after nearly a year together, you find yourself jealous because harry never informed you of his history with a certain someone.
warning: there’s the tiniest bit of smut at the end.
“Love? You ready to go?” Harry walked into the threshold of our bedroom just as I was finishing applying my lipstick and then I turned to look at him. He whistled and blood rushed to my cheeks, “Look at you.” He said, his voice low as he walked towards me.
I smiled, “Me? Please, look at you.” I teased, pulling him by the lapels as he got closer.
His hands ran up and down my bare arms, “Don’t you have a sweater? S'gonna be cold tonight.”
“Who needs a sweater when I have you?” I teased and bopped his nose with my finger and he scrunched up his face in protest.
“Seriously, love, you’re going to get sick if you don’t put something on.” He said as I walked past him to get my shoes.
“I have a coat.” I saw him notice my bare legs under my dress as I put on my ankle boots. “Harry, I’m fine. Promise. The alcohol will keep me warm when you’re unavailable.” I smiled at him and he smiled back uneasily but stayed quiet, knowing I would kick him out of our flat before letting him tell me how to dress. “Besides, if I get sick that’s just an excuse to have you wait on my every beck and call as I stay in bed.”
That got him really smiling, his dimples showing, “Ah, so the masterplan is revealed.”