Harry Styles Imagines/Blurbs

30 Rockefeller Plaza [Christmas]

Your eyes had recoiled at the sight of your cellphone’s bright screen. “Hey love, meet me in the lobby in 15 and dress warm” You let out a soft groan as you rolled over and put a palm to your face, hand working to massage the sting of light out of your eyes. “Seriously, Harry?” you had mumbled into the dark, your tired mind more concerned with sleep than another crazy mid-night outing with Harry. Your lungs filled with an annoyed breath as you haphazardly flung a scarf around your neck and pulled on a pair of jeans. There’d be no reasoning with him—you knew that—and going along with his childish ideas was definitely better than the alternative—him thinking up some stupid way of breaking into your hotel room and waking you up mercilessly and then making you go on his stupid adventure anyway.

“Seriously, Harry, what now?” you’d sleepily mumbled when he’d dorkily bounded up to you, your first step barely complete from the elevator.

“Come on.” He’d simply replied in his usual Harry-esque way—sort of dumb and drawling and excited all at the same time. His hand tugged at yours and led you out of the hotel into the chill of a New York December night. Your skin didn’t like the blast of cold, but Harry’s didn’t seem to care so much as he easily hailed a taxi in the relatively empty streets—for New York, that is.

You’d nearly stopped to ask him where on earth he was taking you, but too tired for that you’d settled for snuggling into his chest and closing your eyes again, too tired to be bothered by his quiet mumbles to the taxi driver or the faint sounds of The Sound of Music drifting from the front of the cab.

Even with the noise of the city still persisting into the night, making true the old adage of “the city never sleeps,” the muffled sounds of bustling were somehow relaxing. The honk of a horn here, the drill of a construction worker there—it all seemed to make you even drowsier. Or perhaps it was the warmness of Harry’s arm around you, his curious eyes watching the night life of the city as his steady breath seemed to move in rhythm to the stoplights.  Sometimes you wondered how he could still be so interested in his surroundings after traveling the world and going to so many exotic places. But somehow he always was, always enjoyed noticing the little things and the big things and everything in between. And perhaps you would have too, if only it hadn’t been the middle of the night and you hadn’t wished you could just have stayed in your nice, warm bed.

Eventually his lips drifted to your slumping head, a kiss brushing your hair as his arm tightened around you. “Look.” He’d whispered, the familiar mischievous nature in his voice.

You’d glanced up at him first, his eyes leading yours out the window as the taxi pulled up to your destination.

Glittering lights cascaded down from a tree bigger than you’d ever seen, sparkling, dipping, swirling in the midnight wind. Your face instantly brightened at the sight, the strong branches following their wind-swept adorning lights in a dance-like fashion. The taxi rolled to a stop, allowing you time to tumble out of the cab in a state of excitement somewhere between sleep and Christmas morning.

Christmas music gently piped out of a few lonely speakers, no doubt toned down due to the late hour. But it was just enough to make you feel a bit giddy inside, like Santa Claus might just appear at any second and grant you exactly what you’d wished for without so much as a second thought. But then Harry’s arm had returned to your side, his dimpling grin enjoying your childish wonder, and you’d remembered that Santa had delivered your gift early this year. All five feet, eleven inches of him.

“Pretty great, huh.” Harry’s low voice tickled your ear.

“You’re stupid.” You’d replied, but he’d known you were trying to keep down an excited giggle.

“Want to walk?” His eyes sparkled just like the lights of the tree, and his adorably unbearable charm made you want to be difficult.

“No.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Circling around the empty skating ring, closed for hours by the time you’d arrived, was certainly chilly in the covering of darkness, but you realized the crazy hour gave you a reprieve from recognition. No one was out to bother your time with Harry—at least, no one that cared to. And Harry seemed to enjoy the cold, if not for the excuse of pulling you in so close you thought you might trip with every step you took. His hands found yours, the tips of which had started to turn a bright red in their lack of warmth, and shoved them into his pockets just as you’d rounded the edge of the rink and come to the front of the tree again.

“You know what cold hands mean?” he’d poked.

“Lemme guess.. a cold heart.” You’d rolled your eyes, his corny jokes secretly making you laugh—if not just for the stupid look of satisfaction in his eyes when he really thought he’d made a good one.

“Heyyy, that’s not fair. How’d you know?” he’d whined, though his cheeky grin stayed in place.

“Oh come on, Harry, it’s not like you made that up.” You playfully glared at him.

His lips pouted for a moment before he spoke again. “I thought it was clever.”

“I think you need to look up the word clever and reassess.” You’d sassed. He frowned his most pitiful frown, making you sigh and roll your eyes again, face meeting his chest. “Oh stop.”

His giggles made you smile as his hands slid from on top of ours and out of his pockets to circle around your back.

“You’re stupid.” He chuckled.

“You’re stupid.” You replied, his torso moving back so his eyes could meet yours.

“Stupider.” He declared of you before his lips met yours.

“Stupidest.” You corrected impudently and kissed him back tersely.

Finally his cheesy grin broke your sarcasm and you couldn’t help but chuckle back.

“Worth it?” He’d asked simply as you both turned to gaze at the tree again, this time with your arms all tucked around each other and coats so close they melded into one smush of warmth.

“Worth it.” You nodded quietly, not minding so much being torn from sleep anymore in light of all the twinkling lights—draping around the tree, dancing in his eyes, tucking around your heart. “So worth it.”

And without even looking you’d known he’d given one of those satisfied grins, one of those grins that you could barely handle because he was just too content and excited and amused and adorable in every way. Because maybe his joke didn’t pan out, but making you happy was better than a thousand corny jokes, and he’d figured that’s what satisfaction really was—loving someone and loving to make them happy and loving it when they were. Well, that and maybe a few good corny jokes.