Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.
I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.
Harry is predictable.
He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.
The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.
His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.
YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.
It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.
Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.
Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”
And then the one percent, which was today.
The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”
She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.
YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”
“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.
“Stop makin’ so much noise.”
“Turn off tha’ light.”
“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”
She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.
When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”
Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.
YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.
She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.
It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.
YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.
However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.
It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.
She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”
Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.
There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.
The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.
And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.
His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.
“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.
“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.
“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”
YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”
“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.
“You better watch your tone-“
They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.
It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”
“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.
“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.
It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”
“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.
He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.
But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.
“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.
It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.
Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.
Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.
There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.
When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”
YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.
They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.
Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.
And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.
He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.
YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.
Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.
She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.
“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”
YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.
“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”
He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.
“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.
“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.
“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“
Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”￼
“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.
“S’my show! M’tour!”
“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”
“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.
And…that stung a bit.
When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.
“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”
YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.
She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.
“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.
“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.
“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.
“Harry,” She repeats.
The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”
Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)
“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.
The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.
Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.
“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”
YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.
“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”
“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”
“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”
And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.
“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.
610 notes · View notes