Chapter Text
“Harry. Are you awake yet, my dear?”
Harry scowls into the mattress below him.
“No.” He sulks, grouchy with sleepiness. He and Tom had been up late last night, moving boxes into their new house. It was a wonder he had slept on a mattress at all, considering all of their belongings were strewn about the whole three levels of the house.
“No? Well, I guess I’ll have to open these presents all by myself then.”
Harry’s eyes snap open. He sits up, turning to look at his husband, who is standing in his boxers with an armful of small packages, all wrapped in green paper and tied with gold bows. A cup of tea is held in his other hand.
“You found the kettle?” Harry asks, surprised. Tom laughs.
“Of course that’s your first question! One track mind, you are. Here,” He hands the cup over, and Harry uses a box of their clothes as a headboard to sit against as he accepts it. Tom then drops down the handful of beautifully wrapped presents into Harry’s lap, dropping onto his knees to crawl over and sit next to him.
“Happy Birthday, darling.”
“Tom, really, where did you find the time to buy and wrap presents for me amongst all the packing and moving?”
Tom taps the end of his finger against Harry’s nose. “Ah. That’s my secret. Here, this one first.”
He hands Harry a slightly cylindrical present. Harry swaps it for the cup and undoes the bow and ribbon, tearing the paper none too carefully.
“Goggles?” Harry laughs, incredulous. They’re bright, turquoise blue, with little purple dots. Completely hideous. He looks questionably at the man next to him.
As an answer, he gets his next present and a huge, amused grin.
“This one.”
“What are you up to?” Harry asks and but does as he’s told. This one is a pair of flip flops, printed with slices of watermelon.
Next, a pair of swim shorts. Harry is starting to sense a theme.
“Are we going swimming today?” Is all he can guess, until he gets to the last present.
Tom hands it over, gleeful, and Harry slides his thumb under the edge, realising it’s an envelope.
Inside, two long, rectangular pieces of card sit side by side and when Harry slides them out to read, he gasps.
“Tom! What? Really?”
Tom nods, his messy sleep mussed hair flopping about. “Yes, my darling. Like I said, Happy Birthday.”
“Oh my god!”
Harry leaps, tackling Tom onto his back on the mattress, straddling his hips to press kiss after kiss against every spare space of skin. In between each one, he repeats the words ‘thank you, thank you’ over and over again.
Tom laughs and squeezes Harry in his arms to his chest and they rest there happily, breathing in each other's air and surrounded by the boxes of their lives together in their brand new home. Out of the open window, the faint sound of sea gulls and the way the waves roll in and out can be heard, as well as the chatter of the locals enjoying their day on the beach.
And resting at the side of them, on sleek and colourful looking rectangular cards, two plane tickets to the Caribbean. Harry’s dream holiday.
He is happy and content. He is loved.