I woke up the following morning to the smell of bacon filtering into Harry's bedroom. I rolled over in bed to find the covers pushed back and Harry's side of the bed empty, and I sat up and glanced at the clock - nine thirteen a.m. I got up and pulled a white Rolling Stones tshirt out of the chest of drawers in his walk-in wardrobe, slipped it over my head and ventured downstairs after a quick detour to the ensuite. 

As I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to walk along the hall to the kitchen, Harry appeared in the doorway in a pair of tight black boxers, draped seductively against the door frame in an exaggerated fashion, an egg spatula in one hand and a pair of oven gloves in the other, his eyes smoldering.

"Good morning," he said huskily, a sultry smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You look hot as fuck in my tshirt."

He pushed himself away from the wall and sashayed towards me while I giggled, and then hooked one arm around my waist, pulling me against his bare chest and lowering his face to mine to kiss me on the lips. I melted into his embrace, a flush of heat working its way slowly through my body. How did he manage to be so cool all the time? Even when he was messing about he was enviably smooth. Did it take years of practice, I wondered, or was it just something that came naturally? I rested my arms around his neck as his right arm slid around my waist, locking me against him so I couldn't escape even if I'd wanted to. Not that I would ever have wanted to. 

He pushed his hips forward gently, and I could feel the beginnings of a stirring in his shorts. I nudged him back, and he gave the smallest grunt of pleasure. I slid my hands slowly down his chest to his waist, but before I could go any lower we were interrupted by a piercing siren in the form of a rapid, high-pitched wail. We broke apart in alarm and I covered my ears with my hands as Harry darted into the kitchen.

"What the fucķ?!" I shouted over the din.

"That'll be the bacon," he replied, turning the gas off.  He moved the smoking frying pan to another ring on the stove and grabbed a tea towel, wafting it fruitlessly at the smoke alarm on the ceiling. A loud banging on the door made me jump out of my skin again. "And that'll be security," he added, throwing the tea towel down in defeat and walking out of the kitchen, through the dining room, to the front door. I picked up the tea towel and waved it underneath the smoke alarm, and eventually it stopped screaming and I heard Harry reassuring Dale that everything was fine. I peeped through the doorway, tugging the hem of Harry's tshirt down to cover my thighs, and gave Dale an embarrassed wave which he returned in amusement.

"Well that killed the mood," Harry huffed when he returned to the kitchen. "And the surprise. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed."

"Awwww," I swooned, pinching his cheek affectionately, and he swatted my hand away with a shy smile. 

"Yeah yeah, alright," he muttered. 

"I think it's salvageable," I said, peering into the frying pan. "It was the fat that was burning. The bacon's just extra crispy, exactly how I like it."

"I knew there was a reason I love you," he grinned, tweaking my nose and taking the pan from me.

"Because I love crispy bacon?"

"Well, that is a deal breaker," he winked. "But I meant because you're not high maintenance. You're so easy-going. We're a good match."

"I think so too," I smiled back, and we beamed goofily at each other for a moment. "You're going to burn my breakfast again if you don't watch it."

"Shit," he muttered, looking back down at the pan and nudging the bacon around with the spatula in his hand. "Make the brews, will you? I can't do two things at once." He gestured to two mugs sitting by the kettle, teabags already waiting inside each.

"Of course you can't. You're a man," I scoffed cheekily as I poured the boiled water into the cups. "What kind of breakfast in bed is this anyway? I had to come downstairs, put out fires, save your bacon, literally, AND make my own cup of tea? This wasn't what was advertised in the brochure."

He chuckled softly as he removed the bacon from the pan with a pair of tongs and laid the rashers carefully onto the already-buttered bread. "Really? What did the advert say?"

"It said 'Breakfast in bed cooked and served by handsome male model wearing Calvin Klein underwear, in prestige London location with stunning views.'"

He threw his head back and laughed, and then took a step back and gestured to his own body. "What's wrong with this view?"

"Absolutely nothing," I replied seriously.

"And was a free tshirt advertised with this once-in-a-lifetime offer?" he asked, glancing meaningfully at his Rolling Stones top that I was wearing, after he had squirted just the right amount of brown sauce on the sandwich, cut it in half diagonally and set it on a plate in front of me.

I took a bite of it and chewed thoughtfully. "It did not advertise a free tshirt," I confirmed with a shake of my head, after I had swallowed.

"In that case, I could suggest that you are currently in breach of contract and terminate the offer without prior warning or consent," he said, with a triumphant smirk.

"I can return the tshirt immediately, if you would prefer," I replied devilishly.

"If you want me to fuck you against the fridge again," he shrugged nonchalantly.

I pretended to consider this for a moment. "I think I do want that, actually."

He grinned and stood up from his seat at the breakfast bar and walked round to where I was sitting. 

"Wait, I'd like to finish my sandwich first," I protested as he slipped his arms around my waist and lifted me from the stool.

He said nothing as I wrapped my legs around him, but pressed his lips against mine as he walked a few steps to the fridge and pressed me up against it as my hands wound their way into his hair.

"Really, what sort of behaviour is this?" I muttered as he broke away from my mouth to kiss my jaw, my neck and my collarbone. "I will be putting a complaint in writing."

"You do that," he murmured, sliding his hands underneath the tshirt and running the pads of his thumbs over my nipples.

"I will," I breathed, pressing my groin against his. "I demand a full refund. I didn't even have to take the tshirt off."

"I like it when you keep it on," he breathed back, finding my lips again and kissing me hard while I pulled his boxers down and he rubbed his tip against me.

I moaned softly and closed my eyes as he entered me slowly, easing himself in. I pulled his face to mine again and his tongue pushed into my mouth as he moved in and out, the fridge rocking gently behind us. I squeezed him hard, wrapping my legs more tightly round his waist, pulling him in deeper, and he grunted quietly and moved faster and harder, gripping me with both hands to hold me still while he drove into me.

I whimpered his name as I came and he hoisted me up higher and began to pound me, knocking a couple of magnets off the fridge door onto the floor in his exuberance. He groaned into my mouth, gasped and shuddered, and then gradually slowed. When he came to a stop and slipped out of me he dropped his forehead onto my shoulder, just as he had done the first time we did this in the exact same spot, and I smiled at the memory of that morning just over nine months ago, when I had no idea of the excitement, heartbreak and eventual happiness that had lain ahead. I kissed the side of his head gently, and he squeezed my waist with his arm without a word, still panting, his heart thudding against my own chest.

His breathing slowed, and then without changing his position he said cheekily, "You'll be invoiced separately for the tshirt, and the added extras."

I thumped his arm and he chuckled as he lifted his head from my shoulder and kissed me softly on the lips. "I presume there will be no complaints about said extras?" he smirked.

"Well I think they should be free of charge, considering the breakfast was falsely advertised," I grinned back. "Especially as it's now cold."

"Pfft, some people are never happy," he huffed teasingly. "Next you'll be telling me you do want to keep my tshirt after all."

"Well, if you're offering," I said casually, pulling at the hem of it to examine the pink design on the front. "I could make a small fortune off this on eBay," I added under my breath, but deliberately loud enough for him to hear, and he chuckled again.

"You are one of a kind, Jessica Bradshaw. Now get that bloody bacon butty eaten, after all the fuss I went to to make it for you."

I poked my tongue out at him as I sat down to finish my breakfast, and once or twice I caught him smiling to himself over something that he refused to divulge, no doubt because he knew it would infuriate me.

~~~~

Harry dropped me home at lunchtime as he had a gym session booked in with his friends Cal and Mark, and I took the opportunity to dig out the small box of Christmas decorations that was shoved in the back of the cupboard in the spare room. I didn't have room in my little flat for a real Christmas tree, so I made do with a three-foot fake one that took me over half an hour to assemble, thanks to having shoved it unceremoniously back in its box in January with no instructions attached.

I had just positioned it in the lounge on top of a small corner table when my flat buzzer sounded. I peered out of the window and saw Harry's car parked in its usual spot, and quickly buzzed him in. He arrived at my door a couple of seconds later in his gym gear, his hair pulled back off his face.

"Hi," I said happily, kissing him as he walked through the open doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, I'm all sweaty," he apologised. "I just didn't fancy going back to an empty house when I could be hanging out with you instead. Seemed pointless to be spending the afternoon alone when we could be together. Unless you've made other plans?"

"Not unless you count decorating the Christmas tree," I shrugged. "You can help me if you want. I have mince pies in the cupboard and a bottle of mulled wine I can open, if you really want to enter into the festive spirit?"

He gave me a look of longing. "That sounds amazing. Can I be cheeky and have a shower first, though?"

While Harry was in the bathrooom I warmed the mulled wine and arranged a couple of mince pies onto a plate and brought them through to the lounge just as he reappeared in a pair of soft grey joggers and a black hoodie, his damp hair still tied back. He looked mouthwateringly divine.

"Iced mince pies?" he said in disbelief, looking down at the plate on the coffee table. "I didn't even know they existed."

"You've never lived," I teased, handing him his glass of wine. 

We spent a few minutes sorting through the decorations, and then began hanging them on the tree. It didn't take long, and I lit a few Christmas-scented candles around the room afterwards, turned the light off and switched the tree lights on.

"Ahhh," Harry breathed. "That looks beautiful."

"Great job Styles," I acknowledged, high fiving him, before he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. "Are you staying for tea?"

"What are you making?" he asked with interest.

"I could do a chicken stir fry," I suggested. "I think I've got some noodles in the cupboard."

"Sounds good," he nodded, letting go of me to adjust the star at the top of the Christmas tree. "Can I help?"

"You can keep me company while I cook it," I suggested, and he came to chat to me while I chopped up the vegetables and fried them in the wok.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" I asked as we sat down at the kitchen table to eat. "The X Factor, I mean."

"Yeah. It's gonna be strange," he said. "It's the end of an era. I was so afraid of the change when the break was first announced, but now I'm looking forward to setting out on my own and trying something new. Our last show is going to feel quite sad."

I nodded, trying not to think about their last performance together.

"Are you excited?" he asked. 

"I'm looking forward to it," I answered. "I'm honoured to be there."

He smiled at me, and nudged my leg affectionately under the table.

"Right, you can help me wrap all my Christmas presents," I told him once I'd cleared the dishes away.

"Thanks," he said, a little sarcastically, and then grinned at me when I raised a eyebrow at him. "I mean, it would be a privilege," he corrected quickly, and I made him sit on the floor next to me, ripping off pieces of sellotape and holding them out to me as I needed them, while I wrapped all the presents (apart from his, which were safely stowed at the bottom of my wardrobe) and put them under the tree.

He didn't stay over that night, but headed back home just after midnight as he needed to get his things together ready for the X Factor the following day, and promised me that a car would collect me at three o'clock on Sunday afternoon to take me to the SSE Arena in Wembley where the final was taking place.

I was skittish waiting for it to arrive the next day, after spending hours deciding what to wear and doing my own hair and makeup. It wasn't like it really mattered how I looked as I would only be in the audience, but I knew Harry's family would be there, along with a load of famous faces, and I wanted to look my best for the show and the afterparty.

When I arrived at the venue I immediately ran into Gemma and Lottie and they led me excitedly into the green room, where Harry and the rest of the band were talking and laughing with some of the production crew and the judges. Harry's face lit up when he saw me, and he beckoned me over and introduced me to Simon Cowell, whom he credited for everything he had achieved so far.

I hoped it wasn't obvious that my legs were trembling with nerves as Simon shook my hand and kissed me on the cheek, and I was very glad when Anne appeared at my side and gave me a warm hug. 

"How are you?" she asked. "You're looking well."

We spent a couple of minutes catching up, and over her shoulder I could see Liam and Niall talking to Olly Murs and Caroline Flack, although Liam seemed to be grinning to himself over something private. It was only when I looked to my left and saw Cheryl Fernandez-Versini glancing over in Liam's direction with an identical grin on her face that I remembered about their hook-up and wondered what had happened between them since then. 

"Hi Jessie," Grimmy greeted me as he walked over to me and Anne, and he gave us both a hug. "Are you excited for the final?"

"Can't wait!" I beamed. "I'm glad there are a few people here that I know. I was so nervous before I arrived."

Anne squeezed my shoulders in support, and Harry slipped his arm around my waist, earning a knowing look from Grimmy, and a wink.

The boys were called away for interviews and photos while we were provided with complimentary food and drinks, and we took our seats in the arena just after half past seven, in preparation for the start of the live show. I was on edge throughout most of it, waiting for One Direction's last performance, and managed to keep the tears at bay until they stood together on stage to watch the video of other celebrities congratulating them on their achievements and wishing them well. It was only then that the enormity of their success and the relief at this hiatus finally hit me, and the tears began to fall.

The audience screamed and cheered and sang along to every word of History, and despite my best efforts I couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks, especially seeing the old footage on the screen behind them. When the last note died and the four of them pulled each other into a tight embrace Anne grabbed me and Gemma around our shoulders and squeezed us both with all her might, all three of us blubbering wrecks. 

Olly Murs was straight onto the stage to speak to them, and as Liam answered his first question I hastily wiped my tears away. Of course, Harry chose that moment to scan the crowd for me, and smirked and pointed at me before pretending to wipe the corner of his right eye, indicating he had indeed seen me crying. I knew I would be called out for that later, so I poked my tongue out at him and he grinned and looked away.

The show cut to a break and we watched as the band made their way off the stage to the judges' seats to hug Simon, Cheryl, Rita Ora and Grimmy, and I noticed as they had various pictures taken together with their arms around each other that Liam's arm was around Cheryl's shoulders but her hand slipped down to rest on his bum. I would definitely be asking Harry about that later.

The afterparty passed in an emotional and excited blur, and once again I was allowed a glimpse into Harry's whirlwind showbiz lifestyle. Although I had been nervous when we first arrived I found myself more relaxed than I had been at the AMAs, perhaps because Anne and Gemma were by my side or perhaps because I was gradually becoming accustomed to this environment after spending more and more time with Harry. Either way it was a relief to realise I could hold my own and make Harry proud when it mattered. I felt I had come a long way since I first met him.

It was the early hours of the morning before Harry dropped me off at my flat and continued on in the back of his chauffeur-driven car to his own house. (I had to be up early for work in the morning and he was more than a little worse for wear.) I fell into bed tired and emotional, but happy after enjoying another amazing evening with the love of my life. It was now just over a week until Christmas, and I was excited to spend it with Harry and start a brand new year together. Although we would be apart on New Year's Eve, I was excited for the future and what it held for us.