Coming Home

H.P.O.V

Flushed skin and soft hands. Bright eyes and wide smile. My heart, oh my entire being.

"Baby," Presley is warm and soft. "Darling," she has long dark brown hair. "My love," she has me wrapped around her finger. "Baby, baby love."

"Hazard," she grins, eyes still hazy with sleep. "Baby, baby, my baby, it's much too early." She curls back into herself and rubs her eyes.

"Sweetheart, it's nearly eleven," I tut. "I was hoping you'd get up on your own, my love. But I seem to have forgotten you like to hibernate." I kiss her cheek and gently turn her on her back. "We gotta get up pretty baby."

She lets out a throaty whine, and frowns. "It's my birthday, Harry. Can't I sleep?"

"Well, you could...but first; your birthday is tomorrow and second-- I really want you to eat something. Trying to make you better my love."

Reluctantly she opens her eyes, and sighs. "My God-- you annoy me." She leans up and kisses my cheek. "Let's go eat, Hazard."

"How are you feeling?" I only ask because her face is flushed, and her eyes are dull in a way they never are.

"M'fine...for the most part--"

That got my attention. I can feel myself frown, and my insides begin to churn. "What's wrong? Is it your stomach?"

She sighs and sits up lethargically, hand running through her bed hair. "My stomachs fine. I feel warm, though, and...lazy...but I always feel lazy."

"Maybe we should get you checked out?" And by maybe I mean how fast can I have her dressed? I see her face fall, and I can almost feel her regret for telling me radiating off of her. "Hey, Presley, you know I only want you to be better. M'so happy you told me you're not feeling good, baby. This way I can help you, okay?"

Presley pouts, "But Harry, you want me to go see a doctor and I don't like that. S'why I never tell you."

"I know and you know I don't like that."

"I know," she mumbles with dropped shoulders. "For now I'm fine, Harry. Let's not worry about it yet."

I nod easily, hiding my feelings, "I won't," but right after I'm going to go bat shit crazy. I can already feel it coming on. "But the second I see any sign of trouble--I will drag you to the nearest A&E."

"Okay."

I smile and stand, my hand reaching for Presley's. "Now come. I've made you a nice breakfast my pretty, sweet baby."

"I only want cereal," she groans.

"But I toasted bread, and burnt eggs, and there's pancakes--"

I sit her down at the breakfast bar, trying not to coo and gush at the sluggish way her body moves, and the small yawns that leave her lips. I don't want to freak her out. I don't want to suffocate her. But I do want to hold her, and kiss her, and give her everything she wants.

My fuck, I just want to hold her.

"Tea?"

She shakes her head, "Cereal."

I laugh happy, and warm. "Coffee?"

"Cereal."

"Pancakes?"

"Cereal."

It's so hard not to smile when Presley is adorable and stubborn. It's so hard not to feel tingly and healed.

"Kiss?"

"Cerea-- wait...yes," she smiles and holds her arms open. Walking into them is like Christamas, with my birthday on the side. It's like winter rain, and summer sun. "Cereal after."

"Cereal after," I promise, hands rubbing up and down her arms. "First kiss and love. Lots of love." My face is inches away, only bringing me pain. "Maybe a few more kisses and then cereal."
****

Presley's upstairs saying she'd only be comfortable in a bed. I think it's her way of trying to sneak a nap in. And that's cute. Like, a new baby puppy kind of cute.

And because I want to see if she needs anything (and not because I'm a needy bastard and want to be around her-- because I'm not) I decide to go check on her and automatically shiver. "Presley, it's freezing in here. Why is the window open? You'll get sick baby."

"It's hot as fuck, Harry."

"Sweetheart it's forty degrees outside, and it's about to begin raining. The window is wide open, and I think-- you've got the air blasted." I walk closer, and my heart begins to beat rapidly when I see the flush in her cheeks and the moister on her forehead. "Oh baby, do you feel hot?"

"I don't feel so good," it comes out as half a whimper, and my mind begins to turn. Okay. Okay. Okay. How far away is the nearest A&E? "Harry, I think...I think I'm dying." I shouldn't find that cute. Oh God I really shouldn't. But I do. I find it fucking adorable the way her eyes widen in horror, and her mouth frowns small and innocent.

"Baby--"

"Holly fuck I'm dying...or maybe, I'm starting menopause?"

"Pres--"

"Death by heat is not okay, Harry! People are going to think I'm a loser!"

"Sweetheart, I need you to breathe and tell me what else is bothering you." One of us needs to remain rational and sane. One of us needs to remember how to use a phone just in case. "Does your stomach hurt?"

"A little..." She looks down sadly. "I think it was Ben's cookies."

"Pres--oh, baby why are you sad?"

"Because Ben tried so hard to make them really good, and they've made me sick, and Ben's going to be disappointed."

I try not to show a fond smile, and I know I'm failing when I feel my face stretch. I close the window and sit at her side, reaching for her. She slides until she's cradled on my lap, head low and steady. My fingers begin to toy with her hair. "Why don't we see if your meds can help you feel better, yeah? That way Ben won't find out?"

"But I'm trying to stop needing them Harry, and if I take them now, I'll have to start all over," Presley explains horrified. She looks up and frowns. "Can't I just tough it out?"

"Baby, you're boiling up and your tummy ache is only going to get worse if you don't take your medicine. M'sorry brown eyes, I don't see anyway around this."

"But it's my birthday tomorrow."

I feel half a ton of guilt when I hear the tone of her voice. All I want to do is promise she'll never have to be subjected to anymore of those ugly colored, weird tasting vitamins. But right now that's not possible, and she needs to take them before she gets worse, and I begin to panic.

I kiss her head and sigh, "I want you to enjoy your birthday tomorrow, sweetheart. You won't be able to if
you feel gross."

"Harry--"

"You're not going to change my mind," not if I know I'm doing this so she'll be okay. So she'll be able to enjoy her big day tomorrow and not have to remember the stomach ache and heat flashes from today too. "Baby, I don't want to fight. Let's just see how you feel with one pill. If it helps we'll stop there. If not we'll decide what to do then, okay?"

Presley sighs and sits up. "Fine," she murmurs giving in, making it clear this is not her first choice. "But tomorrow-- at my 'surprise' birthday--"

"How did you--"

"Ben can't keep a secret from me," she states proudly. "He's really excited for this birthday." She shrugs and leans back back to cuddle.

"All the more reason to take your medicine and not be upset with me."

"I guess." There's a pout in her voice, and I know I've won.

"I love you," it's not hard to tell, and it's too easy to say. So easy. "I love you so much, and you're going to take your medicine, and then we'll take a nap, and fuck-- that's it. That's all I want to do with you."

Presley hums, and nuzzles closer, despite the heat coursing through her.

"I'm going to ask you something and you only have one choice, okay?"

"Hmm?" Presley looks and smiles softly. "S'not really a choice if I only have one."

"True but oh well," I shrug and try to gather up all of my courage into one spot. I try not to back out, and let me fear of rejection get in the way. I move the hair away from her face. Here goes..."Will you move in with me?"

Presley looks up startled. Like she thinks she heard worng. Her eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"Will you live with me? Like move your stuff in here, sleep here, and eat, and shower, and call this home? I love you and I just--I really want to live with you." I can't say this and not be nervous if I'm moving too fast, or that she's not ready. I only want to her to move in and know that when she tells people she's going home, that she means she'll be coming here to me. "I want to live with you, Presley. I want you to tell people this is your home, because it is."

"Harr--"

"Baby, I want you here. Please? I'll do anything."

"I don-- fuck, I can't--" Presley's stumbling with her words, and my chest feels a slight pain.

"No?" Oh shit, I think I'm about to cry.

"I can't," Presley shakes her head, and looks down sadly. "I'm really sorry, Harry. But I can't."

And yeah. I think I'm about to cry.

Fuck.

Notes

And yes. Yes I get sad sometimes.