#ukyt

Harry tells them very clearly. “Don’t go in the living room.”

He says it before filming starts, while everyone’s milling about and Ethan’s already trying to wind him up. He says it again when cameras are rolling, and people are scouting out hiding spots. 

“She’s knackered, she’s travelled, she’s not part of the video,” Harry insists, pointing vaguely down the hall. “Leave her alone.”

Naturally, that means the living room becomes the most attractive hiding spot in the house. 

You’re curled up on the sofa with one of Harry’s hoodies on – the soft grey one that smells like him – legs tucked underneath you, phone in hand, only half watching whatever’s on the telly. You can hear the chaos echoing through the house: drawers slamming, whispered arguments, Ethan laughing too loudly.

You smile to yourself. 

You haven’t seen Harry properly in weeks. Long-distance does that thing where it makes the mundane feel precious – sitting on his sofa, wearing his clothes, existing in the same space without a screen between you. 

The door creaks open. 

“Shh, shh, shh.” 

You look up just in time to see Simon, Ethan, and Tobi practically falling into the room, eyes wide and panicked. 

“What are you-” you start.

Ethan presses a finger to his lips. “Hide and seek.”

Simon grins. “We’ll be quiet.”

They absolutely will not be quiet. 

Before you can argue, they scatter – Simon crouches behind the armchair, Tobi squeezes himself awkwardly behind the curtains, and Ethan… Just lies flat on the floor behind the sofa like that’s a normal decision. 

You blink. “Harry said-”

“We know,” Simon whispers. “But we haven’t seen you in ages.”

As if summoned by your conversation, footsteps approach in the hallway.

Your heart jumps anyway. 

The door opens again, and Harry slips inside, closing it carefully behind him like he’s sneaking into a secret. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, instantly soft, eyes lighting up when he sees you. “You alright?”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah.”

He crosses the room in three long strides, dropping down beside you without a second thought. One arm curls around your shoulders, pulling you into his side like it’s muscle memory. 

He presses a kiss to your temple. Then another. Then one to your cheek.

Behind the sofa, Ethan bites his fist to stop the laughter. 

“You having fun?” Harry asks quietly, thumb brushing over your arm. 

“Mm”, you say. “Your mates are being loud.” 

He huffs a laugh. “Tell me about it.” 

Simon watches in disbelief as Harry leans in again, forehead resting against yours now, his voice dropping even softer. 

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

“I know,” you reply gently. “I missed you, too.”

Harry exhales, like he’s been holding that in all day. He kisses you properly this time – slow and familiar, like he’s grounding himself.

Tobi has to look away. 

Harry pulls back just enough to smile at you, nose brushing yours. “I’ll win this, you know.”

“You say that every time.”

“And I’m right every time.”

He grins, kisses you again, then finally – finally – stands up.

“I’ll come back,” he whispers, like a promise. 

The door clicks shut. 

The room explodes into silent hysteria. 

“Oh my god,” Simon breathes. “He didn’t see us.”

“He kissed her THREE TIMES,” Ethan whispers harshly. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Tobi shakes his head. “He’s got it bad.”

Two minutes pass with you chatting and catching up with the guys, then the door opens again. 

Harry slips back in like he forgot something. 

He goes straight to you again. 

“I forgot to ask,” he says softly, hand resting on your knee. “Do you want to get food after this?”

Simon squeezes his eyes shut. 

You laugh quietly. “Yes.”

“Cool,” Harry says, relieved. He leans down, kisses you once more – quick, sweet - then pauses. “One more.” 

He kisses you again.

Behind the armchair, Simon silently mouths this is ridiculous.

Harry finally straightens up, completely oblivious, and leaves the room. 

The second the door shuts, Ethan sits up. “I’m telling him.”

Simon snorts. “He’ll be mortified.”

Tobi smiles fondly. “Nah. He’s in love.”

When Harry eventually bursts back into the living room later, triumphant and smug- 

-and finds all three of them staring at him-

“You lot hid in here,” he realises slowly. 

Simon grins. “Yeah.”

Ethan adds, “You kissed her like four times.”

Harry freezes.

Then he groans, covering his face, “You’re joking.”

You laugh, tugging his sleeve until he drops back onto the sofa beside you. He wraps an arm around you immediately, burying his face in your hair. 

The wedding venue is buzzing with energy as you make your way through the crowd, searching for Alfie. The evening sun casts a golden glow over the garden, illuminating the fairy lights strung between trees. You spot him immediately, he’s unmistakable even from a distance, broad shoulders straining slightly against the fitted navy suit jacket he's wearing. His curly brunette hair catches the light, styled perfectly as usual, and you can see the hint of his small moustache and slight beard even from across the lawn.

"There she is," Chip calls out, spotting you first. He turns to Alfie with a grin. "Your mrs has arrived, mate."

Alfie turns, his green eyes lighting up when they land on you. "Girl, where've you been?" he asks, his voice carrying that familiar roadman esque vibe that makes your stomach flutter. He opens his arms, and you practically run into them, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against yours.

"Got caught up helping Sabina with her dress emergency," you explain, pulling back slightly to look up at him. His defined arms wrap around you securely, making you feel safe and cherished.

"Typical," Alfie chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Always sorting everyone else's dramas out, you look gorgeous darlin’."

The ceremony is beautiful, Sabina looks absolutely radiant as she walks down the aisle, and Chips dark eyes shine with emotion as he watches her approach. You squeeze Alfie's hand during the vows, feeling a surge of emotion yourself, tears welling in your eyes. When they're pronounced married, the cheer from the crowd is deafening.

At the reception, you find yourself seated at a table with Alfie, Chris, Bach, Arthur, Cal, Harry, and Stan. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional clinking of glasses.

"I still can't believe Chip is married," Chris says, shaking his head. "And I’ve not got a girlfriend yet."

"I’m sure Shannon’ll still have you if you’ll take her mate," Arthur replies, swirling the champagne in his glass. 

"Found himself a proper rocket, didn't he? Makes two of us." Alfie teases, grinning at you, earning a playful shove from you and bellowing laughs from those around you. 

You smile at his stupid words, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Alfie catches your eye and winks, causing your cheeks to flush slightly.

When the dancing starts, Alfie pulls you onto the floor, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as you sway to the music. "You look like a little fucken tart tonight, girl," he grins drunkenly mucking around in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

"Yeah I'd look sexier in white at one of these things," you reply, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger. "That suit was made for those shoulders."

He laughs, a deep rumble that you feel more than hear. "Fuck off reader, you’ll get a ring one day, and that day’s not soon. Maybe I should start wearing suits more often then."

As the night progresses, the DJ announces it's time for the bouquet toss. Sabina takes center stage, turning her back to the crowd of eager women.

"All the single ladies, make some noise!" the DJ booms, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

You stay toward the back of the group, leaning against a table with a glass of wine in hand. You're not one for these kinds of traditions, and besides, you're hardly single.

"Come on, girl!" Flo calls, beckoning you forward, she's dating Arthur herself so seeing her in the flock of girls made it slightly more tempting. "Get in there!"

You shake your head with a laugh. "No thanks, I'm good right here."

Alfie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "What you doing all the way back here, then? Shouldn't you be up there fighting for the bouquet?" he teases.

You lean back into his embrace. "I think I'll leave that to the desperate ones, I've no need when I have you." you reply with a smirk. 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Good. Don't want you getting any ideas about rushing me to the altar."

Sabina counts down, and with a final "three, two, one!" she tosses the bouquet over her shoulder. You watch as it arcs through the air, seeming to move in slow motion. The women in front of you jump and reach, but somehow, the bouquet sails right over their heads, landing directly in your outstretched hand, the one you'd casually raised to take a sip of wine.

For a moment, there's stunned silence. Then, the room erupts.

"No way!" Liv shrieks, pointing at you. "You didn't even try!"

You look down at the flowers in your hand, then up at Alfie, whose jaw has dropped.

"Oh for fucks sake, reader how has this–," he says, his eyes wide. "What did I just say about not getting any ideas?"

Before you can respond, you're surrounded by their friends, all talking at once.

"It's a sign!" Chris declares, slapping Alfie on the back. "You're next, mate!" that earned a few snickers and taunts from everyone telling chris he is just ‘mad it’s not him.’

"Properly next," George adds, grinning. "That bouquet practically came in on her. Good luck for paying with the wedding, this one's expensive. Youngla is gonna have to do a bit more than give commission for an ad."

Alfie groans, burying his face in his hands. "I take it all back. You lot are worse than my mum."

"Admit it, mate," Cal says, nudging Alfie with his elbow. "You're thinking about it now, aren't you?"

"Thinking about how I'm going to kill you lot, more like," Alfie retorts, though there's no real heat in his voice.

You can't help but laugh at his predicament. "Don't worry, baby," you whisper in his ear. "I'm not booking a venue just yet."

He looks at you, relief warring with something else in his green eyes. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, although I am a little offended, you really don’t wanna marry me?" you reply, mock upset, pouting, holding up the bouquet as evidence.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not about you angel, could never be about you. It’s about the timin’, and now is not the time” Alfie softly chuckles, holding you against his chest.

The teasing continues throughout the night, with various friends stopping by your table to offer their congratulations, and their unsolicited advice about wedding planning, even their baby name ideas which really earn a scoff from Alfie’s face.

"Should start looking at venues now if you want to get married next year," Bach advises seriously, his arms wrapped around a giggling Liv. "Good ones book up fast."

"Or you could just elope," Flo suggests, Arthur nods eagerly amused next to her and chimes in. "Way less hassle."

"Nah you gotta do it proper," George counters. "We’ll get Vikk to perform a DJ set, although you’d have to make it a kid friendly wedding if you actually want guests to come."

Through it all, Alfie maintains a good natured grumbling, though you catch him looking at you with a soft expression when he thinks you're not paying attention.

As the evening winds down, you find yourselves sitting together at a quieter table away from the main crowd.

"You know," Alfie says, taking your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "When I said not to get any ideas..."

You look at him expectantly. "Yeah?"

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I didn't mean never. Just... not yet, yeah?"

Your heart does a little flip at his words. "I know," you reply softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. "Because I'm planning on keeping you around for a long time, girl."

As you leave the wedding, hand in hand, the bouquet still clutched in your other hand, you can't help but smile at the irony. You hadn't wanted to participate in the tradition, yet somehow, it had found you anyway. And as Alfie squeezes your hand, you think that maybe, just maybe, the tradition had known something you hadn't, that this man beside you, with his silly little vlogs, was indeed your future.

"So," Alfie says as you reach the car, breaking the comfortable silence. "What are you going to do with that bouquet?"

You look down at the flowers, then back at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. "I was thinking I might press it. You know, as a reminder."

He raises an eyebrow. "A reminder of what?"

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. "That even when I'm not trying, fate still knows we're meant to be."

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine in the night air. "Cheeky," he murmurs, lowering his head to kiss you again. "But you're not wrong."

“I love you, reader” Alfie mutters, staring into your eyes, his expression melting at your face, your eyes looking up at him.

“Are you gonna propose now? Is this it? Why aren’t you on one knee?” You teased, fake squealing and jumping

Chaos had well and truly commenced.

Round after round, drink after drink, mystery challenge after mystery challenge, nobody seemed capable of staying quiet for longer than five minutes.

Every few moments, another table would erupt into cheers or groans, followed almost immediately by someone insisting the game was rigged in their favour or against it.

Your team, somehow, was doing well.

Mostly because Tobi seemed to have developed an unnatural ability to spot numbers before they even properly registered on the screen.

The moment one appeared, he was already leaning forward.

“We’ve got that.”

“Tobi, this is getting ridiculous,” Becky laughed as she marked another square.

“I’m just efficient.”

“Of course, it’s literally thee TobJZL,” Pie added, though he was smiling into his drink.

Tobi sat back like he’d just been crowned champion of something far more important than bingo.

Across the room, another team erupted into cheers, followed instantly by loud, dramatic protests from somewhere else. The entire venue never really settled; it just shifted between different bursts of noise...

You found yourself smiling at it all without really thinking, resting your chin in your hand.

The drinks didn’t help.

Not in a way that made anything unclear or blurry.

Just in a way that made everything feel slightly softer at the edges. Easier to drift through. The loud voices around you started to blend into a warm, comfortable background track.

You took another slow sip of your drink, feeling the cool liquid hit your throat, and leaned back slightly in your chair.

Across the room, Harry’s table was in its usual state of controlled chaos.

George and Bach were deep in yet another argument about whether the system was “emotionally biased,” while Arthur looked like he had accepted that logic was no longer required for participation.

Harry was laughing through all of it.

He wasn't trying to steer the conversation. He wasn't really contributing to the argument.

He was just enjoying it—properly enjoying it—throwing his head back like the whole thing was the absolute best part of being there.

It made you smile before you even realised you were doing it, your gaze lingering on the way his eyes crinkled.

“Got it.”

Becky’s voice pulled you back as the sharp clack of the marker hit the table.

You blinked, shaking yourself out of the daze, and glanced down. “Already?”

“You were looking elsewhere,” she said simply, her eyes tracking the screen as she spoke, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“I was multitasking.”

“Sure you were.”

Tobi didn’t even look up from the card, his finger tracing the grid. “We’re two numbers away.”

That pulled your attention back in properly. The competitive spark finally nudged its way through the alcohol.

For a while, you actually tried.

You followed the screen. The calls. The reactions around the table.

You leaned forward when everyone else did.

You marked things when Becky told you to.

It almost worked.

Almost.

But the room was too loud, too vibrant, to fully settle into. There were too many things happening at once, pulling at your senses.

A sudden shout from another table pulled your attention sideways.

A loud cheer from somewhere else followed it a second later.

Then laughter — Harry’s distinct, wheezing laugh echoing over the music. His table was briefly visible between people moving around the venue, a pocket of bright energy in the crowded room.

You didn’t turn fully this time.

Just caught it in passing.

Enough to register the sound.

Not enough to completely lose track of everything else on your own table.

Still, Becky noticed the half-second delay.

She didn’t comment immediately.

She just slid the pen back across the table, her fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against the wood, and continued watching the screen.

A few beats later, she glanced side-long at you again.

Not annoyed.

Just… noting it.

Like she’d quietly started keeping count of something else entirely.

Tobi marked another number off the card with a flourish.

“We’re actually flying through this,” he said, leaning back slightly in his chair like he was inspecting his own masterpiece.

 You laughed quietly, the sound muffled by the ambient noise of the room, your eyes still half-focused on the board.

For a moment, it almost felt like you were fully back in it.

Almost.

“Got it,” Becky said again, already reaching for the marker before Tobi even had a chance to react.

You blinked, looking between the card and her. “Wait—how are you both seeing these so fast?”

“We’re paying attention,” Tobi said, throwing a playful look your way.

“I am paying attention.”

Becky gave you a look, her eyebrows raised, without actually looking away from the screen.

“That’s not what I’m seeing.”

You frowned, shifting in your seat. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Tobi added lightly, his tone teasing, “you’ve got a delay.”

“I don’t have a delay.”

“You do,” Becky said simply.

“I don’t.”

A beat.

The neon lights pulsed overhead, casting long shadows across the table. Becky finally turned her head slightly toward you, letting her marker rest.

“You do a thing.”

“I don’t do a thing.”

“You do,” Tobi nodded, chiming in seamlessly. “It’s consistent.”

You narrowed your eyes at them, trying to look serious. “What thing?”

Becky didn’t answer straight away.

Instead, another number boomed through the speakers, and both of them reacted instantly, their eyes darting to the card.

You were a fraction slower.

Not enough to lose the point entirely.

Just enough for Becky to notice the hesitation again.

“There,” she said, marking it with a definitive click.

“I was literally right behind you.”

“Emotionally behind us too,” Tobi added with a grin.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is now,” Becky said.

You shook your head again, but you were smiling, the warmth of the room catching up to you.

Across the room, another massive burst of noise went up from the far tables.

Your head instinctively turned—

You caught yourself halfway.

Stopped.

Looked straight back at the card like you had just narrowly avoided a crime, staring hard at the little printed squares.

Too late.

Becky had already seen the movement out of the corner of her eye.

Tobi had too.

There was a long, deliberate pause at the table.

Then Tobi leaned back in his chair slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I think we should start charging her for every time she looks over there.”

You gasped, your jaw dropping slightly. “Excuse me?”

Becky hummed in agreement, tapping her chin. “We could increase team funding. Buy another round.”

“I am right here,” you protested, looking between the two of them.

“You are,” Tobi agreed, his smile widening. “Just… intermittently.”

“I am fully present.”

Becky finally turned to look at you properly now, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand.

“Are you though?”

“Yes.”

A beat.

Another number was called out by the announcer.

You didn’t look this time. You kept your eyes glued to the center of the table.

You were proud of that.

Genuinely.

Until Tobi spoke again, his voice dropping to a casual, conversational whisper.

“Harry’s laughing again.”

Immediately, your head turned.

Instantly.

Without permission from your brain.

There was a sudden, heavy silence at your table.

You froze, your eyes locking onto Harry's table for a split second before you realized what you'd done.

Slowly, you turned your head back around.

Becky was already smiling, holding back a laugh.

Tobi was biting his lip, trying desperately not to break.

You stared at them, your cheeks warming up under the pink lights.

“…That doesn’t count.”

Becky tilted her head, her smile spreading. “It absolutely counts.”

“It was informational,” Tobi added helpfully.

“I hate both of you.”

Becky reached for her drink, finally letting the full smile show now as she lifted the glass to her lips.

“We’re just saying,” she said lightly, the ice clinking softly against the glass, “you’ve got very fast reaction times…”

Another number flashed up on the big screens.

Becky marked it instantly, her hand moving without hesitation. Tobi followed a second later with a nod, checking it off his own mental tracker.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your hands on the sticky wood of the table, already trying to refocus your attention when the loud announcement suddenly cut through the room.

“Right — mystery challenge!”

The entire venue shifted at once, a collective wave of movement and chatter rising as the neon lights began to pulse a deeper shade of purple.

Becky turned to you immediately. Her expression changed, turning less focused on the card and more on you as a slow grin spread across her face.

“Ooo, go on then.”

You blinked, pointing a finger at your own chest. “Me?”

“Yes,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tobi nodded from across the table, leaning back in his chair. “You should go.”

“I should?”

“Yeah,” Becky said, already smiling. “You’ll be good at it.”

You hesitated, looking at the marker still in your hand. “Based on what exactly?”

“Vibes,” Tobi replied.

“That’s not a qualification.”

“It is here,” Becky said, shifting in her seat and standing slightly now to give you room.

Across the table, Pie gave a lazy thumbs up, his eyes crinkling as he took a sip of his drink. “Go on. Represent us.”

You looked between all of them, completely outnumbered. “You’re all just sending me up there?”

Becky laughed softly, the sound almost lost to the bass of the room. “We’re not sending you. We’re encouraging you.”

“That is the same thing.”

“No it isn’t,” Tobi said.

“It is emotionally,” you muttered.

Becky leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was letting you in on a secret over the roar of the crowd. “Honestly, it’s perfect timing. You’ve been way too locked in on the wrong things anyway.”

“I have not.”

“You have,” she said gently, her eyes darting briefly toward the other side of the room before she smiled back at you. “Go. Have fun with it.”

Tobi pointed a finger toward the front of the venue where a small crowd of people was already starting to line up by the stage. “Plus it’ll be chaos. You’ll like it.”

You hesitated for a second longer, the pink neon light catching the edge of your glass. Then the noise of the room rose again — laughter, movement, chairs shifting against the floorboards, people calling out to each other as they got up. And somehow, that decided it.

“…Fine.”

Becky immediately lit up. “Yes.”

Tobi nodded approvingly, crossing his arms. “Good choice.”

Pie clapped once, a short, sharp sound. “Proud of you.”

You stood up, still half-protesting under your breath, but already being gently waved forward by the encouraging hands of your own table.

“I hate you all.”

But you were already walking forward, joining the rest of the selected players weaving through the crowded gaps between the tables. And as you moved through the shifting crowd toward the front—

Your attention flickered, just for a second, across the room.

Harry was already right there among the rest of the group on stage — just another person caught up in the same chaos, like this was completely normal.

And somehow, that made it easier.

“Hi,” you said, almost under your breath as you stepped closer.

Harry turned immediately. A grin appeared on his face the second he saw you, looking like nothing about this was unusual at all. “Hello.”

You didn’t even think about it before closing the small gap between you. The hug was quick — natural, easy. One arm each, a brief squeeze, like it was just something that happened without needing permission.

“Well look who decided to participate,” he said as you pulled back slightly, his hand lingering for a fraction of a second.

“I didn’t choose to,” you replied immediately.

“Sure.”

“I didn’t.”

“I believe you,” he said, not sounding like he did at all.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. Around you, the rest of the group was shifting into place, laughing, talking, settling into that familiar pre-challenge chaos. Before either of you could add anything else, Simon’s voice cut through the room.

“Right — listen up everyone!”

Neither of you fully let go straight away. You stayed in that half-second of contact, still half-facing each other, while the room slowly shifted into attention around you. Simon continued explaining the rules, gesturing as he spoke about a rock paper scissors tournament. Fast rounds. Immediate elimination. Simple enough that everyone was already nodding along.

Still half in the hug, Harry glanced toward the front. “This is going to be chaos.”

“It always is,” you said.

A small laugh left him. Only then did the two of you properly separate — not abruptly, just naturally as attention tightened across the stage.

You barely had time to settle before Simon was already speaking again. “Right — everyone pick someone. Rock paper scissors. Winners move on.”

The stage erupted instantly. Fast rounds, loud reactions, and people dropping out almost as quickly as they stepped forward. It stopped feeling like separate matches after a while, narrowing down exactly how everyone expected it to until it was obvious, even before Simon said it over the microphone.

“Right,” Simon sighed, looking between the two of you. “Of course it’s you two.”

The room erupted immediately. You let out a small laugh, turning slightly to find Harry already looking at you, still smiling.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Simon raised a hand, and the noise dipped just slightly — enough for the moment to land. You stepped forward, Harry did too, and the rest of the stage blurred into background noise. Just the two of you now.

"Rock. Paper. Scissors."

Instant. You played. A beat.

Then—"I win!"

The room exploded. Harry immediately laughed, shaking his head as he stepped back. "Course you do," he said, the defeat fading into a proud, effortless smile as he looked at you.

You blinked, staring down at your own hand like the reality hadn't fully caught up yet. "...I actually won that."

"Yeah," he nodded, stepping closer to nudge your shoulder playfully. "You did."

Simon pointed a finger toward you through the roaring noise, his voice booming over the microphone. "Right—your team gets to pick a number!"

You caught Becky’s frantic signaling from across the room and called out, "Number Fifty-eight!"

The venue reacted immediately with a massive wave of cheers, groans, and shouts of disbelief. And then—

"HIJINGO!"

Your table erupted into absolute madness. Becky's voice sliced clean through the ambient noise even from a distance, screaming, "I KNEW SHE'D GET IT!" while Tobi threw his hands up, laughing hysterically at the sheer luck of it all.

On stage, Harry looked down at you, his eyes crinkling. "Not bad."

You gave him a small, satisfied look, soaking in the high. "Obviously."

Before heading back down, Harry gave your arm a quick, affectionate squeeze—a private beat of warmth amidst the loud chaos—before you both parted ways to return to your respective sides. You practically floated back to your table, met with high-fives from Pie and triumphant cheering from Becky and Tobi. For a couple of rounds, the adrenaline kept you completely locked into the cards, matching Tobi's hyper-focus number for number.

But the peak of the excitement eventually began to cool.

As the next few rounds ticked by, the game slowly settled back into its usual, rhythmic chaos. Numbers continued to be called, teams celebrated, and George—predictably—resumed his ongoing, passionate argument that the entire venue had a personal vendetta against him.

And that was when your attention, warm and slightly fuzzy from the drinks, began to drift across the room again.

Somewhere along the way, you completely stopped making a conscious effort to stay at your own table.

At first, Becky had been strict about it. She had marched over, physically guided you back by the shoulders, and reminded you that they still had a game to win. You had sat down, taken an obedient sip of your drink, and stared hard at the card. But the alcohol was making the room feel too warm, and Harry's table had a gravitational pull you couldn't fight. Less than ten minutes later, you had drifted right back.

This time, Becky didn't follow. Across the room, you caught her catching Tobi’s eye, pointing a finger at your empty chair, and dramatically dropping her head into her hands. They had officially given up on you.

Completely liberated, you stepped up right behind Harry’s chair, letting one hand settle absent-mindedly onto his shoulder.

Harry didn’t even look up, completely unfazed by your sudden reappearance. Arthur was in the middle of a sentence, George was still complaining, and the game roared on around you, but Harry’s hand instantly lifted from the table. Without a word, his fingers slipped between yours, locking your hands together like muscle memory.

To be fair, the boys had seen this happen countless times. Whenever the group went out drinking, there always came a point in the night where you became significantly more attached to Harry’s side than your own.

You stood there for a few minutes, contentedly swaying to the music, before gently nudging his shoulder. "Harry."

He finally looked up, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Hm?"

You looked at him, then eyed the crowded, occupied chairs around the table, and then looked back down at him with a sleepy pout. "Can I sit here?"

A soft smile immediately tugged at his lips. "Yeah, sure baby."

Harry gave your hand a small tug, guiding you down until you settled comfortably onto his lap. His free arm wrapped naturally around your waist, your legs sideways across his lap. 

"Comfortable?" he murmured against your hair.

You hummed happily, resting your head on his chest. "Very."

"Good."

And that was that. Across the venue, Becky slowly lowered her glass, watching you completely dissolve into George's latest dramatic story. She nudged Tobi, pointing with her chin, before gesturing to Pie—who was currently engaged in a very passionate conversation that seemed to be making perfect sense to him and absolutely nobody else.

"Yeah," Tobi laughed, taking a sip of his own drink as Pie joined in on a random cheer across the room. "She's gone, and he's completely tuned out. We're the only two left."

Across the room, the game had officially become background noise—at least for you. George was already in the middle of another joke, fully committed to a bit that seemed to get more ridiculous every time he opened his mouth. Arthur was laughing, Bach was laughing, and unfortunately, so were you.

“You cannot seriously think that’s true,” Arthur said through a laugh.

“It is true.”

“It’s literally not.”

“It absolutely is.”

George looked around the table like he was expecting support. Your hand immediately shot up. “I agree with George.”

“Thank you,” George said instantly.

Harry looked up briefly. “You don’t even know what he’s talking about.”

“Don’t need to.”

“That’s concerning.”

You pointed at George. “He’s got conviction.”

“Exactly!” George said.

Arthur laughed harder. Harry just shook his head before looking back down at the card in front of him.

One hand resting on the table. The other still loosely wrapped around your waist. Not because he was paying particular attention to it. Just because at some point you’d ended up there and neither of you had thought to move.

“You are encouraging him,” Harry informed you.

“I think he’s funny.”

“He already knows that.”

“Good.”

George looked delighted. Harry looked significantly less delighted. You grinned before settling further against his chest.

For a moment, Harry glanced down at you. Then at the nearly forgotten card in front of him. Then back at you.

“You’re supposed to be helping your own team, you know.”

You tilted your head. “My team seems fine.”

Harry snorted. “Right.”

And despite the fact that George was still talking, Arthur was still laughing, and numbers were still being called somewhere in the background—

Neither of you moved.

A few moments later, another drink appeared on the table.

Your eyes immediately lit up.

Harry noticed.

Unfortunately.

The second your hand reached for it, his got there first. His fingers closed around the glass before you could even touch it.

"Harry."

"No."

You stared at him. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I absolutely do."

You frowned. He looked entirely unconvinced.

Without another word, he slid the drink slightly further away, out of your reach, before reaching for the glass of water beside him. The one that had been sitting there mostly untouched for the last hour.

"Drink."

You looked down at it. Then back at him. Then back at the water.

"You're no fun."

"Drink."

Arthur laughed. George pointed at Harry immediately. "He's doing that thing."

"What thing?" you asked.

"The protective boyfriend thing."

"I am not," Harry said.

"You are."

"I'm literally not."

Bach was already laughing. Meanwhile, Harry simply continued holding the glass of water out towards you. Waiting. Patiently. Like he already knew how this was ending.

With a dramatic sigh, you finally took it from his hand.

"There we go."

You narrowed your eyes, taking a slow sip. Harry looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Satisfied, he returned his attention back to the card in front of him. One hand resting on the table. The other found its way back around your waist without a second thought.

The game carried on around you. Numbers continued being called. Teams continued celebrating and complaining in equal measure.

yourusername

liked by sabinablair_, glambyflo, and others

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👥 alfiebuttle

view comments…

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alfiebuttle

liked by theburntchip, sabinablair_, and others

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liked by alfiebuttle, livvydimartino, and others

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👥 alfiebuttle

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