drabble eleven; morning troubles

genre: fluff..ish?

description: Henry wakes up with a problem, and Amber wonders why the hell he was in her bed to begin with.

foreword

“You are in so much trouble.”

“Why?! It’s not my fault, it-- it’s natural!”

“Not for that, you idiot! I just-- ugh!”

“Aw, is wittle Amber blushing? I am a man, you know.”

Amber looks up, glancing at him skeptically.

“...Hey!”

“Mmf...” Amber shifted slightly in bed, keeping her eyes closed. She could feel something poking her thigh, not that she really cared. As long as she could sleep just a little longer...

She shifted again, disturbing a small weight thrown around her waist. Sleepily, she figured it was just Krystal’s arm. Except it didn’t feel like Krystal; Krystal was lighter. And it definitely wasn’t Sulli either. It couldn’t be Vic umma though; she never shared a bed with Amber. And it’s not Luna, ‘cause Luna’s visiting her family...

By now, Amber was well awake and wondering who in the hell was in her bed, and why there was still something poking insistently against her leg. She turned around, letting out a sound halfway between a yelp and a gasp, finding herself face to face with Henry, who’s breathing lightly, his eyes closed in serenity.

It takes two seconds for Henry to end up on the floor, groaning in pain.

“Amber...” Henry whined, his voice still heavy with sleep. It’s low and kind of husky and-- Amber stops her thought process.

He sits up so his arms rest on the bed, his hair sticking in strange directions, which really doesn’t surprise her all that much. What surprised her, was the fact that Henry was in her bed. With his arm around her.

And something poking against her leg.

Amber turns multiple shades of red at the implication. No way. No. Henry is a guy, and Amber’s never been more aware of it than now, but-- just no.

“W-What are you doing here?” Amber manages to choke out.

He shrugs. “Sleeping? What did it look like I was doing?”

Weakly, Amber continues, ignoring the playful grin Henry’s shooting at her, completely oblivious to the thing in his pajama pants. The thing that has calmed down a bit, but still there, and Amber is trying very desperately to ignore it because her natural instinct should have been to say - ew, except, for some reason, that’s kind of hot.

Maybe he was dreaming of--

Never mind.

“Do you have your keys in your pocket?” She asks, praying he’d say yes, even though she knew the answer was no. He shook his head, looking at her curiously.

“Why?”

“Oh, god,” she mumbles, covering her face. “That is so --awkward.”

Henry stares at her in confusion. “What is so-- oh.” The fact that it’s just like Henry to totally forget he has morning wood until he sees Amber turning an even darker shade of red is even more embarrassing than the fact that he even has - you know. That thing.

Amber whines and sits back down on the bed, not daring to look at her best friend. Of all the situations she’s been in with Henry, this has got to be a new level of weird. And not okay.

Any other guy? Totally fine.

Henry?

Not fine.

“You are in so much trouble,” she mutters through her hand.

Henry huffs. “Why?! It’s not my fault, it-- it’s natural!” He’s racking his brain for an explanation because he very clearly remembers his dream and it’s not really helping his situation, especially not when the cause of it is sitting a precarious two feet away.

But then Amber bursts out with, “Not for that, you idiot! I just-- ugh!”

Henry can see her ears, and they’re pink with embarrassment. An amused smile plays on his lips, and he’s not particularly concerned anymore, and is much more entertained by Amber’s reaction.

“Aw, is wittle Amber blushing? I am a man, you know.” He smirks as he teases her, crawling so that he sits by her feet near the bed. He pokes her leg, chuckling.

Amber looks up, glancing at him skeptically.

“You sure?”

Henry sputters. “...Hey!”

Amber laughs; she laughs so hard that she ends up with her back on the bed, her head tilted slightly backwards as she clutches her stomach. The look on Henry’s face is priceless: he’s so utterly offended by her being unconvinced of his masculinity that his mouth drops open, one eyebrow quirked upwards in astonishment, his left eye twitching slightly.

Henry bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing and in a split second decision, he’s on top of Amber, his hands cupping her cheeks and his lips pressed forcefully against her. She makes a small noise that he ignores, because all he can pay attention to is the feeling of her lips against his for the very first time, and how sweet it is, even with their morning breath mingling, because Amber tastes like her toothpaste and milk tea and something that’s distinctively just her, and the best part is that she’s kissing him back.

He pulls away, and she’s breathing hard, staring up at him with warm brown eyes, and suddenly he realizes exactly how small she is underneath him. He can feel the rise and fall of her chest against his, and he can see the pinks in her cheeks, and how if she so much as moved, he could easily hold her there - but this was Amber, and to see her like this, looking up at him, her lashes touching her cheeks when she blinked and her lips, parted just slightly...

“Amber,” he murmurs, his voice low in his throat, and she just looks at him wordlessly, confused but pleased and still a little shocked to fully comprehend what just happened, and how Henry got there in the first place.

He smiles slightly, his lips forming a crooked grin with just a little bit of his teeth showing, the kind of easy smile that Amber loves to see on him, and he says, “Am I man now?”

She chokes out a laugh, her head tilting back at the ridiculousness of it all, and she shoves him off of her, laughing when he tumbles to the floor once more, his arms supporting from behind so he can sit up and grin at her cheekily, his eyes turning into little crescents.

“You’re stupid,” she says a little breathlessly, and he stands, once again crawling onto the bed and curling up beside her, their legs tangling together and his arms wrapped around her waist.

“I’m not,” he whines back, and she elbows him slightly, threatening to push him off the bed for the third time today.

Amber loves this, loves that they’ve always known they were something more, loves that Henry finally struck up the courage to kiss her, even if it took a little certain something to do it.

Speaking of which.

“You’re still in trouble, by the way,” she comments, and he lets out another loud whine.

“What for?”

“For sleeping in my bed without warning me. How the hell did you get here in the first place?”

She shifts in his arms and he grins at her.

“Krystal let me in.”

Amber should’ve known Krystal was always a HenBer shipper.