#k I’m gonna go take a nap now byeeee

[ttuesday]

Behind the Saloon

Note: I am by no means a writer but goddamn I have been so horny for the rat man lately I had to do this for myself 

Quick Summary: Micah face fucks you💕 ...that’s it

(NSFW obviously)

You both knew this was going to happen eventually, it was just a matter of time. The constant bickering the two of you took part in somehow changed from angrily snapping at one another to flirting.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you did find Micah attractive. Maybe it was his eyes or his never brushed hair, or perhaps even his voice. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was about him that got you so hot and bothered. You tried to convince yourself for weeks that you didn’t have the hots for him but now there was no denying it.

Jealousy built in your gut as a working girl went over to the table Micah sat at with Bill and Dutch. You had all been out on a job when Dutch spontaneously decided that you should all go to the local saloon before heading back to camp.

You knew the only reason Dutch suggested it was because he had been fighting with Molly all day but the fellas were excited about the prospects of the saloon. You had been talking to Lenny and John when you noticed her saunter over to their table. Micah began eyeing her up immediately as Dutch tried to charm the woman. Bill sat there as bored as could be.

Your grip around your beer bottle tightened as you watched them. Before you could comprehend what it was you were doing, you had already started to walk over. “Fellas,” you smiled “another round?”.

“I’ll pay” offered Dutch, rising from his seat. He turned to the working girl “Miss, may I have the pleasure of buying you a drink?”. She giggled and followed him to the bar.

You stayed standing, resting one of your hands on the back of a chair. “Awh, don’t have enough money for her?” you said in a mockingly sympathetic voice to Micah. The man scowled “Don’t you worry doll, I got plenty of cash”.

“Sure you do” you replied sarcastically. With a huff, Micah stood and stalked off towards the back of the saloon. Bill opened his mouth to start some small talk with you but you interrupted him “Give me a minute”. 

You walked off in the direction you last saw Micah, not quite done with him yet. Half guessing which way he could’ve went, you opened a door that led you to the calm night outside the back of the building.

There was only one person out there, smoking a cigarette with his brow creased in annoyance. He was looking out at the empty landscape, not noticing you. “Thought I could smell desperation out here” you said, making him aware of your presence. You closed the door behind you, trapping the loud talking of the drunks and music that wafted from the piano inside the saloon. Now it was just you and him. 

“You best watch that mouth of yours” he snapped, smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke. Micah thought for a moment before flicking his cigarette to the ground. He turned to you with a smirk “Seeing me looking at another woman must’ve really gotten under your skin”. You scoffed “You wish”.

“Come on, doll. It’s alright to be jealous” he taunted. “I ain’t jealous!” you protested. Micah looked you up and down before stepping towards the door “Well then, guess I’ll go in there and get myself-“. 

“Wait” you cut him off, side-stepping in front of the man. With a smug smile on his face, Micah rested his hands on your waist “There a problem?”. You looked up at him, pouting slightly.

Micah chuckled as he dipped his head down and captured your lips in a kiss. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave him the courage to do it or maybe your jealousy really was that obvious. Either way, you didn’t care. He was kissing you now and that’s a win in your books. You couldn’t help yourself as you instantly kissed him back, your hands going to the back of his head and intertwining with his hair. Micah tightened his hold on your waist as he stepped forward again, forcing you to step backwards.

You only stopped when the wall of the saloon was against your back. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue along your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. It was exactly how you imagined kissing Micah. He was possessive, his hands trailing all over your body. He was in control and he wanted you to know that. Yet you wanted more.

You brought one of your hands down from his hair and to his chest. Using the wall to push off from, you forced Micah to step backwards. It was only momentarily as you turned, lips still attached to his, and pushed him against the wall.

You could feel him smirk into the kiss, curious as to what exactly you were up to. You gently moved your hands down until they reached his gun belt. Micah broke the kiss. “Someone’s eager” he commented. “Don’t you want me to?” you asked, concerned you may have tried to take things too far too soon. 

“Oh it’s fine by me, darlin” he assured you. One of Micah’s hands trailed up your back before settling on your head. With slight pressure, he guided you down to kneel before him.

As you got comfortable on the ground, trying not to kneel directly on any jagged rocks, Micah removed his hand from your head and took off his gun belt, placing it on a nearby barrel.

Once he was ready, you began to undo the buttons on his pants, going painfully slow just to annoy him. Nothing wrong with teasing him a little bit. You weren’t surprised when his cock sprung out as he shuffled his stained pants around his hips.

Micah never seemed like the kind of man that would have underwear on. You didn’t realize Micah had such a hard-on just from kissing. It gave you a strange sense of accomplishment. You moved your head closer while maintaining eye contact with him and smeared his pre-cum across your lips. Micah’s mouth was slightly open, entranced by the sight of you in this position. 

Placing his hand on the back of your head, Micah guided his cock into your awaiting mouth and towards the back of your throat. Still testing the waters, he slowly slid his length back out to the entrance of your mouth. You started to think that maybe he wasn’t going to be as rough as you anticipated. Maybe you had built up what this would be like for so long that-

You couldn’t even finish that sentence as Micah thrust his hips forward, pushing his cock down your throat. You gagged, your mouth full with his girth. Micah tightened his hold on your head as he watched his entire length disappeared into your mouth. Your eyes watered at the feeling of near suffocation.

“That’s it,” he cooed “ain’t you a good whore, taking my cock like that”. Your jaw started to ache as his cock moved in and out of your mouth, always going as far as he could with every thrust. You could feel the heat growing between your legs, your need for another hole to be filled.

Micah began to forcefully fuck your face, a smirk tugging at his lips every time you gagged. He became more undone as he watched his cock slip deep inside your mouth, his breathing becoming more erratic by the second. Tears ran down your face as some spit dribbled out the side of your mouth.

“Oh what a mess you look right now” he chuckled, bringing his cock back out just to thrust it deeply inside again. “You been wanting this for some time now, huh?” he asked in the same mocking manner you spoke to him with in the saloon “You been needing my cock?”.

Micah changed his tight grip, using both of his hands to gather your hair and keep it away from your face. He stopped talking and clenched his jaw in an attempt to stop any moans or grunts escaping.

Your knees were getting sore from the uneven gravel beneath you but the watery sight of Micah completely losing himself almost made it worth it. “So tight” he muttered to himself.

Keeping his firm grip, Micah picked up the pace and roughly fucked your mouth for a few seconds, his hips snapping back and forth. He was completely transfixed on your face and how well you took his length. 

Even if a drunk did stumble out of the saloon now, you weren’t convinced Micah would notice their presence. You rested your hands on his thighs in the hopes that would give you some support. “You like this, huh?” he growled, nearing his high “You like me using you like this? Such a pretty face… a mess, but still pretty”. Micah was unable to suppress a groan. “Doll, I’m gonna-“ he interrupted himself with another groan.

You brought one of your hands up to the base of his shaft, signalling that you were ready. Within a couple of seconds, you began to feel Micah’s hot seed spill into your mouth. He pushed your head closer to him so that his whole length was inside your mouth once more, his balls pressed against your chin. He held you there as he came, muttering curse words under his breath and only easing his cock back out when he had finished.

Micah let go of your head and you were finally able to breath properly. A mix of spit and his load escaped your mouth and went down your face. Micah leaned back against the wall, catching his breath.

You cleaned your face as best you could with a spare handkerchief Hosea let you borrow a few days ago… though you doubted he would ever want it back now.

As you stood, your knees still sore from the ground, Micah tucked himself away and quickly looped his gun belt back around his pants. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised” he said “always knew you’d put that mouth of yours to good work”.

You scoffed, opening your mouth to insult him when he grabbed the collar of your shirt and yanked you nearer to him. You were surprised when he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. “You’re gonna have to leave me repay the favour, doll” he spoke directly against your lips. “Well since you’ve got plenty of cash, how’s about we rent a room for the night?” you suggested. “I like your thinking,” he agreed “now c’mon, best we get back in there before they miss us too much”.

You nodded and opened the door to the saloon, ready to go back in as if nothing had happened. As he followed you inside, he gave your ass a quick slap. “Micah!” you snapped at him, feigning annoyance. Micah did his signature low chuckle and closed the door behind him.

[ficbynic]

T A K E   C A R E  -  Chapter 9 - North Hampstead

Are you still sure you don't need the ride tonight?

I am, it's fine, I could use some fresh air. I'll be there at around 7:30 if that's okay?

Great! I just got home. By the way, the code to open the gate is 1-9-7-3-5-5. Then it beeps. Then it's 0-1-0-2-0-3.

Alright, thanks

See you tonight .x

Story page (Catch up!) | Author | Talk to me | Read on Tumblr only.

Monday evening, a quarter to seven. After what seemed like an eternity, Emilie's day had finally come to an end. It was Emilie's first day taking care of Charlotte as well as Denise full-time, since Denise was out of school because of her half term holiday, and it had been a wild ride to say the least. By eleven in the morning, Emilie was already exhausted. It was only today that she realised that having Denise around cost way more effort than having only Charlie. Charlie was quite independent and loved playing alone with her dollies or her puzzles or her miniature buggy, running around the room. Denise, however, needed every ounce of attention she could possibly get. Not five minutes had passed without Denise needing help, asking for something, complaining about something, or simply demanding Emilie should participate, and frankly, it tore Emilie down. It felt like instead of a day, a week had passed when Emilie got the girls out of bath in the evening, and Catherine came home from work. For a change, David was there, as well, arriving home just a few minutes later. They probably could sense that Emilie had a rough day and she wasn't in the best of moods, but Emilie didn't care. If anything, it gave her a valid reason to leave the main house ASAP and relax in the privacy of her own space after a long, draining day. Coincidentally, Harry just texted her the minute she arrived back in her room, asking her if she'd already survived her first full day of having both girls around all day long. When Emilie replied she just got back to her room, her phone suddenly starting ringing, indicating Harry's incoming call. Emilie kicked off her boots and let herself fall down on her comfortable bed in her semi dark room, not even having the energy to put on all the lights, as she talked to Harry over the phone for a while before the conversation took a random turn. "How much do you get a week?" "One hundred Pounds," Emilie answered. "What?" "What?" "You work twelve hours a day! Five days a week!" "Yeah, well, eleven, mostly. With a break when Charlie's sleeping, normally. But, yeah." "For just a hundred Pounds a week!" This wasn't Harry being a snobby millionaire who wouldn't get out of bed for that amount of money. This was just Harry being reasonable, knowing what minimum wage would be and realising Emilie wasn't getting anywhere near. She was probably getting less than two Pounds an hour. "It's not that bad! I'm an au pair, it's not a proper job, I work in exchange for a place to live. What they give me is pocket money I could spend on the weekends." "But-" "It's not unusual for au pairs to get this kind of money," Emilie chuckled, "It's actually the average weekly pay. Besides, David and Catherine are quite generous. Whenever I have to babysit in the evenings or, you know, help them out on the weekends, they give me more. I can use their Oyster card if they don't need it, as well. It's not too bad." "Still. You work very hard," Harry stated. "Well, I am this week." Emilie was referring to the fact she had to take full care of Denise now, as well. "You are every week." "Yeah, but I knew I wasn't gonna make any cash of this. Me coming here was never about working to earn money. It was about getting away, trying new things, getting out of my comfort zone. And getting to know a new city, a new culture, new people..."       "So what time do you think I could pick you up tomorrow evening?" Harry then asked. "Pick me up? I thought we were having dinner at your house?" They'd texted earlier in the day to set up a time. Tomorrow evening was the only night that worked for the both of them if they wanted to see each other before the weekend. "We are, but it's quite the walk, isn't it? Especially after a long day's work." "It's barely fifteen minutes," Emilie laughed. More than anything, she was used to walking long distances now. Since she'd been in London, she'd never walked this much in her life. Her daily routine included the walk from the house to Denny's school and back, then often from the house to a nearby play group, then back to Denny's school and back to the house, not mentioning the occasional trips to nearby shops or playgrounds. On a daily basis, she'd walk for hours, pushing a heavy stroller, as well. Not even considering that compared to her home country Denmark, London was hilly as hell. Before she arrived, she wasn't expecting to be surrounded by hills and rising ground everywhere she went. "It's more like twenty. A little over twenty when I checked the other night." Emilie knew he meant last Saturday when he had to walk all the way back after they went out in Golders Green. "About that..." she started, not sure if she was going to regret bringing it up later, "I wasn't anywhere near drunk Saturday night..." Harry paused before he answered, sounding as if he sported a puzzled look on his face. "I knew you weren't." "Good. Because the text I sent-" "Oh!" Harry then began to laugh. "You didn't mean to send it to me, did ya?" "Not exactly, no," Emilie admitted, smiling. "I know you didn't. I was just messing with you." Emilie sighed and groaned in frustration. "The funniest part was that you didn't even bother sending anything back after I replied." "I... I didn't know what to say, I-" Harry's laughter interrupted her. "Glad to know you find it hilarious." "So what did you and the girls do all day?" he changed the subject, "Did you manage to keep them busy?" "Can we not talk about my day, I want to forget it all," Emilie replied, switching positions in bed, burying her face into her pillow. "Was it that bad?" "I'm just so... fucking... tired." "Then go to sleep, who cares if it's only seven o'clock. I bet you'll sleep through the night." "That might not even be a bad idea," Emilie thought out loud. She wasn't able to remember the last time she went to bed early-early. "Alright, I will let you go now, then." "Why were you calling me anyway?" Emilie stopped him from ending the phone call, "Don't you have a big show to prepare for?" "I just... I thought I'd check up on you. See if you survived today," Harry spoke. "That's kind of you." A few more minutes of talking went by. Emilie could tell Harry was making his way around the place, entering and leaving different rooms, the sounds of his surroundings altering every other while. They talked some more about the show tonight and seeing each other again tomorrow, before the call eventually came to an end. "You go get some sleep," Harry said. "Alright, I'll try. Have fun tonight." "Thanks. And thanks for calling." "You called me, Harry." "Right. Thanks for... Thanks for talking, 't was nice." Emilie frowned, suddenly hearing a bunch of people speak up again in the background. It seemed like he was in a crowded room, perhaps being watched and overheard while he was on the phone. "Alright." "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Harry sounded again, the tone of his voice indicating that he was smiling. "Yeah." "I'll text or call ya." "Alright." "Bye, sleep well." "Okay, bye, have fun." "Byeeee." Wondering whom Harry was currently with and if they caught anything of the phone call he just ended, Emilie got up from bed, rubbing her eyes as she was getting used to the lighting after stepping into her brightly illuminated en-suite. It felt weird to get ready for bed when Harry was getting ready to perform in front of thousands of his fans. But still, Emilie did, getting comfy in het pyjamas after taking a shower and eventually falling asleep before Harry's show had even ended. ~~  On Tuesday, Emilie set up a play date with a girl from Denise's class and her little brother, who was just a tad older than Charlotte. They stayed at their house for most part of the morning and the kids were enjoying themselves. More importantly, Emilie was enjoying herself; talking to the kids' nanny she'd gotten to know from waiting around Denise's school every morning and afternoon, and having cups of tea while watching the children play independently. After lunch and after Charlie finished her midday nap, Emilie could already sense that Denise required a lot of attention again. Because Emilie was desperate to have a bit of time to herself and simply couldn't handle a repetition of the day before, she allowed the TV for the afternoon. Denny and Charlie were ecstatic because they didn't get to watch telly that often, and were behaving well, sitting on the sofa snacking on pieces of apple Emilie had given them, watching the screen attentively. After half an hour, Charlie lost interest and made her way to the front room to play with her Peppa Pig characters, but at least Denise was still occupied watching Madagscar 3: Europe's Most Wanted, quietly sitting on the sofa. It gave Emilie the perfect opportunity to check her phone before she had to focus on preparing the girls' tea. She messaged home, and went to check what Tilda had been up to today. They hadn't spoken since Sunday. It was around the same time when Harry texted. Are you still sure you don't need the ride tonight? I am, it's fine, I could use some fresh air. I'll be there at around 7:30 if that's okay? Great! I just got home. By the way, the code to open the gate is 1-9-7-3-5-5. Then it beeps. Then it's 0-1-0-2-0-3. Alright, thanks See you tonight .x An hour or two later, Emilie let out a sigh when she all of a sudden realised she was getting a bit nervous. In general, she felt fine; more excited than anxious to see Harry again, but when she thought too much about what was all happening right now... Harry Styles gave the code to the gate to his house, for her to use to enter. They were going to have dinner together tonight. It was like a proper date. "I'm actually almost done," Denise meanwhile commented dramatically, her little eyebrows raised and her London accent thick. She was referring to the nearly empty plate of foot sitting in front of her, before comparing it to someone else's. "Emilie, look, Charlotte's not even eating!" The four year old was correct. Her little sister was sitting in her high chair, mostly playing with her food instead of bringing it up to her mouth to eat. "Charlie, don't make such a mess, please," Emilie warned, watching the little toddler using her little plastic knife and fork only to move the food around on her plate. She could be quite fussy during dinner, always leaving her vegetables untouched. Carbs were fine, though. Charlotte loved her pasta and potatoes. Now, however, she didn't seem to feel like having dinner at all. "There's only yoghurt for dessert if you girls finish your plates." Charlotte wasn't having it, though. She seemed to be in a bad mood, frowning her brows, her lips a tight line. Emilie moved her seat towards Charlotte's high chair to help her eat, bringing the fork up to Charlotte's mouth. The first bite went alright, but when the second came, she moved her little arm up and swatted the fork away from her face. "Charlie, no!" The risotto Emilie prepared because Denise specifically asked for it went flying, ending up on the floor beside the dining table. "We don't throw our food on the floor!" Emilie raised her voice. It actually really pissed her off. She'd spent a lot of time preparing dinner; she wasn't going to let it go to waste by a moody toddler. Charlotte looked up and understood she was being told off, but didn't seem that impressed by Emilie's harsh tone. Instead, she was still furrowing her brows, bringing her hands up to her eyes to rub them. Emilie tried to calm herself down again, reminding herself that Charlie was just tired. After all, she was just as unfamiliar with having Denise around all day as Emilie was herself. ~~ Catherine was home by a quarter to seven. Emilie had the girls ready and downstairs by six-thirty, in case either Catherine or David was home relatively early. She was glad she mentioned to Harry she wasn't going to be at his before seven-thirty, so she bought herself some time. "Have you already eaten, Emilie?" Catherine asked, fumbling in some drawers in the kitchen, probably searching for something to prepare to eat. "No, actually, I am going out for dinner in a bit," Emilie sort of lied, the words leaving her before she thought twice about them. She'd realised before that using the English language, it seemed easier to be a bit of a fibber. Maybe it was just easier to tell little white lies while not speaking your mother tongue. "I'm meeting up with Tilda," she then fully lied, again not knowing why she was bothering. She could easily tell Catherine she was just going to have an early night in her room, but something about telling her that felt wrong, as well. "That's fun," Catherine replied, "You're free to leave, don't feel like you should wait around." Emilie awkwardly got up from her seat at the dining table and made use of Catherine's offer. She said bye to the girls, Charlotte looking a bit bemused, normally having gone upstairs already before Emilie left the house. "See you tomorrow, girls," she waved, "Bye Charlie!" "Bye-bye," Charlotte then smiled and Emilie's heart grew twice in size as she grabbed her coat, fished her keys out of the pocket of it and exited the house using the front door. It was crazy how that little girl could get into her hair and then be so adorable, only an hour later. Arriving at her room, Emilie had little under half an hour before she had to leave in order to be at Harry's at half past seven. She changed her shirt, which was more of a basic necessity than a superfluous luxury. Little Charlotte would often grab it when Emilie was carrying her, wiping off her dirty hands on the fabric. Not to mention the stains she would leave when burying her face into Emilie's shoulder or chest area. Emilie's clothes had often been stained with tears, dirty water from the bath, among other things Emilie didn't even want to think about. Emilie therefore opted for a clean pair of jeans, as well. The light washed grey ones went well with the black and white striped jumper she just put on.   She then touched up the little makeup she wore. Just a little mascara and eyeliner. She put lip balm on her lips and added a few sprays of her perfume on her wrists and neck, hoping it wasn't too obvious, simultaneously hoping Harry would notice she put in a bit of effort. Looking in the mirror, she didn't really think she looked that great. She looked rather tired and, in a weird way, older than when she was still at home in Denmark, as if the month of her being here in London had already taken its toll on her. Truth be told, she looked a bit drained. Oh well. Maybe it was because her appearance simply wasn't that important to Emilie anymore since arriving here. She had more vital things to worry about now, taking care of two little girls. She didn't care that sometimes, she chose an extra fifteen minutes of sleep in the morning over her makeup routine, which meant she would spend the day bare faced, at least until her lunch break. She'd also given up on taking care of her hands and nails weeks ago. Before leaving home, she was used to having long natural nails, always perfectly manicured. She cut them for London, long nails not the best thing to be dealing with when working with kids, and, like she expected, they never really grew back to their original length because they had simply broken off before they got to that stage. Emilie now just made sure they were kept short and tidy. She didn't bother with nail varnish anymore. Emilie stepped into her high heeled ankle boots, wrapped a big scarf around her neck and put on her coat at around ten minutes past seven. Her hands were in her pockets on the way over, until she arrived at Harry's house and had to collect her phone and open her messages with Harry for the code to the gate. When she'd first read the numbers, they seemed to be a random selection. Standing in front of his gate and entering the code, however, they made more sense and made a funny little pattern. Just like Harry explained over text, there was a low beep coming from the gate after Emilie entered the first series of numbers. She then quickly entered the second run and the gate buzzed again and clicked open. Making her way down the gravel driveway to the front door, she figured he must've left it open if he gave her the code to his gate. Reaching out to the door knob and turning it, the door indeed opening, it turned out she was right. All of a sudden, before realising it, she was stood in Harry's hallway and the reality of the situation kicked in. Emilie was glad to notice that any tension or nerves had completely left her body.     She knocked on the door to what she assumed was the living room before fully opening it, her head poking out. "Hello? Harry?" "Hiii," she heard Harry call, "Come in, I'm in the kitchen." Entering the living room, Emilie was overwhelmed. Not only did she step foot into a giant living space, everything was extraordinarily beautifully decorated, as well. She followed the sound of Harry's voice. She turned a corner to find the kitchen and saw him standing near the stove. "Hi," he greeted her with a smile on his face. A tea towel was draped over his shoulder. The only thing keeping him for resembling a proper chef was an apron. "Are you cooking?!" Emilie's eyebrows raised, forgetting to say hello. She didn't know what she was expecting exactly, as she knew they were going to have something to eat at the house, but she wasn't expecting Harry to go all out and cook a full dinner for the both of them. She would've thought they'd order in. "Yeah?" Harry replied as if it was only natural. "What are you making? Can I help?" "No, no, no, you've had a long day. You've probably done enough of this. Sit down," Harry pointed at the bar to the side, separating the half-open kitchen from the rest of the living area. "How are you doing? What would you like to drink?" "Uhm-" "And don't act like you wouldn't like a glass of wine." Emilie laughed. "If we're having wine, please also get me a glass of water, because you'll literally have me drunk within minutes." "No, I won't. I know you take alcohol quite well." "Not when I haven't eaten yet." Emilie raised her brows, looking at the space between where she was currently sitting down on the bar chair and the hard wooden floor, "I'll literally fall off this stool." Harry laughed. "Your house is incredible, by the way." "You like it?" he asked, raising his voice a bit to make himself audible over the sounds of the kitchen appliances. "It's amazing." Harry didn't elaborate and grabbed a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses out of a cabinet, opening the bottle like a pro and pouring the deep burgundy liquid.   "So. How was your day?" Emilie couldn't help but inhale and exhale deeply before answering. "It was a lot," she then smiled. "It's just still so..." She looked around her before focussing on Harry's face again. "It's a lot." "Go on," he chuckled. "I mean, sometimes I lie in bed at night and think about the day and I'm like, did that happen just this morning or was it yesterday already? You know what I mean?" "Yeah," Harry said, "It's just 'cos you're so bloody busy and it's every day chaos." "It truly is," Emilie agreed and smiled. "It's madness, but how were your shows!?" she altered her voice, changing the subject. "Oh, great," Harry beamed. "They were amazing. Really good fun." "Must be fun to play here in London." "It was. We played this really amazing venue, the Hammersmith Apollo. It's this really old, beautiful place with a lot of history. It was great to play there." "Cool," Emilie said, not willing to let him know she made a little detour on Sunday just to get a view of the place his shows were at. "Yeah, it was amazing. Kind of feels like a home crowd, you know. We have a show in Manchester tomorrow. I wonder what that's going to be like." "Ahh, nice. Is your family coming?" "Yeah." Harry made his way back to the stove and started stirring in a pan. "Makes me a bit nervous, to be honest. But it's good, it will be good." He returned to the bar a few seconds later, his palms on the marble table top that separated him from where Emilie was sitting, while she took the first sip of her water. "I'm actually staying at my Mum's after the show, I'm not coming back to London. On Thursday, we'll be in Glasgow, so." Luckily, Emilie's geographic knowledge was sufficiently developed to get his point. She understood it was easier for him to stay up north. "Oh shit, my curry," he then went when he heard a simmering sound coming from the stove, quickly returning to his pan of food. "Are you sure I don't need to help you?" Emilie offered. "No, it's fine, I started a while ago, it should be nearly done. Figured you'd be hungry." Emilie smiled, got up from the bar chair nonetheless, and made her way around the bar and the kitchen island to where Harry was standing at the stove. "What're you making, then?" "'ve Got some chicken curry. With some veg. You like that?" "Yeah, sure, it smells amazing." ~~ The dining table was fully set already, a crispy white tablecloth covering it. Emilie made a mental note to be careful and not spoil any bits of her food on the fresh and clean fabric, as Harry was making his way to and from the kitchen with the filled plates. It would be disastrous if she'd suddenly turn into a sloppy eater in the presence of a boy she liked. "Well, cheers," the boy in question toasted a few seconds later. "Cheers," Emilie echoed, bringing her glass of wine towards Harry's. "I hope you like the food. I'm glad we could fit this dinner into our busy schedules," he added, "I'm glad you're here." "Yeah, me too. For all I know, I could've been asked to babysit last minute." Those short notice requests never came as a pleasant surprise. It happened multiple times by now, Emilie getting a call in the late afternoon, sometimes even after she got the girls out of bath, and Emilie hadn't been amused. But of course, she wasn't really in the position to say no and make a big deal out of it just because she wanted those few extra hours to herself. It wasn't like Emilie got up to much in the evenings anyways. So far, this had only been the third night she had plans after work. Everyone knew that she mostly just relaxed in her room at night time. "I told the family I was meeting up with Tilda for dinner, by the way." Harry smiled. "Figured that was easier." Emilie took a bite of her meal. "Oh, wow, this tastes amazing." "Yeah?" "Yeah, it's really good." "Good. So how's everything going with the family? Getting accustomed to each other?" Emilie thought before she answered. She'd been in Hampstead for five weeks already and even though it felt like a longer period of time, she had to admit that connecting with David and Catherine was still going a bit rough to say the least. "It's just a bit... weird... you know? I think I'm just realising and accepting the fact that I don't really get along that great with them?" Emilie finally told Harry, her tone of voice as if she was asking a question. "It's not like we have problems, not at all, but you'd assume that when you practically live with people, stay at their house all day long, be around their children, you'd get along better with them than we currently are... It's not like I'm jumping for joy every time one of them gets home, even though it means my work for the day is done. They're just not really... not type of people, I guess." Harry had a few bites of his meal, letting Emilie vent. "David, for instance, I barely see, also because he travels a lot for work. But when I do, it's just so," Emilie shook her head, sighing, "excruciatingly awkward." Harry laughed. "I'm serious." She cracked a smile, unable to keep up a serious face when facing the twinkle in Harry's eyes. "It's unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It's like, dude, I live in your house. I have been here for over a month. The least you can do is, like, acknowledge my presence when you enter the room." "He sounds like he's just some typical stuck-up London business bloke," Harry imagined, "Who just minds his own business and doesn't care about anything or anyone else." "He doesn't communicate whatsoever. It's like he thinks I can read his mind, or something. All I do is guess, because he doesn't talk. He doesn't give a damn about the girl living in his house, who also happens to be taking sole care of his angel daughters." "What about his wife?" "Catherine-" "Catherine, yeah." "She's alright, I mean, at least she talks." Harry laughed again. "Low standards, I know. But it's alright, I get along better with her," Emilie admitted, "Sometimes she's actually happy to have me around in the evenings, I guess, because I think she gets quite lonely when David's not around. She talks to me about annoying co-workers, her asshole boss, family issues, whatnot." "That's nice," Harry said. "Yeah. She called me her older daughter or her younger sister the other day," Emilie laughed. "But still, I'm not sure how sincere she actually is. I get a weird vibe at times. Like, is she talking shit about me to the people she talks shit about to me? You know? She's not really straightforward or direct in her communication. I feel like I have to look for a hidden message in everything she says." Emilie thought for a second. "I'm guessing that's also a bit of an English thing to do, though." "Heyyyyy!" "Isn't it, though?" she honestly asked him. "Not always in a bad way, I don't mean that you're like that, as well! I mean, maybe Danish people are a bit less..." "Douchey?" "Maybe," Emilie laughed. "I don't know. Just cultural differences, let's put it that way." "So far, I think the two of us get along quite well," Harry commented with a smirk on his face. "So far, yeah," Emilie retaliated. Harry laughed and jokingly rolled his eyes as he got up from the table. He returned a few seconds later with a bowl of salad he'd forgotten in the kitchen and the bottle of wine he just opened, in case they needed refilling. Emilie noticed he'd also turned off the extractor hood above the stove, the noise in the background now gone and the music that had already been playing when Emilie arrived now audible more clearly. She'd thought she heard a Norah Jones song before, but it appeared that he had a full playlist on, 'Come Away With Me' turning into another smooth ballad by the piano jazz singer. "I can't with the music," Emilie smiled when Harry got seated again. "Why, you don't like it?" "No, I do, it's just... I don't know." "What?" "It... It sets a vibe." "A vibe?" He cocked his eyebrow. "Yeah, like a very relaxed, chill, calm vibe." "That's good, though, innit?" "It is, I suppose." Emilie let out another sigh. "I guess I'm just not used to feeling at ease like this." ~~ After they finished dinner, Emilie helped Harry cleaning up the kitchen, putting everything away in the dishwasher and making sure the table tops were all cleared and spotless. They made a pot of tea later and Emilie was surprised to find Harry drank his tea without milk, the way Emilie was used to having hers back home. They then sat down on one of Harry's ridiculously comfortable sofas in the living room, where a coffee table was placed in the middle of the furniture and a huge flat screen TV was hanging on the wall above an open fireplace. "Wanna watch a movie or summat?" Harry asked after they had their first sips of tea. "Sure." Harry opened the Netflix app on the TV and started browsing through the countless amounts of films and series. He asked what kinds of movies Emilie was into, before his eye fell on Titanic, calling it a classic. "I like Titanic but it's so long," Emilie commented, "It'd be nice if we could finish the film before I'm heading back." "In that case, I'll look for the longest film I can find," Harry shamelessly flirted as he continued browsing. Emilie chuckled, rolling her eyes. They eventually settled upon Pride and Prejudice after Emilie admitted she'd only seen it once, years and years ago. Focusing on the film, sitting there beside each other in silence, it didn't feel anything but natural when Emilie noticed Harry was sitting quite closely to her right, her pulled up leg brushing his thigh. The film had only just started when Harry reached for the side table to his right and grabbed a soft blanket, draping it over the both of them, as they quickly found comfort. The film was good, but Emilie felt herself getting quite sleepy. About forty-five minutes in, she found that her head was getting heavier and heavier, as it eventually gently fell to the right, landing on the side of Harry's shoulder, the softness of the fabric of Harry's jumper against her cheek. She was dozing off comfortably until all of a sudden, Emilie felt a nudge coming from her right, Harry moving his shoulder up and down. Her closed eyes shut open and she blinked a few times. "You fell asleep," Harry accused teasingly. "No, I didn't." "Yes, you did." His voice was high pitched. "I just closed my eyes for a second." "It was definitely more than just a second." "Nice to know you're sitting there, watching me." Emilie rolled her eyes. "Aren't we supposed to watch the film?" With that, Harry stopped answering and a smile appeared on his face. Emilie meanwhile got up from her comfy position lying against Harry, and stretched.  She made sure to sit up a bit straighter so she wouldn't nearly fall asleep again. "You don't have to sit so far away." She looked up, watching Harry pet the empty spot between them that she just created. With a smile, she moved closer to him again, her side pressed against his once more. They sat in silence, watching the film. It was nowhere near about to end, though, and it was nearing ten-thirty. Emilie couldn't but think about her alarm going off in the morning. "I think I'm gonna... I think I'm gonna head back soon," she therefore spoke up. "You are?" "Yeah." "Alright." It was silent for a couple of seconds again, the characters in the movie the only ones speaking, until Harry added, "Like now?" Emilie nodded. "Yeah. I think it's best if I don't stay up so late." "Okay." They got up from underneath the blanket, Harry grabbing the fabric and folding it up. "Aren't you gonna finish it?" Emilie asked when she saw Harry stopping the movie instead of pausing it, closing the Netflix app on the TV and eventually turning it off. "We'll finish it another time, together." Emilie put on her ankle boots she had taken off and went to find her coat in the hallway. Harry accompanied her, walking her out. He'd also taken off his boots and Emilie found it funny to see that with Harry just wearing socks and Emilie standing tall in her heels, they were now nearly the same height. "So. Thanks for dinner, it was really good." "Of course," he brushed off, "No problem." They walked to the front door, only one thing on Emilie's mind. The previous times, Harry had been the one initiating physical contact. Now, Emilie just knew that she was going to regret it if she didn't at least try to make advances. In a sudden state of feeling brave, she stepped closer to him and reached out to get hold of his hand. Looking up, Harry smiled, watching their connected fingers. He understood what Emilie was pursuing and bent his head down a bit, as the distance between them closed. Emilie first thought he was just going in for a peck or a quick kiss but suddenly felt he was aiming for more, his tongue sliding in between her lips, urging her to open her mouth a bit further. His touch again left her breathless and only wanting more, wishing she could feel this way forever. They both smiled when the kiss ended and the distance between them increased. Emilie's left hand was still holding his right, their joined limbs dangling between their bodies. "I'll be going, then." "Are you gunna text me again in a bit?" Emilie blinked slowly and smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "Oh, shut up." He laughed and opened the front door for her. He pushed a button on a touch screen panel hanging on the wall and Emilie heard the buzzing sound of the gate opening in the distance. Her cue to go. "Thanks for tonight. And enjoy your time at home," she told him. He thanked her. "I will. It will be good." "Have fun at your shows." "And you have fun working. Or good luck, I should say. And, uhm, I'll text you?" "Yeah," she smiled. "See you soon." "For sure." The walk back went by in a flash. Without thinking much about it, Emilie rapidly made her way down the main road, feeling all kinds of energetic; a stark contrast to the sleepiness that had taken over her by the end of the evening, lying on the sofa. It was like she could still feel her lips tingling when she arrived back in the Village, about fifteen minutes later, the kiss replaying itself in Emilie's mind. She could still feel his touch on her mouth. She could still feel the sparks. With that, she didn't need more proof to confirm what she already knew. She was fully aware of what Harry was doing to her. To make matters worse, a text message popped up on her phone screen, after getting ready for bed. Tonight was really nice. Look forward to seeing you this weekend. Sweet dreams.   With a fluttering heart, Emilie typed her response, You're a great cook, I'm gonna keep that in mind. Thanks for tonight, see you soon x | < Previous chapter | Next chapter > | | Story page | Author | Talk to me |