Moira woke up in her room. But it wasn't the peaceful, 'hearing the birds chirping' kind of way she woke up. The biggest headache and most awful stomach ache were terrorizing her. She felt nauseous, though very much unlike the pregnancy kind. It was the hangover kind. Her tummy was screaming for food, yet even the thought of made her feel like she was going to hurl.

She lay there, trying to recollect everything that happened mere hours ago. She remembered the horrible nightmare, the shocker of having Harry home early, checking up on Ollie and then getting drunk.

Everything after the first drink was very scattered. She caught glimpses of herself giggling uncontrollably, but besides that, nothing. And she hated not being able to remember, it made her feel powerless, not in control of her actions.

Let's hope she hadn't made a fool out of herself.

Pushing the covers away and throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Moira was having a hard time getting up. Her muscles were begging her to stop moving as she grabbed for her bathrobe and pulled it on.

Making way for the bathroom, she locked herself inside and turned on the shower. Swiftly undressing, she stepped inside the cubicle. The steaming, hot water helped to alleviate the tension from her muscles, but nothing would obliterate the endless possibilities from entering her mind, plaguing her.

What if things had gotten... out of hand?

Moira knew she tended to lose control when intoxicated, it made her less tense, carefree and too honest. And in her book, that was bad.

Rinsing the last of the shampoo from her hair, she turned off the shower and grabbed a tower from the nearby rack. Holding onto the towel, she crept down the hall, wondering if Harry was still here.

She'd been surprised when seeing him in Ollie's nursery, she'd figured he would've gone home to sleep in his own bed instead of her guest bedroom's. Since he must have been exhausted from the flight back to New York City. Not that she minded.

He had once again, managed to prove her wrong. And had especially blown her mind with his offer to feed Oliver, just so that she could sleep. Even though he'd repeatedly offered to do similar things, she hadn't taken him seriously until then; when he had climbed out of bed in the middle of the night to aid her crying son. It had dawned upon her just how genuine he was.

After she'd gotten dressed into a park-friendly outfit -black skinny jeans, black boots and a knitted sweater- she grabbed a black dust coat from her closet and threw some essentials into a tote bag, she ventured off to Ollie's nursery.

"Rise 'n shine, starshine," she greeted chirpily. "the earth says hello!"

Oliver squealed happily in response, wide awake and evidently in a good mood. His big, green eyes stared up at his mommy, seemingly mesmerized as well as ecstatic by her sudden appearance. He lifted his chubby arms up to reach for her, to which she instantly responded by picking him up and cuddling him to her chest.

"Did you sleep well, baby?" She asked him, though expecting no response. Pressing little kisses all over his face as she carried him over to commode dresser to change his diaper and dress him into his fuzzy, baby bear onesie which was perfect for the walk in the park she had planned later on.

Once he was dressed, Moira slung both her tote bag and Ollie's bag over her shoulder, holding Oliver in her arms as she ascended the stairs, planning on going into the kitchen to feed him his formula. She hoped to avoid a confrontation with Harry. His voice echoed into the hallways, so rather than striding into the living room, she pressed herself against the wall to listen.

"I don't care she's not available right now. I need to speak to Dr. Patel as soon as possible!" he yelled into what she figured was his phone. He must have been listening to the other person's reply, because all she could hear were his footsteps thudding across the wooden floorboards as he paced.

Dr. Patel? Why would he need to speak to her so urgently?

It was then that Oliver decided to announce their presence by animatedly and loudly gurgling to himself, flapping his little hands around, hitting everything in his path. Also known as his mother.

"Ouch, that hurt Oliver Flynn!"

"Moira?"

Well, shit.

Stepping from behind their hiding place, she casually walked to where Harry was standing. Thinking he knew exactly what she'd been doing, she was about to explain why she was eavesdropping. However, her entire face -body, heart, arms, limbs, froze completely when she saw Harry staring at them, or Ollie in particular. He was smiling down at her baby, his shoulders shaking a little -was he chuckling? He had two dimples appear on his cheeks, and his smile literally lit up his entire face. It changed it completely. He went from hot rockstar to adorable and cuddly within seconds.

Running a hand through his curly, loose hair and flipping it off to the side to get it out of his face, he hung up the phone without another word and carelessly tossed it onto the coffee table. He stretched his arms towards Moira, obviously wanting to hold Ollie. Without any form of protest, she handed him over. Knowing she could trust her baby with him.

Cradling Ollie in one arm, Harry stared down at the little boy. Using his other hand to softly tickle his fuzzy-clad tummy. "You must be the cutest bear cub I've ever seen." He exclaimed, making Oliver squeal in response and actually smile.

Moira's mouth dropped, flabbergasted. Ollie was a squealer, screamer and a genuinely happy baby. But he had never smiled before, not before just now anyway.

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"He just smiled." she could feel happy tears spring into her eyes, blurring her vision.

"So?"

"So?" she scolded. "That was the first time he smiled, ever!"

"That's something to be happy about," Harry said quietly, his eyes seeing the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't cry, baby."

Leaning forward, with Ollie still in one arm, he wiped her tears with his fingers. And Moira was shocked once more when he grinned at her and leaned down to kiss her right on the lips. His hand brushed up her chin to crane her head to meet his. Her eyes were wide, watching him, and his eyes were closed, his body, like always, towering over hers in stature.

"I regret not filming it." She murmured, feeling faint.

Harraël chuckled, pecking her forehead as he handed Ollie back to his mother.

* * * * * * *

It was way past midnight when -instead of baby crying- the muted ringing of a phone awakened her. Moira was a light sleeper -now that she was a mother- so it wasn't unusual something so barely audible had pulled her from her sleep.

Earlier that day, she'd gone for a walk in the park with Ollie and Harry. Which had been an experience of its own. Harry had done everything in his power to try and make her baby smile again, to no avail. He'd smiled once more, and that was at his mother. Thankfully.

Moira couldn't help but feel a little jealous that Harry had been the receiver of her son's first smile. So she made it her mission to at least be on the receiving side of his second smile. While Harry was busy pulling silly faces, she'd decided on trying a classic. Hiding her face behind her hands, she waited for a moment before popping back into view by pulling her hands away and yelling, "Peekaboo!"

The sight that greeted her was one to never forget; a smiling, squealing Ollie. His mouth sputtering with small giggles as his eyes twinkled, his wide, baby cheeks flushed from the nippy weather and his little legs happily kicked against the seat of his pram.

Something she'd noticed throughout their walk, was that he would watch her interact with Ollie, a certain fondness radiating from his gaze as he did. Or he'd discreetly glance at her from the corner of his eye at the most random of times. Even when she wasn't saying anything. It was a little weird to say the least. But also, nice? It made her feel like she was the only woman in the world worthy of looking at. It made her feel important.

She'd tried interrogating him about last night's events, fishing for any embarrassing things she'd done in her drunk state, but he had denied anything from happening. Saying she'd gone to bed after about half an hour, claiming to be tired. And even though he seemed honest, she couldn't help but doubt his words.

Never had she not done anything stupid while drunk. So how come she'd been an absolute angel, while in the company of her ultimate weakness?

After their walk in the park, the rest of the afternoon was spent in Moira's apartment. Harry told her all about his 'adventures' in Sweden, about the fans, writing their songs, recording them. And promising her, he'd let her listen to a new song soon.

They'd treated themselves to Chinese takeout for dinner and watched bad television shows before heading off for bed.

Unfortunately, she still didn't know why he'd come back a month earlier than planned. Every time that she'd tried embarking the subject, he would quickly start talking about something entirely else. It was useless. And thus she promised herself to find out soon, even if she had to force it out of him.

Staring at the ceiling, she waited for the ringing to stop. But it wouldn't. It wasn't her phone, that was for sure. Hence the insane curiosity she felt bubbling inside of her.

Who was calling Harry at this time?

Shoving the covers away from her and rising for the bed. She tip-toed out of the room, opening the door quickly and sliding out into the darkened hallway. She made her way blindly down the hallway, her ears straining to listen for any noises and her eyes struggling to see through the thick darkness. The air was taciturn, and her bare feet were meeting the cold, wooden floor; causing shivers to run down her spine.

What if it had awoken Harry as well?

Descending the stairs, she moved into the direction of where she thought his phone was: the living room. Where it luckily was. Crouching down beside the coffee table she grabbed the device, clicking the home button to see who the missed calls were from.

Dr. Patel (3)

Wait. Wasn't Harry calling someone, demanding to speak to Dr. Patel's assistant, just this afternoon?

She was too busy focused on the phone, wondering why on earth Dr. Patel had been calling him at this time, to hear the footsteps coming down the stairs. But as they grew louder, getting closer, she stiffened visibly, dropped the phone, quickly scooted onto the couch and waited for Harraël to appear.

He did. He wore no shirt and had only low, sweat pants. His tattoos on display and even in the darkness she saw his eyes look over her while she did the same to him. Moira's gaze was glued to his toned chest, and it was then that she officially concluded he was created by some sort of god.

"What are you doing out here?" He demanded, though gently as he walked in front of her and crouched. She could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and by the huskiness in it, she could tell he had just woken up seconds ago. He probably came hurrying when he heard someone down stairs.

"I think I was sleepwalking." she mumbled, hoping he'd buy it. Having no idea why she was lying in the first place. She'd looked at his phone without permission, yes, but was that really that big of a deal? She'd only seen the lock screen...

Shockingly, he accepted that response and reached forward, gathering her in his arms. She could feel his firm chest press against her, his smooth, bare skin making contact as he gathered her in his arms. Confused, she opened her mouth just to ask him what he was doing, but she was cut off when he picked her up, as if she was as light as a feather.

"Come on," He said quietly, beginning to climb back up stairs. She held tightly onto him, feeling his warm skin against hers, and wondering how he was carrying her with such ease. "Let's get you back to bed."

She was surprised he actually bought that lame excuse of hers, but she guessed it was only because he was tired. And as he carried her back, she could feel her body go limp in exhaustion, too. Everything about her was tired, her brain, her body, everything. She leaned her head against his chest, and for once, she kept her mouth shut.

He moved down the hall, stopping just outside her bedroom door. She clutched his shoulder and tensed in his hold. Harry pulled his eyebrows together and shifted her slightly as he searched her face, "What's wrong?"

Thoughts were wildly running through his head.

Had she somehow figured it all out? Did she have camera's around the house? Had she noticed him sniffing around? Or had he forgotten to put things back in place? Had she noticed something was different?

While Harry was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Moira was quietly debating on how to answer his question.

"Hey? what's wrong?" He repeated, his panic growing with every second.

"Can you stay with me?" her voice was small, timid and unsure.

Harraël nodded, beyond relieved, his eyes flashing with an array of emotions. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Of course, princess."

Funny how gestures as simple pecks or heated kisses now belonged under the category of 'normal'. Whereas it would've been extra-terrestrial, mere months ago. Funny how a person could change another person's life so drastically; the good kind of change.

He walked them into the room, gently lowering her onto the mattress. And as he went to close the door, nervousness started to creep through Moira. She didn't think Harry was one to make a sexual move on her, without her expressing her obvious interest. But he was still a man, and the intentions of men were pretty unpredictable. Or they were to her, anyway.

Crawling into bed beside her, he pulled the covers over their bodies.

"G'night, babe." He said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.

"Night, Harry."

Within seconds Harry fell into a deep sleep. She'd expected to at least talk a bit before going off to dreamland. But as she listened to his soft, almost inaudible breathing, it was clear as day that there was no chance in hell Harry would voluntarily stay awake.

So really, there had been no reason for being nervous.

She laid there, staring into the darkness surrounding them. She could feel the warmth from his body next to her, even though he wasn't even touching her.

She was in awe of his sleeping form. He seemed so innocent with his eyes closed and his cover-coated chest moving up with every inhale and down with every exhale. His hair was a complete mess, his black eyelashes resting on his cheeks, who were a light shade of healthy pink.

Shivering, she suddenly noticed how cold she was -dressed in a thin gown. The hairs on her body were rising, and she had goose bumps forming on her exposed arms. Peeking over at the man beside her, she sighed. Oh how she wished she could casually cuddle and sleep with him, just sleep. She wasn't one to make the first move, not because of the whole stereotyped 'boys are supposed to make the first move'-thing but simply because she was too scared of rejection.

She didn't know what it was, but all of a sudden something gave her an ounce of courage. It wiped away the fear she once held.

You know what? Fuck it.

Hoping to god Harry wouldn't wake up, she moved a few inches closer to him and snuggled into his side, pressing her face into his chest and closing her eyes.

All she knew was that she was cold and he was warm.