Work Text:
Harry Warden:
He’d likely not give much reaction to it. He’d secretly be super glad you feel comfortable enough around him to sleep. Especially if you have trouble sleeping like he does. He might brush your hair out of your face if you have any. He wouldn’t do anything that would risk waking you up unless he had to. He’d probably just sit, and stare straight ahead, his thoughts going 100 klicks.
It happened after a long, and exhausting day. The day started with a snow warning. No more than a couple centimeters, but enough to make you groan in annoyance at the prospect of having to salt the driveway, and grab out the snow shovel. You knew ‘only a couple centimeters’ usually meant more than what was predicted. It was the first snow of the season, afterall. Anything could happen. Luckily you hadn’t changed your snow tires since last winter, so your car was prepared. Harry offered to take over salting duties when he saw you halling up the bucket and shovel.
You made your commute to work soon after. Shrugging on a thick, lined coat, and some work-appropriate winter boots, you made your way out the house, and into your car. When you got to work, your coworkers were fighting about something, and you were caught in the crossfire. It was sorta resolved by the end of the day, but dealing with that took an emotional toll on you. To add insult to injury, you were caught in traffic. Apparently you were right about the snow, and a powerline got knocked down from the weight of it. It took about an hour to get home, and by then it was really storming out. All you wanted to do was sleep. You were grumpy, and exhausted, and oh, so excited to go curl up on your bed and bring this day to an end. The driveway was salted, but it wasn’t enough to satiate the snow. It was beginning to get slushy.
With a sigh, you dragged a mitten-clad hand over your face, wondering if you’d get snowed in, and miss work. Part of you really hoped so, but you had to make money somehow unfortunately.
When you stepped inside, you were greeted with the warm, wafting scent of firewood. It seemed like Harry kept himself busy. The house was abnormally dark. You glanced around to check if any lights were on at all. Ah, the power’s out. You breathed in, taking your toque off, and running your hand through your scalp. You did not want to deal with a power outage. Not right now, at least. You weren’t in the right headspace to do so. I should’ve known when I saw the powerline. You kicked your boots off, and sharply drew out a breath. You were okay now. You had Harry to hang out with. No more work, no more drama.
As expected, Harry was in the livingroom, crouching by the woodstove. It seemed like he was fueling the fire. “Glad I chopped firewood a couple days ago,” he murmured, watching the amber flames flicker, and lick at the wood. It smelt of pine and maple.
“How long has the power been out?” You asked, plopping on the chesterfield. When he was satisfied with the fire, he sat down beside you.
“Don’t know. Couple hours, maybe?”
“Damn. I got stuck in traffic for a while. Fallen powerline. That must’ve been it.”
He gave you a thoughtful hum in response. “How was work?”
You sighed, and he glanced sideways at you. “Tough?”
“Don’t even get me started on it,” you groaned.
It didn’t take much to get you to vent about your coworkers stupid kerfuffle. A chuckle escaped his mouth as he moved to grab a couple blankets that lay half haphazardly on the edge of the couch, and wrapped them around the two of you. You let out a dramatic sigh, as you leaned your head on the crook of his neck. “It was awful.”
“Sounds like it,” he mused.
“And our boss did nothing about it even though they were distracting everyone! He just essentially told me it was up to me. Like, who does that?”
He let out a couple ‘tsks’ of disapproval. “A shit boss.”
You hummed in agreement, breathing in the comforting scent of Harry. He smelt of firewood, and his shampoo. “Did you shower?”
“Yeah, this morning after salting the driveway.”
“You smell good.” You nestled your face deeper into his shoulder, closing your eyes. Heat seemed to radiate off of him. He was like your personal furnace. “You’re warm,” your voice came out soft and husky. You didn’t hear Harry’s response, if he responded at all, too busy focusing on his warmth to care.
Your chest began to swell. You knew that no matter what, Harry would always be there for you.
Harry glanced over at your figure. You’d gone quiet a couple minutes ago. It did not surprise him to find your resting figure, mouth slightly agape, chest rising and falling in steady, peaceful, breaths. He smiled to himself, using his free hand to brush a couple strands of hair out of your face. For the most part, he stared straight ahead, only turning to look at you when you moved, or the glance at the fireplace. He felt strangely content, a light, airy, feeling blooming in his chest. He could live like this forever.