Kitchen Disasters (H.S)
The following fan fiction is based on this idea. I hope you like it because I definitely had fun writing this.
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Summary: Harry’s attempt at making Mother’s Day lunch.
Warnings: mentions of food and swearing.
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What is he thinking? He can’t cook to save his life. Sure, he knew how to bake when he was a mere sixteen year old but now he simply can’t. Admittedly, you are the cook in this relationship.
‘Come on, man, you’ve got this. Get it together.’
With the mantra repeating in his mind, he gets to work. Thank god, you weren’t awake to see the disaster that was about to ensue. You would’ve had his head served on the platter instead of the steak.
Harry wasn’t here for mother’s day because he had to fly out to Italy for some dress rehearsals with Allesandro and Harry Lambert for his upcoming public appearances. You wanted to go with him but having a six month old toddler and a four your old pre schooler wasn’t exactly an ideal traveling situation. Handing Harry the children the moment he came back, you trotted off to your bedroom for some much needed sleep. If you knew having two kids would’ve been this stressful, you wouldn’t have allowed Harry within a six mile radius of you. Oh, who were you kidding, its Harry Styles. No one can resist that narcissist’s charm.
“Where’s the bloody pan? Y’shouldn’t have bought a damn mansion. Who needs one anyway?” Clattering of the silver is possibly echoing throughout the kitchen but he cannot bring himself to care. Harry’s main concern is finding the right utensils for his venture. You were going to get a steak, no matter what. You deserved a nice lunch for taking care of your children alone when it was both of yours’ responsibility.
The cabinets are thoughtfully organized because let’s admit it, you are a bit of a control freak. Rummaging through them really makes a mess but he is nothing if not a man on a mission. Once he finds the right cabinet, he jumps, forgetting he is six feet tall in all the excitement.
‘Ow! (Y/N) always told y’to close the cabinets. Y’should listen to her but please god, don’t let her notice this bruise. She’ll be t’smug.’
Taking out the frosted meat from the freezer, he dumps it right into the frying pan. The meat is already defrosting a little bit so he figures it shouldn’t be a problem.
‘Hmm, should I use the sauce pan instead, don’t want the oil t’spill.’
The transfer proves a little difficult when the steaks keep slipping out of the tongs and onto the marble tops.
‘These bloody steaks need a spankin’, I swear.’
The olive oil is thankfully right besides the stove so he didn’t have to go on another wild hunt. After spraying a generous amount into the sauce pan, he has one more task to achieve: turning the stove on.
Tick, tick
Tick, tick
Tick, tick
“Daddy, y’need to use the gun.”
“Huh, wha’?” There at the entryway, stands your mini replica with a slight frown on her face. The folded arms, the foot tapping, and the glare hauntingly reminds Harry of his wife. Maybe it would’ve been better if you had busted him. Atlas was a stickler for rules and cleanliness even at the mere age of four which is not exactly an ideal thing for the beloved rockstar. You aren’t the only woman that bosses him around the house. From the moment Atlas learnt to walk, she was already organizing her stuffed animals and having proper tea parties with her parents. She wasn’t the one to mess around with and now, right in this moment, she is definitely pissed off at the sight of the messy kitchen with the open cabinets and the cutlery haphazardly thrown on the floor.
“Y’gotta light it up, daddy.”
“But it’s electrical, pet.”
“Mummy lights it up w’this.” Handing him a gas lighter, she stares him right in the eyes with an annoyed glare.
“Th- Thank y’darling. Guess it’s not electrical, then.” He knew he wasn’t helping his case but he was breaking under her intense gaze. In the trials of parenthood, he has found nothing to be scarier than the glare of his four year old .
“Daddy, Arty threw her binky at me and woke m’up.”
Sighing, he turns the stove on and starts taking milk out of the refrigerator. He just knows that Artemis is going to be in one of her moods and that the nap hasn’t worked. Now, he has two cranky babies instead of one. Just great.
“Y’want a pouch, baby?”
The chubby finger came onto her chin because this was such a big decision. Well, it was a big decision for a four year old. “Applesauce, please.”
“Thank yeh for using your manners, darling.”
Atlas moves towards the living room with the pouch tucked between her puffy lips. Walking towards Atlas’s room, he was glad that he had put pillows around the bed for both of them because Artemis was rolling towards the corner. She has been mobile from the past one month and it has been one hell of an experience. Every single day, she tries to find new ways to escape her crib and injure herself in the process.
“Come on, li’l monkey. I bet you’re hungry.”
“Dadda! Dadda!” The feeling that comes with this one word has never gotten old and for this, Harry has only one person to thank: you.
“Yeah, ‘m your daddy. Come on, let’s get y’fed up.” Softly gazing at her as she peacefully sucks on her bottle, Harry thinks back to the first time he met you. A journalist running into him during the Grammy Awards. Harry has never been glad that his thousand dollar suit was ruined because he met you through that incident. You are still as feisty and ferocious as you were back then. Really keeping the relationship alive.
Seeing his little creation flapping her feet around and fervently sucking on the bottle, he starts his one sided conversation.
“It’s just tha’ yummy, li’l monkey.”
“I understand, I’ve tasted it as well.”
“Your mummy’s amazin’, isn’t she?”
“Love m’three girls so much.”
Time flies by when he is with her because she is a perfect mixture of both you and him. This little girl came into the world very early and there was a heavy chance that she might not have survived. However, she fought her way through this world and here she is, safe in his arms. To imagine a life without one of his girls is more painful than a knife stabbing at his heart.
“Daddy, somethin’ is burning.”
“What are y’talking about?”
“The smell, daddy.” Sometimes it really felt like she was the parent in this dynamic.
“Oh shit!”
“No cursing, daddy!” Correction: she is the parent in this relationship.
“Sorry, pet. Let’s go downstairs and see if mama’s lunch is alrigh’.”
Harry should be thankful that Atlas is listening to him today because she does not move from her seat while he tends to the charred meat. Artemis keeps looking at her father with curious eyes as he runs around the kitchen to find a cloth. He doesn’t want the fire alarm to go off and wake you up.
“Daddy, whatcha lookin’ for?”
“A cloth, baby.”
“Why?”
“For t’alarm.”
“Y’can open the window.” Halting in his steps, he does not acknowledge her statement and just goes to open the window above the sink. No need to give her the satisfaction.
’This meat can be salvaged. She’d just ‘ave to chew a li’l bit more.’
Next come the mashed potatoes because no one likes to serve steak without them. The only problem is that he didn’t know where the potato peeler is so he has to use the knife. Towards the end, there are not many potatoes left to boil. But they have to do because he is running out of time. Soon, the potatoes are boiled and Harry gets to working on them.
‘The potatoes shouldn’t be stained. Did (Y/N) use water in the mashed potatoes? I think she did. They’ll be t’dry without it.’
A whole stick of butter is thrown into the pot along with five tea spoons of salt. The pepper, on the other hand, is a totally different case. The container does not budge and he knows his trainer would have his ass if he could see the struggle right now.
The cap twists unexpectedly and the powder directly flies into his eyes. “My eyes! Oh, m’eyes!”
Running to the sink, he tries to open the faucet but he can’t open his eyes to see a damn thing. After several tries, the water starts coming but it doesn’t really help matters.
“Daddy, I don’t think y’should cook.”
“Thanks, pet.” He knows that a four year old doesn’t understand sarcasm but he can’t help himself.
When it doesn’t seem like his eyes will melt, he goes towards the stove and slowly starts working on the mashed potatoes. Safe to say, he is afraid of another disaster.
Hot potato, hot potato
Hot potato, hot potato
Hot potato, hot potato
Potato, potato, potato
“That’s our song, daddy!”
“Oh, that’s where I heard it.”
“Daddy, dance?” A small tradition between the duo is to dance on the Wiggles’ song. It has been there since she took her first steps and Harry silently hopes that it will never go away.
“Always, baby.”
Cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti
Cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti
Cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti
spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti
Spinning around the kitchen, he can’t help but look at his daughter with utter love and devotion. She is his second love after you and she made him a father. The feeling of holding a bundled up baby for the first time was an experience he still cannot put into words.
Whooo, wiggy wiggy wiggy
Whooo, wiggy wiggy wiggy
“Arty, y’can do this with dadda until y’start walking. You better do, pet.”
“I don’t think she cares, daddy.” Again, she is right. Artemis appears to be more interested in fitting her whole fist in her mouth rather than looking at them.
When he is finally done with cooking, he doesn’t want to focus on the fact that the mashed potatoes are still looking a little slimy. He will just call them his special dish. Everyone has their own unique dish. Taking the tray in his hand, he walks upstairs with Atlas hot on his tail.
I'm on the roof
You're in your airplane seat
I was nose bleeding
Looking for life, out there
Reading your horoscope
You were just doing cocaine
In my kitchen, you never listen
I hope you're missing me by now
He has been singing his songs for a very long time in the house so Artemis isn’t even phased by it. The moment he opens the door, he sees you leaning on the headboard with your phone in your hand.
“I was about to come down-“ You were cut off by your husband’s singing and you weren’t going to complain. A free Harry Styles concert? Who would say no to that?
If I was a bluebird
I would fly to you
You'd be the spoon
Dip you in honey
So I could be sticking to you
The small shimmy that he does from your door to the bed tempts you to make a video of him. He looked so good in his simple grey joggers with tattoos on display and slightly tousled hair. An epitome of beauty, if someone asks you.
“Hi, baby. What’s all this?”
“Just to show a li’l appreciation for my baby mama.”
“H, what is this?” Looking at the tray, you can’t help but wonder if the food is actually edible.
“This is food tha’ I prepared with m’sweat and blood.”
“Thank you, baby but this doesn’t exactly look edible.”
“Y’have to try it.”
When Atlas comes sits beside you, you realise that your other daughter isn’t anywhere to be seen.
“Harry, where’s Arty?”
A realisation dawns upon him and he exclaims sheepishly, “Oh, that’s wha’ I was forgetting. Be back in a jiff.”
“Till then I’m going to try this out.” A sense of dread fills your stomach as soon as you cut into the steak. It didn’t look well done but you thought that it’ll be okay as you liked it medium-rare anyways.
“This is definitely raw.” Spitting the meat out in to the napkin, you tried to wash the taste down with water.
“Here’s the bub.” Artemis didn’t look up as she was too invested in biting onto his shoulder with the single new tooth that had made its appearance known a few days back. Excitement seeping through his voice, he asked “How’s t’steak?”
“Are you trying to give me salmonella?”
“Darlin’, isn’t that a fish?”
“Harry, it’s a disease.”
“Oh.”
“Please never help our kids with homework.”
Dramatically, he places his hand on his chest in mock offence. Although, he isn’t ashamed to admit that you are the smart one out of you two.
“Try out t’mashed potatoes. They are m’own recipe.”
Looking at him with a silent wonderment, you voiced out your question, “Isn’t there just one recipe for mashed potatoes?”
“Oh hush.” Taking the spoon from your hand, he feeds you a mouthful.
“Harry, it’s too salty!”
“But-“
Cutting him off, she put the tray aside, she pulls him closer, “Don’t fret about the food. Thank you so much for doing this, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too. Let’s go out today and m’mum can take the bubs today.”
“Then maybe when we come home, you can show me your real appreciation.”
“Y’got yourself a deal.”
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Hope you guys enjoyed it!!
A/N: So I have been working on this for a couple of days and @peculiarpenman and @pettinesspersonified have been helping me with it. A big thank you to both of them because they are the ones who do most of the work. I have been currently obsessed with Harry’s album so I added one of my favorite songs into this piece. Hope you guys love it!! Do let me know. Love y’all!!
Like, comment and reblog.
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