”

Harry takes a second to eye your kitchen. He can appreciate how you’ve mixed the industrial feel of the appliances with the dark marble countertops, the white cabinetry bringing the room together in a way that he’d come to know as your personal style. You had a bowl of assorted fruit on the island, along with a bouquet of what looked like real flowers placed in the middle of the table that occupied the breakfast nook in the corner. He remembers reading about how you swapped counter clutter out for a simple bowl or vase when it came to your own kitchen, preferring to have your workspace clear for all of the cooking you did. It was in one of those articles that you had up on your website - one of the spreads that tried to get more personal than you were willing be - and he takes a second to remind himself not to mention how closely he’d been studying you over the holiday.

“Hi!” you grin, quickly pulling off your oven mitts and tossing them on the counter. “The man of the hour!”

“Didn’t ‘ave to go through all of this for lil ol’ me!”

“Oh, yes I did,” you laugh. “It’s not everyday one of your best friends is on the biggest show of the year!”

You kiss Nick on both cheeks, holding his face in between your palms. Harry looks on as you pull him in for a tight embrace, rubbing your fingers across the back of his neck and tucking your face into his shoulder. And, yeah, Harry will admit that it stings a little when all you do is grace your cheek against his and give a half-hug to greet him, instead of the obviously warm greeting you’d provided Nick.

“How was home?” you ask Harry. “End up getting Mum something special, then?”

He’s surprised, to say the least, that you remember whatever he was rambling about at Nick’s impromptu dinner party he’d met you at. He looks at you, your bare feet charming against the dark hardwood floors of your kitchen, your toenails painted a holiday red to match the mood. Your cheeks are a bit flushed, probably from the pressures of hosting, but you look refreshed and happy. Harry can’t help but want to kiss you, not only for remembering your previous conversation, but for looking so damn good in a simple pair of black jeans and a cream-colored blouse.

“Yeah,” he nods. “She loved it.”

“I’m glad,” you smirk, patting his shoulder before reverting your attention back to Nick.

Harry grumbles to himself in his head as he follows you and Nick, linked arms and all, into your living room. A pat on the shoulder? You might as well be wearing a chastity belt with a sign that read, “Anyone but Harry Styles!” in bold black letters pinned to your front. He hadn’t a chance with you - not a single one - so he might as well just give it up now. Throw in the towel and never look back.

When he enters the living room, three people he doesn’t know look up, including a clean-cut man who introduces himself as Cam. As he’s shaking everyone’s hand, he can’t help but notice the familiar scent of cinnamon enveloping the room. He scans the area until he spots it - a Diptyque candle lit in the center of your coffee table.

“You know about Diptyque?” he asks, not paying any mind to whatever conversations may have been going on around him. “They’re my favorite!”

“They’re the best,” you nod. “Can I get you something to drink? Stocked the bar…”

While you fix Nick and Harry their requested drinks - vodka soda for the older one and straight whiskey for the boy - Harry inspects your living room, noticing your vintage tour posters from the likes of Pink Floyd and the Eagles, tastefully framed and hanging on the largest wall of the room. He wondered if you just liked the look of the art or if you actually listened to the bands. Figuring you weren’t the type to choose something like a tour poster just for the aesthetic of it, he ponders your possible music tastes. The large bookcases that fit into the wall like they were made for it - were they? - house more books than Harry had ever seen in a home. A full set of encyclopedias, dictionaries, and every other periodical imaginable rests upon the shelves, and Harry enjoys picturing you delicately opening each atlas and planning on where to travel next. Humming, he sits down next to Nick on the plush velvet sofa that’s decorated with a bounty of throw pillows.

“Love the new rug,” Nick comments, running his sock-clad feet over the high-pile material. “Where’s the old one! Said I wanted it when you were bored of it.”

“I’ve got it,” Cam, the well-dressed man speaks up from his spot on one of two armchairs. “She gave it to me, mate.”

“Figures she’d give you her rug before I got a chance at it.”

Harry is immediately envious when the three of you - Cam, Nick, and yourself - erupt in laughter. He smiles, accepting his whiskey from you with a nod and a small thanks, keeping a keen eye on Cam.

He settles into the couch, observing and listening, smiling and nodding whenever the conversation called for it. Normally, he was the center of attention. Normally, people looked to him to keep the conversation going. Normally, he didn’t have to feel awkward about not exactly knowing anyone. But, tonight was different. It was about Nick, and even though Harry had met you and a handful of the other guests who hadn’t shown up yet, he didn’t want to outshine his best friend in his moment of glory.

And, maybe...maybe he didn’t want to say anything that would embarrass himself in front of you.

You seem to be the perfect host, putting out a charcuterie board with beautiful meats, cheeses, and chutneys to occupy the guests who continue to arrive - the final number totalling twelve, by Harry’s count. You have a propensity to please, sitting on the arms of the couches and armchairs instead of fully settling in, offering to refill everyone’s drinks without coming across as pushy. You stock the platter with more options whenever it was looking sparse, encouraging everyone to eat more, as eating a fancy meat and cheese plate by yourself would be too depressing to bear.

When you announce that dinner is ready, everyone begins to move to the dining room as you apologize for having to split up the party - you don’t have a table big enough to sit thirteen, so some guests will have to sit at the smaller breakfast nook in your kitchen while the majority of guests will be sat at the large dining table.

“Loo?” Harry whispers to Nick, and he points down the hallway in response. “Thanks. Be right back.”

He knocks on the door, frowning when he finds it occupied. He leans against the opposite wall, picking at his nails while he waits. You appear at the other side of the corridor, stopping abruptly in front of another doorway, gripping the wooden frame to pause and look at Harry in question.

“Occupied,” he smiles, pointing to the closed bathroom door.

“You can use the one in my bedroom,” you point in front of you.

“Oh,” Harry stutters, walking forward and then stopping himself. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod, beckoning him over. “Just in here to the right,” you indicate with your hand, stepping aside so he can enter the room.

He thanks you quietly, noticing as he closes the door that you leave the room to give him privacy. He takes his time scanning the small powder room, noticing how organized it is, with your toiletries lined up neatly and the hand towels folded perfectly. He smiles at the small Diptyque candle next to your hand cream, this one rose-scented instead of the cinnamon fragrance that was burning in your living room. When he washes his hands, he takes note of how soft the towels are and how lovely the soap smelled. He flicks off the light, stepping back into your bedroom, smelling the lingering aroma on his hands.

Before he heads back to the party, he walks into your room, inspecting the details of your life. Yet again, a candle is lit on your dresser - pomegranate, now - next to a small vase of fresh flowers. He’d seen fresh flowers in your living room and kitchen, as well. He wondered if you always had real bouquets around, or if you’d wanted them for the party. He hopes it’s the former as he pictures you walking into a small flower shop every Monday, excited as you pick out a new arrangement for the week, thanking the florist you were on a first-name basis with.

A small stack of books occupies your nightstand, causing Harry to smile at the thought of you not being able to decide which one to read first. A pair of glasses sits on top of them, and he questions what you look like with them on. Do you need them only to read, or do you wear contacts during the day, switching them out for your glasses at night? Your bed looks comfortable - too comfortable - and for a moment, Harry allows himself to imagine what it would be like waking up next to you under the delicate white linens, your warm body stretching out against his own while you convince him to stay under the covers for a bit longer...

Whiskey serving as his bravery, he steps further into your room and stands in front of the vast bookcases that were clearly custom-built. Matching the shelves in your living room - save for the white-washed wood instead of the deep cherry that was in the hub of your apartment - he smirks as he inspects the items you’d placed upon display with intent. Not only were the shelves filled with books of every size, color, and genre, you’d also integrated frames sporting pictures of you and your friends or family, along with other mementos from your life.

He looks over those frames, trying to get a feel of who was most important to you. It seems as though you had siblings - maybe a sister and a brother. There’s a picture of you and what looks to be a younger version of yourself on either side of a tall man who shares your smile, all in front of a Christmas tree. Had the picture been taken back in Devon? He hopes he’d eventually become close enough to you to find out who everyone in each picture was. Maybe even be featured in a couple, if he’s lucky enough.

“Like what you see?” your voice coming from behind startles him. Lightly grasping his chest, he turns around and hopes his skin doesn’t look too flushed. He’d been caught.

“Don’t think ‘ve ever seen so many books outside of a library before,” Harry saves himself, pointing towards the bookshelf as if he needed evidence. 

You speak briefly about your collection, knowing that it probably isn’t healthy to have so many books, especially when it was time to move. But, you’d said, they were a comfort. And you had read most of them. Some were there just because they were a good deal or they were gifted to you. You’d tried to get rid of some, you explained to Harry, but they had become an extension of your home - almost like they were a permanent fixture - so you’d kept them, regardless of how much space they took up.

“And you always have fresh flowers?” Harry inquires. “Or is it just for the party?”

“Always,” you smile. “Don’t think a room is complete without them, really. The florist down the way from my shop - his name’s Raul - he always gives me a good deal.”

Of course he does, Harry thinks to himself. Must have everyone under your spell.

“C’mon,” you motion your head towards the door. “Let’s get some meat on those bones.”

Dinner begins and Harry is unsurprised to find that everything is delicious. He’s sat at the larger table with Nick while you sit in the kitchen next to Cam. He’s almost thankful that he can’t see the two of you from his position, but every now and then, he’ll hear your distinct bubbly laughter which causes a pang in his chest. He’s not the one getting such a reaction out of you.

But did he even have the right to?

After dinner, once everyone is settled back into the living room to watch Nick on the television, you busy yourself with making tea and coffee for everyone. You pop up from your position on the couch during a commercial break, nearly running into the kitchen so you can quickly return to the party without missing any of the show.

“Need any help?” Harry peeks his head into the kitchen, endeared with how quickly you’re plating small pastries onto a ceramic tray.

“Yes!” you sigh, thankful for his offering. “Could you grab a spoon out of that drawer?” you point vaguely with your elbow, your hands preoccupied with petit fours.

He nods, opening the wrong drawer, hearing you audibly wince from behind him. You quickly wipe your hands on the tea towel next to you, placing soft hand on Harry’s shoulder while you reach to open the proper drawer.

“Now you know one of my dirty little secrets,” you smirk, winking at him as you pull a spoon from the cutlery drawer. “Everyone’s got one, yeah?”

He doesn’t know whether you’re talking about a dirty secret or the junk drawer, but he agrees anyway, as the only thing he’s able to properly focus on is how good you smell. You’d only been pressed up against him for a millisecond, but he’d give nearly anything to feel you that close once more.

It might be the drinks he’s consumed over the last couple of hours, or it may be your perfume completely mystifying him, or even all of the blood rushing to his crotch that he hopes to god you don’t notice, but Harry somehow gains enough courage to ask you - right then and there - to work with him on decorating his new house. Neglecting the fact that the house wasn’t even technically his yet, he blurts out the request, hoping that his broker is cinching the deal on the new property as he speaks.

“Sure, sure,” you nod, licking a bit of cream off of your thumb. “Call the store and Megan will take care of you. Set up an appointment and all that,” you slide past him and rifle through your junk drawer, which is less of a junk drawer and more of an organized catch-all. “Here’s my card.”

And while Harry is somewhat disappointed you didn’t give him your personal cell phone number, you’re professional, and he respects that. You’d had no indication that he was looking for something more than an interior designer, and if he’d learned anything during his time off, it was that he should take what he can get, in terms of most things.

Nick runs the rest of the evening, giving the party guests the play-by-play of what happened during commercial breaks. Harry’s proud of his friend - he can tell that he’s comfortable in this setting of people Harry has never met, which opens up another side of Nick he’d never seen before. A tasteful, more refined side, and Harry decides that it’s all because of you, whether that’s true or not.

Cam stands up almost immediately after the show is finished, announcing that he was in for a long day tomorrow. He shakes Nick’s hand and gives him a pat on the back before bidding goodbye to Harry. Harry sticks out his hand, noticing that Cam hadn’t offered his own first, and tells him that it was nice to meet him. The conventional man smiles and nods his head but doesn’t say anything in response - no, “You too, Harry.” or, “Likewise, mate.”

It ruffles Harry’s feathers a bit, although he’s not certain why.

He watches as you say goodbye to Cam on the outskirts of the party, but thanks to Nick’s boisterous cackling, he can’t hear the entire conversation. He does, however, catch Cam’s question of, “Still on for coffee tomorrow?” with a confirmation from you, followed by a kiss on the cheek and a tight squeeze, your head tucking into his shoulder.

With fully-ruffled plumes, Harry turns away from the intimate exchange and pretends to follow whatever topic the conversation had turned to. It’s a strange feeling for him - jealousy, was it? - and he’s not quite sure how to handle it. He certainly had no right to feel this way. No claim was made upon you by him, and you had definitely not staked one on him.

But, there was an undeniable pit in his stomach, indicating that he wanted that right. Harry wanted to be allowed to feel jealous. He wanted to be wary of every straight man within the tri-city area because he knew what a great catch you are and you were all his. He wanted to put his arm around your waist when he found others staring at you, wondering if they had a shot. He wanted to be the one to kiss you goodnight and confirm plans for coffee the next morning. He wanted to know whether your coffee order was contingent on the weather, or if you got the same drink year-round.

He wanted to be in Cam’s place, even if the man didn’t have the ability to be polite to someone he’d just met.

“Ready to go?” Nick asks him an hour later, after you’d begged them not to help you clean up, instead offering to make them another drink along with some light conversation.

“Yeah,” Harry nods. His desire to stay in your apartment any second longer had left as soon as he saw the way you laughed at whatever Cam had whispered in your ear.

And even though Harry had no right to be jealous - even though he barely even knew you, save for the glimpse into your world he received from looking at your bookshelves - he wanted to know you. He’d not felt anything resembling what he’d felt that night for, quite frankly, years.

As Nick thanks you for the party, giggly and clearly intoxicated, a book on the shelf next to Harry catches his eye. He thumbs the binding, tilting his head to read the title. A Little Life. He carefully removes the large novel, running his palm over the agonized face of the man on the cover.

“Have you read that?” you ask once Nick has successfully put his shoes on.

“No,” Harry shakes his head, looking up. “Been meaning to, though. My sister read it last year and wanted me to, but I never got around to it.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” you raise your eyebrows.

“One of hers, too,” he smiles, flipping through some of the pages. “Can I…”

He stops himself, not knowing if he knew you well enough to be borrowing your favorite books. But, then again, he was going to be seeing you a lot after he makes the appointment, so he looks up and gains momentum from your inquisitive smile.

“Would you mind if I borrowed it?”

“Of course,” you nod. “Just be sure to tell me what you think of it.”

His heart jumps in his chest with the certainty that yes, he will be seeing you again and yes, you will have something to talk about other than paint samples and cabinet finishes. He can hardly wait to get home and begin reading, picturing how excited you’ll look as you talk about your favorite parts in one of your most-loved books, maybe even over a cappuccino in a small cafe.

Tucking the book underneath his arm, he leads his best friend out of your apartment, waving goodbye to you with a knowing smile as Nick babbles on about one thing or another in slurred words, the alcohol he’d consumed making his accent thicker than usual.

“How well d’you know Cam?” Harry asks Nick as he drives away from your building.

“New friend,” he shrugs, tapping his fingers against the door.

“Mmm,” Harry gives a short nod.

“Why?” Nick hiccups.

“Wasn’t all that nice,” he shrugs.

“Nice t’me.”

“Well, she deserves someone who’s nice t’everyone,” Harry tries to mask his contention with a cough, running his index finger under his nose as he furrows his brow.

“‘arry,” Nick groans, running his hands down his face. “Ye’ really want ‘er that bad?”

“Why’re you yelling?” Harry avoids his best friend’s concentrated gaze as he turns a corner, speeding up as he drives down the less-crowded side street.

“Scale o’ one-to-ten.”

“‘m not gonna scale it.”

“Do it!”

“‘m not going to scale it,” Harry repeats, more forcefully this time. Sure, he introduced the two of you, but he had no right to demand such information out of him. Harry didn’t owe anything to Nick, regardless of how close the two of them were.

“Thought ye’ didn’t like ‘er.”

“I don’t,” the green-eyed driver frowns.

“Then why does it matter if Cam is nice to e’ryone or not?” Nick slurs.

“I don’t ‘av to like her to think she deserves t’be with someone nice.”

Nick’s quiet then, mulling over the thought of Harry concerning himself with the man you wind up with. Harry will be the first to admit that it looks suspicious - his want for you to be with someone respectful and kind - but even if he didn’t have a certain keenness for you, he would still want you to end up with a man who was pleasant on all accounts.

That’s just the kind of person Harry was.

“Issat why ye’ asked for th’ book?” Nick chortles, slapping his hand down on the center console. “‘Cause y’wanted t’ see ‘er again?”

“‘m gonna see her again without the book,” Harry clears his throat. “Made plans to meet with her for m’new house. Thinking she’s going to be th’ right fit.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Nick shakes his head. “Sure is gonna be th’ right fit.”

Harry makes a point of not saying much else for the rest of the drive, answering Nick with sounds and one-word answers rather than anything incriminating that he could use against him in the future. He shakes his head as he watches his friend fumble with the keys to his front door, waving wildly at him from the threshold while Harry drives away.

On the way back to his place, he replays the evening in his mind, wondering if he should’ve done anything differently. It had ended well, save for the exchange between you and Cam. What had he said that made you laugh so beautifully? Would Harry ever be able to elicit such a sound from you? He wonders, with a wrinkle in between his eyebrows, if he should’ve been more charming - he should’ve made more jokes, he should’ve been more insistent on helping you clean up the mess from dinner...he shouldn’t have snooped.

His house is dark when he arrives, the lack of light only magnifying how empty it was; how very much alone he was. He fantasized about how easy it would be to come home to you, lounging on his couch and telling him that you’d saved some dinner for him. He’d kiss the top of your head before walking into the kitchen, shouting to you over his shoulder, questioning about how your day had gone.

As he gets ready for bed, Harry recalls the hug you gave him goodbye, reminding him to call your office to set up an appointment. He memorized the way your cheek felt against his and how you squeezed his bicep before stepping away.

He could tell, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d already become addicted to that feeling. That want. That need. And he was looking forward to getting to know it very, very well.

[yevabog-blog]

How To make a Shabby Stylish Kitchen area

Shabby chic kitchens are actually One of the more sought-immediately after kitchen styles, in the modern planet; specifically in state Qualities. Nevertheless It's not at all by any implies a completely new glance as it originally advanced from the mid-twentieth century, when it grew to become a preferred system of creating an appropriate and charming technique for decorating as dollars was tight soon after the 2nd entire world war.

The critical element that conjures up the shabby chic appear is actually a timeless class the place home furniture does not have to match, just so long as all your items have an inviting, somewhat worn glimpse, and are closely associated in colour or tone. Genuine shabby stylish as part of your kitchen should really replicate the grace and beauty of the bygone period, when existence was simpler and entirely much more pure.

Shabby stylish kitchen designs are characterised by a rural design Bestblenderreviewguide ease and comfort coupled with previous globe whimsy. The décor, which can be Ordinarily based all around white, off-white or extremely pale unobtrusive colours for example tender greens, pale blues, pale yellows or muted beiges, need to seem easy and absolutely uncontrived.

Ahead of placing about generating this nicely-cherished design and style take a good search spherical your kitchen and take into account the existing style regarding wall colours, cupboards, appliances, do the job surfaces and in some cases cookware. Also acquire Take note of the size and layout of your area to find out when there is adequate flooring Place to accommodate supplemental items or the mandatory wall Place for additional cabinets or cabinets. Otherwise, commence thinking about how you can transform The existing seem to realize a far more rustic really feel. Freshly painted walls and specific paint outcomes on furniture, together with the ideal accent items can help alter the total glimpse your kitchen.

In the leading most kitchen partitions are ideal painted in basic or lightly toned white to maximise the quantity of mild, nevertheless for something a little bit more uncommon you could also consider portray your walls within a pattern of wide pastel and white stripes. If having said that you prefer wallpaper, to produce your kitchen seem far more homely, it's best to select a muted floral sample, Particularly roses or very small bunches of daisies or overlook-me-nots.

Do bear in mind while that endearing as old fashioned wallpaper can search it must not even be considered if your kitchen doesn't have correct air flow to prevent it getting extremely steamed-up when cooking; in any other case you will quickly be re-papering!

Concrete, grotesquely tiled or tacky linoleum floors are a complete anathema into the shabby chic kitchen area style so they will have to be replaced with one thing more In step with your new comfortable and normal appear. This obviously can be quite a key and pricey enterprise, so if you don't need to totally change your kitchen flooring you may just insert lots kitchen area mats or rugs in muted pink, blue, green, or floral models; just make sure to pick hues that complement your walls and current flooring.

Simple picket floorboards can be presented a different lease of life by currently being sanded and varnished to forestall splinters in bare toes! They can even be stained within a 'organic' wood colour but be mindful that you don't go too darkish and make you kitchen area feel grim and gloomy. Very pale wood can be stenciled in a fascinating design in advance of varnishing, but do make sure the look ties in along with your existing colour scheme. A clever flooring style may very well be used to emphasise a special feature for example an old sofa, a favorite rocking horse or a freestanding butcher's block.

Kitchen area home furniture and cupboards might be decorated in numerous enjoyable paint finishes, which is then distressed in different levels dependant upon just how truly 'shabby' you need your kitchen to appear. If You aren't confident ways to go concerning the distressing course of action merely dial up 'The best way to Paint Shabby Chic Furniture' on the internet and you will see a lot of data and perhaps video clips on Youtube.com that protect the subject in depth.

To prevent an overly modern day look you should often change any recent hardware on kitchen cabinets and door household furniture with one thing additional proper, which include glass or classic ceramic knobs; that can in fact glimpse so much more genuine. It is possible to often locate precisely what you may need on eBay or you could check out scouting round some of the much more trustworthy making reclamation yards. Sometimes it is actually worth getting old cupboards or doorways only to lay assert to stunning or unique door and cabinet accessories.

If the current kitchen appliances don't glimpse remotely proper inside your new kitchen area, you might have them repainted to match all the things else, as Fortuitously corporations do exist that may repaint appliances. Alternatively, if you'd like to change the appliances altogether, Additionally, there are companies that market retro type appliances.

Do not forget to provide your kitchen area a light and airy window remedy. Curtains, rather than blinds, are a superb approach to emphasise the shabby stylish search especially dainty floral prints, held in place with antique tie-backs. For just a cleaner, unfussy seem you can also use cotton nets slung about pine poles or simply pure lace, draped across just fifty percent the window.

Remember that one of several joys of shabby chic style is the fact that it utilises a lot less than excellent parts, so do check out jumble product sales, garage profits and in many cases skips for discarded merchandise. Some other person's rubbish may be the ideal Show piece for your shabby stylish kitchen area. A tart-up with a reasonably paint complete or some floral materials can provide new everyday living to quite a few a neglected treasure.

The ideal accessories will merely 'make' your shabby chic kitchen so these ought to be preferred and put very cautiously to provide the best impact. This phase of achieving the shabby chic glimpse is very like planting a rustic garden, in around it should really all look solely organic and like it's just occurred accidentally.

Even so as any skilled gardener will inform you it will take quite a bit of forethought and intending to make just the ideal uncontrived glimpse. Exactly the same will implement for your kitchen but, being careful not to about-muddle Performing House or surfaces, you can certainly establish the shabby stylish come to feel by simply making use of a little bit imagination, time and effort and the In addition it will never cost you a fortune.

Some definitely excellent additions for your kitchen area can consist of distressed corner shelves for previous battered recipe books, Victorian chamber pots for vegetation, early spice racks, embroidered hand-towels and homespun linen on wrought iron hooks, perfectly-worn oven gloves, 1950's tin canister sets and cookie cutters, granny's wash board, sepia framed pictures, Imperial kitchen area scales, a rose patterned china tea service, classic picket packing containers and serving bowls, outdated baking trays, copper pans, fish kettles not to mention heaps and plenty of fresh bouquets.

Last but not least do remember that the real shabby stylish seem is simply reached by remaining understated, this means you need not have each and every item with your kitchen area distressed, skip-matched or floral. Often considerably less is certainly far more and It's also vital that your very own temperament arrives into play to create your aspiration kitchen area specially Unique and exceptional to you personally.