#replace lasagna with alcohol then there ya go

[blacklistedfun]

Clay!Garfield

[tobesolonely]

birthday dinner

summary: harry and y/n’s daughter turns seventeen and reveals she has a boyfriend within the timespan of like, 2 days, and harry cannot process it </3

a/n: this gif has nothing to do with the story i just think he looks so hot❤️ i literally wrote this all today it just came to me... kinda proofread but kinda not?! 

warnings: no smut but like one very brief mention of sex, fluff, maybe like 1 angsty part? kinda? not really , mentions of drinking alcohol

word count: ~3.6k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

let me know your thoughts!!

When you and Harry excitedly told your family and friends almost seventeen years ago that you were expecting your first (and unbeknownst to you at the time— your only) child, you were both over the moon. The people in your life who already had children told you to cherish every moment, the good and the bad because she’d be all grown up before you knew it. You took everyone’s advice graciously but of course, as an expectant mom, there was no way for your mind to even think that far ahead. 

Everyone was right, though. 

Now your daughter, Mona, was nearly seventeen— you felt like all you did was blink and she was this independent, beautiful, young woman. She was the perfect mix of both of you. She had her father’s kindness, patience, and determination. She had your willpower, grace, and wit. Neither one of you could be any more in love with the beautiful human being you’ve created. 

In the months leading up to your daughter’s birthday, you constantly badgered her about how she wanted to celebrate. She would always respond with a nice dinner with you and Harry— unlike her father she tended to shy away from attention— but Harry wasn’t on board with the idea of anything that wasn’t a ginormous party.

“She doesn’t want that,” you told him one evening as you were setting the table for dinner. “You know how shy she gets. She’s not like you.” Harry rolls his eyes at your comment. 

“I feel like tha’s supposed to be an insult, but I’ll ignore it,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed. “You only turn seventeen once. We gotta do somethin’ she’ll never forget.”

“Well, we’re not the ones turning seventeen, hmm? That was quite some time ago if I’m not mistaken.” Harry gives you a cheeky grin.

“So happy she’s not anything like us when we were seventeen. ‘Member all the shit we used to get into when we were her age?” 

You laugh, shaking your head as you recall memories from your teenage years. “Yeah, we’re raising an absolute angel compared to what we were.” Your husband hums in agreement, walking the short distance to the dining table to snake his arms around your waist from behind. 

“Speaking of our little angel,” he places wet kisses to your neck. “Still got a bit of time until she’s home from volleyball practice, haven’t we?”

You move away from Harry, giving him a warning look. “You’re insatiable, I swear! I’m still recovering from last night,” Harry laughs at how dramatic you were being. “We’re not as young as we used to be, y’know.”

“Oi, don’t remind me, love,” he places a quick smack to your butt, walking out of the room before you can reprimand him. 

Just as you finish tossing the salad and reach for your phone to check and see where your daughter is, she walks through the front door, tossing her sports gear in a messy pile at her feet.

“Mom, dad,” she calls loudly. “I’m home!” 

“You don’t have to tell us,” Harry calls back from upstairs, probably in his office. “Can smell you from all the way up here.” 

You giggle silently to yourself, already able to see the look of annoyance on your daughter’s face. She rounds the corner and appears before you in the doorway of the kitchen, her curly hair a mess and her face slick with sweat. 

“Hi mom,” she chirps sweetly, a dimpled grin on her face. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving, mom. Our coach made us run sooooo much today and we had to do all this conditioning and my legs literally feel like jelly.”

Your daughter reaches her hand in the salad bowl to grab a cucumber and you quickly slap it away, tsking loudly. “Mona! I haven’t seen you wash your hands yet!” 

“Mom, my hands are clean. I used hand sanitizer when I got in my car after practice,” she tells you matter-of-factly, rolling her big, brown eyes at you. “You’re such a germaphobe.” 

“What’s this ‘bout callin’ your mum a germaphobe?” Harry walks into the kitchen, his curls now pulled back with one of his daughter’s many headbands. He presses a kiss to the top of her sweaty head and wrinkles his nose. “Yeah Mo, you smell a bit. Why don’t you go get washed up before we eat?” 

“Dad,” your daughter responds, clearly exasperated. “You don’t understand. I’m literally starving.” 

“Mo,” Harry imitates your daughter. “You don’t understand. You literally smell like shit.” 

Your eyes widen and you smack Harry on the chest as he bursts out laughing, not being able to help himself once he sees the annoyed look on his daughter’s face. “Don’t be an ass!” you scold, placing your hands on your hips. “She’s hungry. She can wash up after.” 

“Thanks, mom,” Mona says, turning her head dramatically to face you. “Dad is so mean sometimes.”

“I’m just messin’ with ya, Mo,” Harry tells your daughter, nudging her gently. “You smellin’ like shit jus’ means you’re workin’ hard at practice. So I’m proud of you.” Your daughter rolls her eyes for what seems like the hundredth time since she walked in the door, quickly moving away from your husband to wash her hands.

“You’re seriously so annoying,” Mona mumbles, shaking her wet hands all over the tiled kitchen floor. “Can we eat now? I think I’ll faint if we don’t eat now. Seriously, guys.”

Your daughter takes her usual seat at the table, immediately reaching for the salad bowl and filling her plate. She avoids all the tomatoes and onions, opting for just lettuce, carrots, and cucumbers. She watches you closely as you take the lasagna out of the oven and you swear you see her drool a little bit.

“So,” Harry says after you and Mona have fixed your plates. “Your birthday’s comin’ up, Mo.”

Mona shoves a big forkful of lasagna in her mouth, wiping her mouth with a paper towel before speaking. “Yeah, two days.” She has a big smile on her face. “I’m so excited, dad. Did you and mom look into that place I showed you? For dinner?”

“Yeah, about that,” Harry takes a sip of water. “Y’sure you just want a dinner? No party? Your mum and I can put together a party for you last minute with no problem, bub.”

“Dad, I already told you that I’m not really into parties like that.”

“But you’re turnin’ seventeen.”

“How is it any different from sixteen?”

“Mo–”

“Harry,” you interrupt, placing your hand over his. “It’s her birthday. If she just wants a nice dinner with us then so be it.”

“Actually…” your daughter looks between the both of you. “I wanted to know if I could bring a friend.”

“‘Course y’can, Mo,” Harry’s eyes light up. “You can bring as many people as you want, darlin’. Jus’ lemme know ahead of time so I can make the reservations…” He trails off, already making a mental note to ask his assistant about making reservations for Mona’s restaurant of choice.

“Well,” Mona begins picking at her cuticles, one of her nervous habits. “It’s just one friend. Uh, a boy. I mean, I guess he’s more than a friend. He’s kinda like, my boyfriend?” Your daughter has a giddy look on her face, but it’s quickly replaced with that of fear when she sees the incredulous look her father has.

“A boyfriend? You have a boyfriend, Mona?” he slams his fork down on his plate. “Since when? What did your mum and I tell you about dating?”

“I don’t know dad, it’s new! Why do I have to wait until I’m in college to date but you and mom have been together since you were my age? How is that fair?” Your daughter is staring back at your husband, beyond irritated.

“I know what sixteen-year-old boys are like, Mo! I was one!” Harry raises his voice. “Absolutely not, Mona. You’re not allowed to date and he’s not allowed to join us.”

“He’s seventeen, for your information. And anyway, I’m sure sixteen-year-old boys are different today than they were fifty years ago,” your daughter retorts, standing up and grabbing her plate of food. “I’m eating in my room. You’re being annoying.”

“I just turned forty and you know it, Mona,” Harry calls after her. Your daughter says nothing in response and you’re met with the sound of her door slamming shortly after. Harry looks at you in disbelief. 

“Did you not hear anything our daughter just said, Y/N?” the vein in his forehead is prominent and you know your husband is just as upset as Mona is.

“I did,” you start slowly, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. “I mean, she has a point. Why did we decide she wasn’t allowed to date until college when we were together at her age?”

“Y/N,” Harry says, clearly annoyed. “We were jus’ talkin’ about the shit we used to get into when we were her age. Isn’t that what bein’ a parent is? Not wanting your kid to make the same bad choices as you did?”

You scoff at your husband. “So now you’re saying our being together was a bad choice?”

“Love, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Harry,” you sigh. “We can’t shelter her forever. That’s not fair to her. She needs to go out and make mistakes and have fun and figure things out for herself. Who knows, this boy could be the man she–”

“Please don’t,” Harry cuts you off, knowing what you were getting at. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Harry, I think you know that we need to give this guy a chance. We can’t make any judgments until we meet him for ourselves, and I think Mo’s birthday dinner would be the perfect time to do that.”

“But Y/N,” your husband whines, clearly completely against the idea. “I don’t wanna encourage it.”

“You’re being a child,” you tell him, annoyance lacing your voice. “Mona’s bringing her boyfriend to her birthday dinner and that’s that. If we meet him and he’s just a terrible human being, then we can re-visit this conversation. If you don’t think you can be an adult and be supportive of our daughter’s relationship, just keep it to yourself.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m eating dinner somewhere else, too,” you tell him, standing up from the table and grabbing your plate. “You can join me when you want to be a mature adult. Oh, and apologize to our daughter.”

“Love–”

Slam!

The tension in your household is thick in the two days leading up to your daughter’s birthday. Whenever Harry enters a room she’s in she quickly leaves, not wanting to talk to her father. Harry doesn’t make any effort to speak to her, either. Harry upsetting your daughter, in turn, makes you upset with him. You find yourself much quicker to snap at him than you usually are. He busies himself with work to distract himself from the fact that both of you are pissed at him.

On the morning of your daughter’s birthday, there’s still tension, but you and Harry try to put it aside for the sake of Mona. 

“Happy birthday to you,” Harry sings quietly as you enter your daughter’s bedroom, a big stack of pancakes with a ‘17’ candle stuck in the top in your hands. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dearest Mona, happy birthday to you.”

You both sit on the edge of your daughter’s bed as she groans, pulling her comforter up higher over her head. “You guys, it’s so early.”

“Mona, don’t be a grouch! You’re seventeen today,” you hand Harry the plate of pancakes, pulling her covers down. “C’mon missy, make a wish.”

Mona sits up and tries to give you both her best annoyed-face but you know she’s not actually mad, far too excited about her birthday, and the day ahead of her. She was just telling you the night before how happy she was that her birthday fell on a Saturday this year, too.

She closes her eyes for a brief second before blowing out the candles on her birthday pancakes. “Thanks, mom and dad. I feel like things have been a little bit, I dunno, weird? Since I told you about Noah. I really love you both though. I’m sorry I didn’t talk about things with you first.”

Harry leans over to place a kiss on the top of her head. “‘M sorry I blew up on ya like that, princess. It’s jus’ hard for me to know you’re growin’ up. Your happiness is the most important thing in this world to me though so if he makes you happy, I’m gonna give him a chance.”

You smile at the sweet moment between your husband and daughter. At the end of the day, your daughter was a huge daddy’s girl and although you gave both of them a hard time about it, nothing made your heart more full than their special bond.

“Dad, you’ll seriously love him. He’s literally so funny,” she gushes and Harry just nods, taking a bite of her pancakes. “He’ll even laugh at your dad jokes. Like, he thinks shit like that is funny.”

“Language, Mo,” Harry warns. “He really likes dad jokes, though?” Your husband sounds a little too hopeful, causing you to giggle.

“Yeah, dad. He always tries to tell me his jokes and I’m just like, ‘Ew, stop! You sound like my dad!’. Oh, he loves One Direction by the way.”

“What about my solo stuff?”

“He thinks it’s cool,” she says nonchalantly, causing you to stifle more laugher. Harry continues nibbling on her pancakes, a troubled look on his face. “Can you guys go out while I change? I’ll be downstairs in like, two seconds.”

“Sure thing, Mo,” you tell your daughter, taking her plate of pancakes from Harry before he eats them all. “Do you want me to make your coffee or anything?”

“It’s okay, mom. Noah said he was gonna drop off coffee for me this morning,” she looks down, a small smile on her face. “I guess you and dad can meet him before dinner then if you want?”

You see Harry tense up slightly out of the corner of your eye but he surprises you by staying calm. “Sounds great, poppet. Your mum and I will be downstairs.” He places a quick peck on your daughter’s cheek and quickly walks out of her room, leaving you to follow after him.

“You okay?” you ask him quietly once you’re out of earshot of your daughter’s room. He nods quickly.

“Yeah love, all is well,” he assures, but his facial expression says otherwise. 

“I’m sure Mona was just giving you a hard time. I’m sure Noah enjoys your solo stuff just like anyone else does.” You try to reassure your husband, standing on your toes to give him a kiss. You feel Harry smiling into the kiss and you pull back, a look of confusion on your face. “What’s wrong?”

“S’not that, love,” he says. “I jus’ wasn’t ready to meet him now. Thought I had all day to mentally prepare.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you warn, moving to pour yourself a cup of coffee. “Please don’t do anything to embarrass her.”

“I know, Y/N,” Harry says exasperatedly. “I’m not that terrible. I know how to control–”

“He’s here,” your daughter informs the both of you as she runs down the stairs and hurries by. You catch a whiff of the expensive Gucci perfume Harry got you a couple of years prior and you make a mental note to tell Harry to pick her up a bottle of her own when he gets the chance.

Harry’s face is a little pale and if you didn’t know any better, you’d of thought he just saw a ghost. “Are you okay, H? It’ll be okay.” You rub small circles on his back. Your daughter flings open the door and immediately envelops her boyfriend in a tight hug and you can’t help but let out an audible, ‘aw’. He has balloons, coffee, donuts, and a card that you’re sure your daughter will never let either one of you ever read.

She invites him inside, bouncing from excitement and what you assumed to be nerves. “Mom, dad. This is Noah.”

He immediately extends his hand, nearly dropping Mona’s coffee in the process. He chuckles nervously and quickly hands it to her before holding his hand out again. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you both. Uh, thank you for allowing me to join in on Mo’s birthday dinner tonight.” 

You reach out to shake his hand and give him a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, Noah. Please, call me Y/N– I feel like Mrs. Styles kinda makes me sound a bit old.” Mona rolls her eyes at this, taking a sip at her coffee. There’s an awkward silence and you nudge Harry, waiting for him to say something.

“Mr. Styles is fine with me. It’s great to meet you, Noah,” Harry says gruffly. Noah nods and looks over at Mona, clearly uncomfortable. 

“We’re gonna go upstairs,” she informs you, grabbing Noah’s hand and leading the way.

“Door stays open,” Harry calls after her. “Don’t let me come upstairs and see your door’s closed, Mona.”

Your daughter turns to look at you, widening her eyes in embarrassment. You shake your head at Harry and go back to fixing your cup of coffee. “Harry, you’re so horrible. I’d be mortified if I was them.”

“Good. That’s what I was tryin’ to do,” he goes next to you and picks up your coffee mug, taking a sip. “S’good. Can I have this one?”

“Harry!” you give him an amused look. “Make your own cup!”

“You make it taste so good though, love,” Harry gives you that look that he knows you can never say no to, and you sigh before giving in and handing him the cup of coffee you just made.

“Whatever happens with Mo and Noah, I hope he’s not as big of a fuckin’ pest as you are.”

“This place is amazing,” you tell your husband, completely in awe. You were out to dinner at the tallest rooftop restaurant in all of Los Angeles, seventy-three floors above the ground. You could look out and see the entire city and although you were normally terrified of heights, the view left you speechless.

“Mo’s the one that picked it,” he tells you, leaning over to whisper in your ear. He has his arm slung around you as he gently rubs your shoulder. “Gonna drink with me tonight, hm? They got some fancy soundin’ drinks on this menu.”

“One drink,” you emphasize. “I don’t wanna wake up with a hangover.”

“Mom, isn’t this place so cool? Can you take a picture of us?” your daughter hands you her phone, leaning closer to Noah. You feel Harry tense beside you but he doesn’t say anything.

“It’s very cool, Mona. I think you have expensive taste like your dad,” you joke, holding up her phone. “Okay, one, two, three.”

You snap multiple pictures of your daughter, remembering how she always told you that the only way to take pictures was to take at least twenty at a time to leave options open when deciding which picture to post on Instagram. You hand the phone back to Mona and she thanks you, analyzing the pictures with her boyfriend. Their heads are touching and your expression softens as you think back to how you and Harry always found reasons to be close to each other when you were your daughter’s age.

The night goes beautifully. Your daughter has a big smile on her face the entire time and Harry even refrains from being unnecessarily overprotective, opting to let Mona enjoy herself and be close to her boyfriend. The more drinks he throws back the more he engages in conversation with Noah, even answering his burning questions about One Direction.

When the waitress comes around to give Mona her slice of birthday cake and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ with the wait staff your husband is singing the loudest, slightly off-tune due to how inebriated he was. Your daughter laughs, hiding her face in her hands.

“Mom, dad’s being embarrassing,” she groans. You know she’s not actually mad but you nudge him, warning him to knock it off.

As you’re getting ready to leave, Harry tells everyone to wait, hiccuping before speaking. “Wait. I’ve got somethin’ to say.” He’s slurring slightly and you laugh, signaling for your daughter and Noah to sit back down.

“Noah,” Harry starts. Mona gives you a worried look and you’re debating whether or not you should interrupt Harry, not knowing what he was going to say. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at Mo all night and makin’ her laugh. Swear she hasn’t stopped smilin’ since we got here. I like that, Noah.” You decide not to interrupt your husband’s drunken rambling. 

“Thank you, sir–”

“I had my doubts at first,” he continues on, taking another sip of his drink. “What dad wouldn’t? She’s my baby girl. Don’t care if she’s seventeen, she’ll be my baby ‘til the day I die. You make her so happy though, and I appreciate that.” He holds up his finger, gesturing for them to give him a second while he thinks about his next words.

“Don’t call me sir, makes me sound old. Call me Harry.”