Thank You - Led Zeppelin

"If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. Mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me."

ISABELLA

Harry's hands were gripping the steering wheel tight. His eyes were dead set ahead on the road in front of us. Thankfully there was no traffic on the road, making the drive to Manchester smooth.

I knew how much he disliked going back home. It brought back memories of Sarah and other things that he tried to avoid as much as he could. There was also his dysfunctional relationship with Mark. The tension that was in between the two men was thick and awkward. I never knew how to act around Mark. He was a terrible man. A heart that was clearly not as warm as his lovely wife. Samantha was wonderful. She had qualities that I wished my own mother possessed.

I reach over the console, placing my hand gently on his lap. He flinches before his body relaxes against my touch. "You okay?"

He grunts, his eyes not wavering from the road. I squeeze his thigh before resting my hand on his knee. He left hand lets go of the wheel, lacing his fingers with mine. He rests it on his lap. His thumb tracing circles in my skin.

"I hate this drive."

"I know."

"It's too fucking long."

"It is."

He nods, looking over at me, before looking back at the road. He adjusts his free hand on the wheel. We continue to drive in silence. Soft music playing in the background. Thankfully, there was no tension between us. Only silence. It's not awkward. It was simple... comforting almost.

The hours went by quickly and before I knew it, we were pulling up in front of the awfully big house I was growing familiar with. Harry doesn't bother to get out of the car after he shuts it off. Instead, he only sits there. His hands have fallen on his lap and his lips are pursed together.

I take a moment to look him over. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black jeans with a whole in one knee. He was in his usual pair of boots and his hair was pulled back into a bun. I had managed to keep in my snide remarks of his outgrown hair to myself. Only giving him a smirk when he first pulled up. His eyes were now shielded by a pair of black ray bans.

"Ready?" I question him, breaking the silence. He looks over at me. His hand reaching for mine. He laces his fingers with them. He studies our interlocked hands. His thumb tracing the skin on my thumb where my hand and knuckle meet. He pulls off his sunglasses, placing them in the cup holder below.

"Not yet," he turns facing me. He lets go of my hand before he places his hands on either side of my face. Bringing me in closer to him, his green eyes look at me. His stare set on me. The heat of his breath touches my lips. Before I know it, our lips are locked in a gentle kiss.

My hand moves up and touches his arm. I take a hold of it. He kisses me deeper. My eyes screwed shut as his hands move down my face and towards my back. He pulls me closer urging me to climb over the console and onto his lap. I lean into his frame. He wraps my legs around his torso, pulling me closer to him. I wrap my hands around his neck, my fingers playing with the curls at the base of his neck that have fallen from the elastic.

Harry pulls back. I am breathless, my eyes are still shut tight. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too, Harry."

"No, you don't get it." He shakes his head slightly. "My world is fucked up. I'm fucked up. But you still are here. I don't get it but I'm glad you are. I couldn't be here," he nods towards his mothers place, "without you. You help me get by. I know I sound so fucking cheesy, but it's true."

"You're not fucked up Harry. As much as you think you are, you're not. I promise you that." I touch his cheek lightly. My fingers brushing over his prominent jawline. He leans his head into my touch. His eyes flutter shut. "Nothing you do will ever make me love you less."

His eyes open. The green of his irises darkened. "You're crazy."

"I know."

"But I guess I'm crazy too."

"I won't argue with you there." I smile. He shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Harry kisses me once again. This time harder than before. The pent up tension that he had been harboring this whole drive being released through his lips. I pull back slightly but give him another few quick kisses. "Are you ready now?" I smile against his lips. He nods his head, pulling my hand into his.

"Yeah." He kisses my knuckle before unbuckling his seatbelt. I step out of the car, climbing over his body. Standing up, I straighten out my jean shorts and blouse. Adjusting the collar and making my shorts hadn't risen. I take my bag out of the trunk of the car and follow Harry up the steps.

He takes a breath before he rings the bell. A petite, young woman opens the door. Her eyes are a deep blue and her hair a dark brown. She wears a maids outfit, a broom in her hand. Could this be any more stereotypical?

"Hello," her voice is soft. Her eyes scanning over Harry and I before looking down. She pulls the door closer to her body. "May I help you?"

"Is Samantha home?" Harry asks. His tone is short. It is obvious that he was already losing a bit of his patience.

"Mrs. Beck is in the study. May I ask who you are?"

"I'm her son." Harry grunts. The maid blushes profusely.

"O-oh, I'm s-so sorry Mr. Breck. Beck. Mr. Beck," the poor thing stutters.

"It's Styles."

She looks away again. I began to feel sorry for the girl. It was clear that she wasn't aware of the family dynamics. It didn't help that Harry wasn't being kind. His usual rude demeanor resurfacing. "I- I'm," she coughs. "I'm sorry, sir. I er-I..."

"It's alright," I pipe in. She looks at me. Her cheeks reddened by embarrassment. I smile at her softly in which she returns half heartedly. "Could we come in?"

"Y-yes. Of course." She opens the door wider for us to step in. I squeeze Harry's arm in which he returns with a grunt. I roll my eyes. Not even bothering to make a comment. "I'm Izzy, by the way." I stretch my hand out. She looks at it wearingly before reaching her own hand out, shaking it.

"Denise." She shakes my hand. I cringe mentally at her sweaty palms. My mild OCD breaking out the hand sanitizer and blanketing my hand with it. "Nice to meet you Miss. Styles. Your mother-"

"Oh, no." I laugh lightly. "She's not my mother." You would think she'd figure that out since I clearly had an American accent. I let it slide. Her nerves probably getting the best of her. "I'm grumpy pants over there's girlfriend."

"I- oh. I'm sorry. God, I'm so embarrassed." She shakes her head. Covering her red tinted face in her hands. I pat her back softly.

"It's alright. He can be scary." I motion towards Harry who is halfway across the foyer and towards the study.

"I'm new. Mrs. Beck is lovely but Mr. Beck is frightening. I've never been more glad to see him gone for the week. He's awfully tall and always seems put off and angry. I'm -" she gasps. Covering her lips. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't talk about them like this. They're my employers. Geez, I don't know what's the matter with me. Reckon I should be fired is what."

I laugh, rubbing her back lightly. "It's okay. I don't like him either."

"Really?"

"Really," I chuckle. "Absolutely awful. Harry hates him too. But - Sam is the loveliest lady around. She makes up for his awful attitude."

"She is." Denise shakes her head slightly. She eventually shrugs her shoulders. "Let me take you to the study."

"Okay." I give her a smile in which she returns with a genuine one of her own.

We walk across the grand foyer and towards the study. It's an open concept room. A fireplace along a main wall. A blown up photograph of the family is hung above, taking up most of the free space. I smile to myself as I glance at it. When I had first saw it, I couldn't help the giggles that escaped my lips. Harry must have been no more than eight. His hair an unruly mess of curls and a scowl on his face that would make a baby cry. But it was the sweater vest that he wore that made the photo. It was an ugly beige with orange stripes. He still looked adorable, regardless.

Samantha was seated on an ottoman. A newspaper in her hand. Harry is seated on the couch in front of her. His hands on his knees and his eyes focused on his feet.

"Mrs. Beck," Denise coughs. I could hear Harry scowl from where I stood. I give him a look but he was too focused on his feet. "Miss. Izzy i-is here as... um, well."

Samantha looks up from her paper. A wide grin spread across her lips. "Isabella!" She squeals, getting up and walking over to me. She engulfs me into a motherly hug. Her expensive perfume taking over my senses. "It is so wonderful to see you, darling. A beautiful thing you are." She kisses my cheek. "Thank you Denise. You can go and finish up dinner please. We will be ready to eat by," she checks her watch. "Half hour. Six you can serve dinner, please." She gives her a warm smile.

Denise nods, "O-okay ma'am."

"And for the last time, please call me Samantha."

"R-right. Samantha." Denise quickly turns around and heads off to the kitchen.

"Nervous little thing she is. Always stuttering about. Worse when Mark is here." Samantha wraps her arm around mine, pulling me to her side. We walk towards the couch adjacent from Harry. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine.

His face is hard. His jaw locked. I give him a soft smile. Immediately I watch his jaw loosen and his eyes soften. "I love you," I mouth to him in which he returns with a small smile. He nods his head, as if to say, "I love you too".

I take a seat beside Samantha. Her arm still hooked on to my own. "Now tell me, how was the drive up." She pats my knee. Her warm eyes watching me.

"Um, not too bad." I say, looking at Harry.

"Yeah. It was fine, mum." He finally says. He stretches his long legs out and leans back against the couch. He pulls his hair out of the bun, running his fingers through his hair.

"Harry-" Samantha gasps. "What is wrong with your hair? It's getting too long." She shakes her head. I bite my lip to stifle my laughs.

"Mum. It's long. I like it like this."

"You look barbaric." She chuckles. "Oh my."

"Long hair, don't care." He shrugs before pulling his hair back into a bun. I laugh shaking my head.

"I don't mind it," I admit.

"I'm glad he has you, Isabella. I don't know who else can put up with his madness. First the tattoos and now the hair. My boy," she smiles softly.

"He's alright. I keep him around," I joke.

"I'll be sure to give you some money as a thank you. Maybe something extra so that you can stay," she jokes along with me.

Harry groans from his seat on the couch. "Really mum? Paying my girlfriend off."

"With that hair and those tattoos... and goodness, your pants! Do you need me to buy you some new jeans? There are holes in these."

"These are new."

"Oh," she giggles. "Never mind then." She turns to me, "I will never understand todays fashion."

"Me neither," I agree, laughing along with her.

Moments later, Denise arrives. She stands nervously by the entrance of the study. "Um, Mrs. Beck - dinner is ready to be served."

Samantha smiles, thanking Denise. We get up and follow her towards the dining room. I pull Harry to the side, giving his hand a strong squeeze. He gives me a smile before kissing my forehead. "Let's go eat, yeah?"

I smile, "Alright."