Harry Styles One Shots

part 3 of Y/N's flat caught on fire and Harry needs a roommate

iii.

Y/N had never platonically cuddled before.

Or, well – really, Y/N hasn't cuddled anyone before, at least not when she's awake. There had been a few one-night stands she could distantly recall falling asleep in their bed and waking up pressed to their side, but she could almost guarantee that was their doing and not her own. The only reason she knew that it wasn't something her sleeping form pursued was that she typically cannot get comfortable with someone's additional weight anywhere on top of her. She gets too warm too quickly, she moves around too much, and she gets irrationally annoyed if they move around too much. Y/N had cuddled with one guy once before while she was awake and it was horrible; she stayed awake for hours until she finally decided to peel his limbs from around her body and scoot to the far end of the bed.

It's different with Harry though.

That very first night, she had thought nothing of it. He was tipsy, loose-lipped, and probably felt vulnerable being honest with her about feeling jealous, and Y/N still had one foot in a dream so she had no idea how to soothe him (not that she would have known how to had she been completely awake). How half-awake-her had seen it, was that she had already agreed for him to get in bed with her and Harry seemed like the type to keep talking himself in circles until he finally fell asleep. She would feel bad to kick him out now, especially with how pleased he seemed when she agreed to share, even when he got beneath her covers and almost immediately launched into his explanation of his emotions. If anyone else had done this she would have pretended she fell back asleep until they got the hint to go to bed themselves.

But when she thought of that, she thought of the sad look that lingered beneath his gaze when he was crawling into the Ferris Wheel seat in front of her and Niall, and how it remained up to them to share their funnel cake. To hear that he felt jealous – that he considered her his best friend? There was no way she could ignore all that, but there was also no way she could have articulated a response he deserved to his little confession either.

So scooting back and pulling his arm over her waist seemed like the best bet, and it turned out she'd been right. Y/N didn't have to respond, but Harry wasn't sitting beside her wondering if she was mad at him or didn't like that Harry considered her his best friend. Truth be told, Harry probably was her best friend but she really wasn't in the mood to explore that at the time either. A cuddle worked just fine, and she fell back to sleep rather quickly afterward.

Plus, that next morning when she woke up, she had not regretted it like she briefly thought she might. Harry was still wrapped around her, nearly the same position they had fallen to sleep in with him spooning her, but Y/N wasn't feeling stiff so they must have moved around at some point. His arm cradled her to his chest, his hand tucked beneath her side that was pressed to the mattress with his leg swung across her thighs, his face snuggled in her throat. Y/N wondered if Harry always cuddled people like they were an oversized stuffie, especially when she wiggled and his grip around her only tightened up.

"Mm–mm," he grumbled, "No' yet."

Through bleary eyes, she finally had a look at the clock and when she realized the white digital numbers shining brightly in her room read 4:06 AM, she allowed herself to sink back into his hold. If she had to piss he would have had to deal with her wiggling from his grasp, but he lucked out, she guesses. The next time she woke up, Harry had disappeared, and from the clank and clatter in the kitchen, she could only imagine he was making them breakfast. Pebble's warmth at her legs had vanished as well, and for a moment she wished they had woken up together rather than separately, but she got over it.

Still, just as it had when she started going places with him, this one instance had popped the lid off a can of worms that she originally had no intention of opening. But now they slithered and wiggled from the aluminum, plopped down on the table in a conglomerate of pushing the couch ends together to create the makeshift bed, gathering every blanket and pillow he could find, and eventually making his way to her side by the end of the night. Suddenly, Harry wanted to do a lot more movie nights than he's wanted to in the past; he's got a list of films he wants to go through – a huge list, actually, like he'd gone on a film site and just started writing shit down even if it didn't interest him.