Archive of Our Own

“Harry,” Bridget calls, not looking up from her work. She's at the kitchen table with a piece of printer paper and a crayon, scribbling away while Harry makes her a cheese sandwich for lunch.

“Yes, my dear?” Harry glances over his shoulder at her from the stove, smiling when he sees her staring contemplatively at her paper.

“Come here a second,” Bridget requests, waving him over with her free hand. “I need to look at you quickly.”

Harry snorts quietly and shuffles over to the table, standing beside Bridget while she gazes up at him. She nods once and returns her crayon to paper, scribbling out a messy stick figure that looks vaguely like Harry. She keeps peering up at him while she draws, as if making sure her crayon drawing is as accurate as possible.

“Alright,” she says eventually, waving him off. “All done.”

“Was that a portrait?” Harry grins, leaning over Bridget’s shoulder to look at the drawing. “That looks lovely. Like a photograph, I’d say.”

“Thank you,” Bridget smiles, turning to Harry and patting his cheek lightly. “Daddy says I should go to art school when I get older.”

“Does he?” Harry says, turning back to the stove to make sure Bridget’s sandwich isn't burning. “That's nice of him. I wonder what he'll say about that when you're eighteen,” he muses.

“Daddy says if I love something I should go after it,” Bridget says proudly. “Peruse it.”

“Pursue,” Harry corrects gently. “And he's right. You should always pursue what makes you happy.”

Bridget hums in agreement, still scribbling away on her paper. Harry flips the sandwich in the frying pan, and the only sound in the room for a moment is the sizzling of the cheese.

“Harry,” Bridget says again a few minutes later, staring down at her drawing. “What do you call your dad?”

“Dad, usually,” Harry shrugs. “I call my step-dad pops, sometimes,” he says.

“Your step-dad?” Bridget frowns, glancing up at him. “What's that?”

“It's when your parents aren't together anymore, and one them marries someone new. My mom and dad broke up, and then my mom married Robin, which makes Robin my step-dad,” Harry explains.

“Oh,” Bridget blinks, looking down at her drawing. “So, you don't call him dad?”

“Nope, I reserve that for my real dad,” Harry says, playing the sandwich when it's ready and cutting it into quarters.

“So there are other names for dads other than just dad?” Bridget asks, perplexed.

“Of course,” Harry smiles, setting Bridget’s plate down on the table beside her drawing. “People call their dad's all kinds of things. Some people have more than one dad, so they like to call them different things,” he says.

“Step-dads, you mean?” Bridget frowns.

“Well, yeah,” Harry shrugs. “Sometimes people have two dads instead of a mom and a dad, or two moms. When people have two parents that are the same gender, they usually have different names for them. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Bridget nods. “So, people can have two dads and call one of them daddy and one of them something else?” She asks.

“Exactly,” Harry grins.

“What other names are there for the other dad?” Bridget asks. “How do they decide which one gets to be daddy and which one is something different?”

“Well, they usually talk about it before they have kids, and raise their kids to call them that,” Harry says. “They can be called pops, like my step-dad, or papa, or sometimes people make up their own words for it,” he says.

“Oh,” Bridget chirps, looking down at her drawing. “Papa is good, I think.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, frowning slightly. He doesn't ask what it's good for, or if it's just good in general, and Bridget stuffs a quarter of her sandwich in her mouth and goes back to scribbling.

“I'm gonna clean up this mess a bit,” Harry gestures to the frying pan on the stove and the crumbs all over the kitchen, “and then maybe we can go play outside, or go to the park?”

“Park,” Bridget mutters, cheeks round from the food she’s holding there.

Harry chuckles and sets off to clean up, sweeping the crumbs into the bin and washing up the frying pan and spatula, and by the time he's done Bridget has just finished eating. He pops her plate in the dishwasher and then they're off, slipping their shoes on at the door and making their way down the street to the park.

-

It’s a few days later, Friday, and it’s raining. Bridget’s been irritable since Harry got here this morning when Louis left for work, which is making Harry irritable as well, and overall it’s a horrible day. All Bridget wants to do is watch films and whine, apparently, and since they can’t go outside, Harry supposes it’s alright. They’re on film number two of the day, The Little Mermaid, when Bridget looks up at him.

“Harry?” she asks quietly, sitting up from where she’s slumped over on a pillow and pressing into his side.

“Yes, love?” Harry hums, reaching down to brush her hair out of her face.

“Where’s my mum?” she asks after a quiet moment, not looking him directly in the eye. Harry’s breath catches in his throat, and he sighs quietly.

“I don’t really know, sweetheart,” Harry admits. “She’s somewhere looking down on you, I know that, but I don’t think I could tell you where exactly she is,” he says.

Bridget doesn’t answer, staring at the television for a long few minutes. “Am I ever gonna get a new mum?” she asks eventually, voice tiny and forced.

Harry purses his lips, rubbing at Bridget’s tense back. “I don’t know that, either,” he says. “Maybe, if daddy finds another woman he loves,” he says, heart sinking at the thought. He and Louis have only been together a few weeks but Harry’s head over heels for him; if Louis leaves him and marries another woman, Harry doesn’t think he’d be able to survive the heartbreak.

Bridget huffs, frowning up at him. “But what if it’s not a woman that he loves?”

Harry blinks, raising his eyebrows at her. “Well, I mean, that’s a possibility too. But that’s not something you need to be worrying about right-”

“I don’t want a new mum,” Bridget snaps, pushing away from Harry’s side and falling back onto her pillow, glaring at the tv. “I want my mum, or I don’t want a mum at all.”

Harry blanches, collecting his thoughts very carefully. “Honey, that’s not really something for you to decide. It all depends on how daddy feels, and what he wants,” he says gently. “I know that’s hard for you to understand, but you have to be respectful of what he thinks and feels, too,” he says.

Bridget doesn’t answer, lip wobbling angrily. Harry decides to let it go, watching the tv for a few minutes until Bridget speaks again, so quietly he almost doesn’t even catch it.

“I don’t want another mum because I want you.”

Harry feels his lungs close up, not allowing any more oxygen into his body. His brain is screaming but all he can do is stare at the tv screen, and pretend he didn’t hear her. He has nothing, not an inkling of a clue how to respond to that. He wants to cry, kind of, because god, he feels the same way. That doesn’t matter, though, it doesn’t matter what either of them think, because it only matters what Louis decides. He knows Louis is still in a dark place after the accident and he knows he’s still emotionally unavailable, for the most part, and he knows that it’s going to take Louis a while to be able to open up to him. They’re technically dating now, yeah, but that doesn’t mean that Louis won’t eventually decide that this isn’t what he wants. Harry wants it though, fucking hell, he wants it so bad, but he isn’t getting his hopes up just to be let down, and neither should Bridget.

Louis comes home with Chinese and it’s enough to lift both Harry and Bridget’s spirits a bit, and then all three of them curl up on the sofa to watch another film. Louis is soft and cuddly with an excess of crinkly eyed smiles for the both of them, and Harry almost feels better by the time Bridget goes to bed.

He flips through the movie channels on the tv while Louis finishes tucking Bridget in, his mind stuck again on what Bridget said earlier. He doesn’t say anything when Louis settles down beside him on the sofa, but hums quietly in acknowledgement, and Louis rubs at the back of his neck.

“Hey,” Louis says, voice soft and warm and everything Harry loves about him. He pulls Harry closer and forces him to cuddle, maneuvering Harry’s lanky body between his legs and letting him settle his head on Louis’s chest. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, pressing his cheek into Louis’s chest to feel his pulse against his skin. “It was a long day.”

“Was Bridget snippy? She gets like that with me sometimes, I can have a talk with her if you want,” Louis says, rubbing the heel of his hand over Harry’s spine. Harry melts a little more, counting Louis’s heartbeats.

“We both were snippy,” Harry admits. “Dunno, everything just felt off today,” he shrugs.

Louis frowns, moving his hand to play with Harry’s hair. “Wanna turn in early?” he suggests, giving Harry a small smile when he turns to look up at him.

“Yeah,” Harry says, pushing himself off of Louis and leading the way to the bedroom. He doesn’t know if he should tell Louis what Bridget said, or keep pretending like it never happened. His heart races with anxiety when he thinks about telling him, but the idea of living without telling Louis about it makes him even more anxious.

Neither of them speak again until they’re curled up in bed, Harry’s body mostly on top of Louis. He throws his arm over Louis’s waist and presses his face into his neck, counting down the seconds until he opens his mouth.

“I just,” he says, panics, and closes his mouth again. “I don’t know.”

He can almost hear Louis frown, and he feels Louis’s fingers tug gently at his hair. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mutters again. “Bridget says things to me sometimes, and I just- I can’t figure her out,” he says.

“What kind of things?” Louis frowns. He sounds nervous, and Harry kicks himself for putting that tone in his voice.

“Like,” Harry shakes his head. “Like, she compares me to Amy, like, all the time. Everything I do, I feel like she’s watching me, evaluating me. I’ve told her before that I have nothing to do with her mum and that no matter what ends up happening between us, no one will ever actually replace her mum, but, I don’t think she gets it,” he admits. He wants to say more, wants to tell Louis that Bridget wants him to replace her mum, but he can’t make himself say it.

Louis sighs, tilting his head back against his pillow. Harry watches the gears in his head turning, and regrets saying anything at all.

“I think she just misses the family aspect, you know? We weren’t on our own for that long, just me and her, before you came into the picture. I don’t think she ever got completely used to being without two parent figures, she’s just trying to place you within the role that makes the most sense to her,” he reasons. It makes sense, really, but Harry doesn’t think that’s what’s going on here.

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry hums, putting his head back down instead of elaborating. “Okay. Goodnight,” he whispers, kissing Louis’s chest gently.

Louis doesn't push at all, smiling at him gently and pulling the covers up over his shoulders. Harry drifts off quickly, all swaddled in his warm embrace, the rain still falling in sheets over the house.

-

He wakes up with a violent start, Louis pushing him off his chest so quickly he nearly gets whiplash. It doesn’t register in his brain until a moment later that Bridget is screaming, and when he sits up, Louis is holding her tight in his lap. Louis smiles apologetically at him but Harry ignores him, watching Bridget worriedly.

“D-daddy,” Bridget wails, pressing her face into Louis’s chest. Her shaking hands are fisted in his t-shirt and Louis hugs her a little tighter, whispering in her ear until she calms down a bit. Harry watches on uselessly, sitting up a little more and trying to wake himself up.

“Did you have a bad dream, love?” Louis asks gently, looking down at her.

“There’s a monster under my bed,” she whispers, eyes wide.

Louis’s lips quirk up into a little smile and he glances over at Harry, shaking his head.

“Don’t be silly. This is a monster-proof house, there’s no monsters under the bed,” he soothes.

“Yes there is, I saw him,” Bridget whimpers, looking out the door to her own bedroom.

“Would it make you feel better if I went and had a look?” Louis asks, making to get up.

“No!” she shrieks, clinging to him. “Don’t leave me.”

Louis holds her quickly, lest she start crying again. He looks over at Harry helplessly, and Harry smiles softly. “Here, I’ll go have a look, then,” Harry says, his voice tired to his own ears.

He rolls out of the bed and pads across the hall, reaching into Bridget’s room to flick the light on before he actually goes in. He drops down to his knees and then to his belly beside her bed, peering into the small space between the mattress and the floor. He chuckles when he sees what’s there, reaching under to pull it out, despite Bridget’s whimper of protest from across the hall.

“All that I can see,” Harry says, sitting up and holding up Bridget’s favorite stuffed bear, “is this guy.”

Bridget nods, whimpering. “I know, I dropped him while I was sleeping. I went to reach for him and I saw eyes looking at me from behind him,” she explains.

Harry’s blood runs cold, wide eyes flicking to Louis’s. Louis opens his mouth to rationalize but Harry is already on his feet, sprinting back to Louis’s bedroom.

“Guys,” Louis laughs, wrapping an arm around Harry to pull him into the cuddle when he launches himself back into the bed. “There’s no monster under the bed, okay? Just like there’s no zombies in the drain, and there’s no witches behind the mirror,” he says. Bridget sighs but she seems appeased, nodding finally. Harry is less than convinced, though, and Louis pinches the back of his arm.

“Tell me more about these witches behind the mirror,” Harry says, as they all settle down into bed. His hands are actually shaking slightly as he curls up under the covers, peering up at Louis.

“Harry,” Louis hisses, “not now.”

Bridget smushes herself into Louis’s front, taking Harry’s favorite place to cuddle into and hogging it all for herself. Harry supposes he can let her have it, though, just for tonight. He turns over on his side and rests his arm over Louis’s hip, keeping Bridget safe and caged in between them, guarded completely from any monsters, zombies, and witches.

Bridget drifts off slowly, startling awake every few seconds to turn and check that they’re still there, still protecting her.

“Go to sleep, love, we’ve got you,” Harry assures her.

“Goodnight, Bridget,” Louis whispers.

“Okay,” Bridget mumbles, tucking her face under Louis’s chin. “Goodnight daddy, goodnight papa.”

Harry’s stomach drops, his face heating up immediately. Louis frowns and Harry tenses, feeling Bridget finally relax into sleep, leaving them to discuss that bombshell.

“Papa?” Louis questions, quietly enough that he won’t wake Bridget again. “Where did she even learn that?”

“Um,” Harry breathes, staring down at Bridget’s sleeping face. He should’ve known that that was why she was asking. “I may have told her some other names for ‘dad’ when she asked me the other day,” he admits.

“Oh my god,” Louis chuckles, looking down at her.

“She’s never called me it before, though, and I didn’t even think she would,” he says, rushed.

“She wants you to be her dad so badly,” Louis whispers, the smile fading from his face. Harry glances down at Bridget, unable to help his smile at her sleeping face.

“Yeah,” he mutters, reaching up to push a piece of Bridget’s hair behind her ear. “So do I, to be honest.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, and when Harry looks up at him, he’s just staring blankly into space. Harry’s smile drops, his blood slowly turning cold. He waits a few moments to see if Louis will say anything, but he doesn’t, and Harry is terrified.

“Why are you so quiet?” he breathes, watching Louis’s face desperately.

“It’s the middle of the bloody night,” Louis says. His voice is trembling.

“Louis,” Harry says, voice deathly quiet. Louis looks about two seconds from a breakdown. Harry can relate.

“I don’t know, okay, it feels like everyone has my life figured out except me. Even my five year old daughter thinks she knows what’s best for me and I’m still just as lost and confused as I was the day after the car accident and I-”

“Lou,” Harry stops him, touching his face gently. Louis flinches. Harry wants to cry. “Hey, you know you don’t have to want this,” he says, trying to remain optimistic, trying to remember that what Louis wants is the most important thing, and it doesn’t matter how Harry is feeling if Louis doesn’t feel the same.

Louis doesn’t say anything, sinks into the bed a little more. Harry feels like shit.

“Lou?” Harry whispers. Louis closes his eyes. “Do you want this?”

It takes a moment, but Harry waits. Fuck him, he’ll always wait. “I don’t know,” Louis breathes. “I don’t know what I want.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, focusing on keeping his breathing even. Louis doesn’t want him. Harry can feel the tears welling up in his eyes, can feel his chest starting to constrict. Eventually he sniffles, pulling back carefully and sitting up.

“I think I’ll go, then,” he whispers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He can’t lay here and pretend he’s okay, not if Louis is still on the fence about him. He can’t do this.

“Hey, no,” Louis reaches for him, but Harry moves away before he can get to him. “You don’t have to go, why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mutters. “I guess I just hoped that you weren’t still having doubts about me, seeing as how I’m in-” he stops himself with a sigh, shaking his head. He can’t tell Louis now. Not like this. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Louis asks, sounding panicked. “You’re what?”

“Nothing,” Harry breathes, thankful that he’s turned away so Louis can’t see the way his lip wobbles. “I’ll be on the couch.”

He leaves without another word, shutting the door behind him. He stands in the dark hallway for a moment, waiting, listening, wondering if Louis will come after him. He hears Louis take a shuddering breath through the door and his face crumbles, but he doesn’t let himself break down until he’s shuffled all the way to the couch.

He flops down and sobs into a throw pillow, shaking hands fisted in his hair. He knows he has to let Louis choose what to do here, knows he has to let Louis take the time he needs, and he knows he needs to be prepared for Louis to tell him that this isn’t what he wants after all. Right now, though, in the middle of the night, after everything was so good, he just can’t bring himself to accept it. He cries into the pillow for a while, telling himself he’s being stupid, telling himself he got in way too deep way too fast, telling himself he’s forcing Louis into this and blaming himself for all of it. Maybe Louis really isn’t gay, maybe Harry’s forcing him into thinking he can do this. Fuck, Harry is a horrible person. He needs to get out, and he needs to stay out until Louis decides what it is he actually wants to do.

He gets off the couch once the sun starts to come up; he didn’t sleep at all, and he’s too sad to even try by now. He shuffles to the kitchen and grabs a piece of stationery and a pen, scribbling out a message and doing his best not to get any tears on it.

I need to be alone for a few days. You need to make a decision, and it’s fine if you want to just stay friends, but I can’t do this anymore. I need to know how you feel about me. I’m sorry it came to this. -H

He goes to change out of the clothes he borrowed from Louis, folding them up on the arm of the couch and retrieving his own from the bathroom. He slips out the door once he’s dressed, locking it behind himself and walking to his car. He spends a couple minutes wiping at his face in the driveway before he finally pulls out, driving all the way home and falling into bed once he gets there.

He gets a couple hours of sleep in his own bed, until his phone wakes him up around 9am. He scrambles to look at it and panics when he sees Louis’s name, declining after the second ring. His heart is pounding in his chest but he can’t answer, can’t face Louis yet just to be told that Louis doesn’t ever want to see him again.

He locks his phone and cries into his pillow for a bit, realizing exactly how silly he’s being but not doing anything to stop it. Fuck, Louis is the most beautiful and kind and gentle person in the world and Harry is the worst, he can’t believe he ever thought he could get Louis to fall in love with him too.

He reaches for his phone again after a few minutes, because the least he can do is let Louis break his heart. He deserves it, anyway.

He can’t bring himself to call, so he opens up their text thread. He hesitates for a long few minutes but eventually finds words that are simple enough, and hits send with a trembling thumb.

To Louis: Did you get my note?

Louis responds immediately, like he was waiting by the phone for Harry’s message.

Louis: yeah can we please talk

To Louis: Am I going to like what you have to tell me?

Louis: i’m not sure honestly.

Harry crumbles, sobbing loudly into his empty room and curling into himself on the bed. Louis is going to tell him he’s done with this, obviously. He’s going to tell Harry that he doesn’t want anything to do with him and that he’s going to find a new babysitter and that he should lose Louis’s number for good. Harry’s an absolute mess, can’t even bring himself to reply to the text, dropping his phone onto the floor and wrapping himself like a burrito in his covers, hoping that with any luck he’ll just die here and Louis can be rid of him and they’ll never have to deal with any of it.

He cries for a good long time, until he eventually drifts back to sleep. He’s awoken again a few hours later by his phone ringing again, and this time Harry lets it ring out before he even looks at it. It was Louis. Obviously.

He can’t do this over the phone. He can’t call back and let Louis do this over the phone. He needs time to accept it, and to prepare for it. He needs time.

To Louis: I’ll be there tomorrow to watch Bridget. We can talk when you get home from work.

Louis’s three dots pop up immediately, and Harry watches until his message arrives.

Louis: please i don’t want to wait that long

To Louis: Well I do.

Louis doesn’t answer after that, and Harry breaks down yet again. God, Louis must hate him so much. Harry can’t blame him for wanting him out of his life, fucking hell, Harry wants himself out of his own life, too.

He leaves his phone in his bedroom and goes to the kitchen for a banana, curling up on the couch for the rest of the day. He distracts himself with films and old reruns of shows he watched as a kid and drifts in and out of consciousness all day, and when he finally goes back to bed and checks his phone, there’s not a single text or anything from Louis.

-

By the next morning, Harry has steeled himself completely for what’s to come today. He shows up at Louis’s house in ratty old jeans and a comfy t-shirt, because it’s raining again today and he knows they’re not going outside at all and he really just wants to be comfortable, because he knows he’s going to end today with a broken heart.

Louis lets him in with a forced smile and quiet hello. He looks unsure but he leans up for a kiss, and Harry turns his face. He won’t let Louis butter him up just to turn and around and break his heart later. He needs to be strong.

Louis looks hurt when Harry looks at him, but Harry doesn’t let himself feel bad. If he feels bad now, he’ll break down, and Louis won’t even get to work because Harry will be too much of a mess to even watch his child for him. God, Harry’s such a loser.

“So, um, B’s in my bed right now having a strop. It might do you well to make her some waffles, she’s in a mood. Obviously it’s raining, but please don’t let her watch too much television, I’m afraid her brain is going to rot out of her head,” Louis says, collecting his stuff.

“Got it,” Harry hums, looking through him. He can’t meet Louis’s eyes right now, even if he wanted to.

“Listen,” Louis says, quietly. “I’m sorry that-”

“Louis, not right now,” Harry bites, finally meeting his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t do this. “Just, go to work.”

“I just want to say that I’m-”

“Louis,” Harry cuts him off, a bit louder this time. “Please just go. I don’t even want to be here in the first place, you’re just making this harder.” He’s two seconds from tapping out, turning around and just going home. God, he’s not strong enough for this.

Louis frowns, shaking his head. “Listen, I know that you’re pissed at me right now but don’t you fucking dare take this out on Bridget. She has nothing to do with this, so get rid of that attitude and put on a smile for her, at least,” he spits.

Harry deflates a bit and looks reflexively toward Louis’s room, where he said Bridget is. He feels like absolute shit. He wants to cry. Louis thinks he’s angry, and Harry has no idea why. All he really feels is like he’s crumbling. “I know. Sorry,” he mumbles.

“I’ll be home at five,” Louis says, shrugging his jacket on. He sets his jaw and hesitates and then goes in for another kiss, but Harry turns away fully this time, afraid to let Louis see the tears that are building in his eyes.

Louis makes a horrible, pained little noise and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a click. Harry hangs his head and does his best to collect himself, taking a few deep breaths and waiting until he has himself in check before he shuffles to Louis’s bedroom to find Bridget.

He finds her tucked up in Louis’s bed with a book, a sour look on her face. She lights up a little when she sees Harry, but that only makes Harry’s heart break a little more. “Hi, love,” he says, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Daddy mentioned something about waffles?”

Bridget grins at him and crawls out from under Louis’s covers, plopping herself down in Harry’s lap and hugging him around the neck. “We missed you yesterday,” she breathes into his ear. Harry scrunches his whole face up over her shoulder, doing his best not to break down. “Daddy is so sad that he made you sad. Are you gonna make up?” she asks hopefully.

Harry pulls himself together quickly, but he’s sure his eyes are still wet when he pulls away to look at Bridget’s face. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Bridge,” he confesses.

Bridget looks shocked and distressed when she sees the look on Harry’s face, her lip pouting out as she cups his cheeks with her cold little hands.

“Please don’t be sad, Harry,” she coos, kissing the tip of his nose and drawing a wet little chuckle out of him. “You’re too happy to be sad, ever,” she says.

“I love you, Bridget,” Harry laughs, hugging her close for a long moment. She hugs him back as tight as she can, and when she pulls away, she has a determined look on her face.

“I love you too, and you’re not gonna be sad today. C’mon, let’s go have some waffles and then we can play the boardgame that nan got me for Christmas last year!” she says excitedly.

Harry gets her take his hand and lead him to the kitchen, and he makes them waffles and they play I Spy while they eat and then they play that boardgame and then they watch a film and then they play another game and rinse and repeat but Harry is too distracted to do any of it with any enthusiasm, and he knows Bridget can tell.

They’re back on the couch watching a film when Louis comes home, Bridget cuddled forcibly into Harry’s side while Harry rest his arm limply over the back of the couch. Bridget rockets off the couch when Louis comes through the door, nearly tackling him over with a hug.

Harry busies himself with playing with a rip in his jeans, anxiety building in his chest. This is the part he’s been dreading, the part where Louis breaks his heart and sends him on his way.

Bridget whispers something in Louis’s ear and they share a very serious look, and then Bridget runs off to her room, closing the door behind herself. Harry tenses up when Louis plops down on the sofa beside him, steeling himself the best he can. Louis doesn’t say anything, though, and the waiting is killing him, so Harry opens his mouth first.

“What did you want to talk about, then?” he asks, sounding vaguely disinterested. Perfect; if Louis doesn’t think he’s affected by this, then Louis won’t have to feel bad for hurting him, and Harry can get over this in peace without knowing that Louis feels bad for breaking his heart. If there’s one thing Louis should never feel, it’s bad. Louis sighs like he’s furious, though, and Harry finally looks over at him.

“Look, I understand that you’re mad at me, okay? I get it. And I get why. And I know that it’s probably making you feel so much better watching me suffer right now but please- Can you please stop acting like you hate me for, like, two seconds because it’s going to make it so much fucking harder for me to tell you how I feel,” Louis spits, getting a bit choked up toward the end. Harry feels like he just got slapped, because no, no, that’s not what he thought was happening.

He turns to face Louis and Louis does the same, crossing his legs in front of himself and looking down at them. Harry gives him a moment and then reaches for his hand, unable to stop himself, holding his trembling fingers in his own. God, Harry was so wrong about what this was about, wasn’t he?

That seems to open the floodgates, and when Louis’s words start coming, they don’t stop. “I feel like I don’t have a choice,” he starts, looking down at the space between them. “I mean, obviously I do, and maybe it’s just that I’ve already made the choice without meaning to, but I feel like I have no other option than to keep you around. We need you, Bridget and I, and I- I mean, I’ve thought about this a lot, like, more than you could ever know and I’ve thought about it from every angle, and I don’t see how we could function in a world without you. I feel like I have no choice but to keep you because if you left I think we’d all be so, so hurt, all three of us. Because this, this thing- this isn’t just about us, this is about Bridget, too. You made a comment once, like, you can’t believe how much I have to think about when it comes to her. Whatever we end up doing needs to benefit her, as well, and I know that if I let you go it’s going to crush her, which would crush me even more than I already would be,” he says.

“Then don’t let me go,” Harry whispers. Is it that simple? God, can it please be that simple?

“God, I’d hate to let you go,” Louis says, shaking his head. “But I’m so fucking scared. I’m not scared of being gay anymore, because that’s- I don’t even know, putting a name to it is the least of my worries. Being with you doesn’t feel like being gay, it feels like being in love,” he says, chuckling sadly.

Harry flinches, actually flinches. He opens his mouth to say, or maybe to scream me too! I’m in love with you too! But Louis cuts him off, nodding like he already knows.

“Yeah, maybe I might be in love with you, a little. But when I think about all that being in love entails, when I think about giving myself to you… When I think about having the same life with you that I did with Amy, it fucking terrifies me. I’ve been shit at commitment my whole life, and now that I’ve already loved and lost once, I’m fucking terrified to do it again.”

“Louis,” Harry breathes, trying to pull him closer. Louis resists and Harry doesn’t push, because he looks like he’s still not done, and Harry wants to let him say everything, give him all the time he needs. Louis isn’t going to let him go. Louis loves him. Harry’s never been so wrong and so happy at the same time in his whole life.

“I am so, so terrified of giving myself away like that again. And it’s not because I’m afraid you’ll die in a car crash, I know how unlikely that is. I’m just- I feel like I’m damaged, almost? Like, I’m so badly scarred from what happened with Amy I don’t know if I even want to try again, because I think about this beautiful life we could have together and I think about us and Bridget living happily ever after but that doesn’t happen, Harry, this is real life and what happens if my happily ever after gets fucked again? What do we do then?”

“You can’t think like that, Lou,” Harry says. “I know how scared you must be but if you keep thinking like that, you’ll never let anything good happen ever again,” he reasons.

“But it’s also, like- okay, maybe this isn’t something I should be focusing on, but, like, sex? When I think about having sex with you, it’s like- how does that even work? How does- like- and I’m just, like, I can’t even think, like, it’s so fucking scary to me to think about being touched like that by another man, I’ve literally never let myself think about it until I met you and now it’s like- god-”

“Louis,” Harry cuts him off, worried. Louis looks two seconds from an actual panic attack, over something that really doesn’t even matter. “Please breathe, okay?”

Louis takes a deep, trembling breath, calming himself down just a bit. Harry squeezes his hand, smiling at him encouragingly. “It’s like, I love you, and I want to be intimate with you but the images I have in my head are so fucking scary, I don’t know. I love you, and I want to be with you, and I want you to be with us forever but I’m so scared, Harry, I’m so scared.”

“What are you scared of, though? Louis, I love you too, okay? I love you and I understand that you’re scared, but I promised you I’d be here no matter what, and if going slow is all you need then, Jesus, I’m here,” he assures. He feels desperate for Louis to know that, desperate to not let another misunderstanding do this to them again.

“What if I’m not good enough?” Louis worries. “What if we finally get down to it and I’m finally able to give you everything and you decide I’m not what you want? It’s been about me all this time, but what if you change your mind?”

“Trust me,” Harry chuckles, pulling him closer finally. “I will never, ever change my mind about you.” He could go on and on about that fact; that’s the one thing he knows for sure anymore.

“So we can go slow? Like, we can keep the pace we’re at? You’re not going to give up on me?” Louis asks quietly.

“I’m never going to give up on you,” Harry assures. “Babe, I was only upset because I thought you still didn’t know how you felt about me. I’ll wait forever for you,” he hums.

“I know exactly how I feel about you,” Louis mumbles. “I’m just fucking terrified of it.”

“I wish you weren’t,” Harry frowns.

“Me too,” Louis sighs.

“What if-” Harry makes a quiet noise, thinking carefully about what he’s about to say. “What if I took initiative more often?” he suggests.

Louis frowns, shifting to look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Harry sighs, pursing his lips and organizing his thoughts. “Like, maybe I’ll start doing things I want to do, sometimes? Like, I’ll initiate kisses more, and I’ll ask for things sometimes, and maybe we can try getting a little closer in the bedroom? But, like, of course you can tell me stop before I’ve even started, if you want to. I never want to do anything you don’t want. But I feel like you’re so terrified of this stuff that you don’t even want to try it, and if we never try it, then this is never going to work out,” he admits.

Louis nods slowly, watching Harry’s face. “Okay, yeah, we could do that. That might work, actually,” he hums, sitting up a bit.

“Are you sure?” Harry says, shifting a little closer.

“Yes,” Louis smiles, watching Harry’s lips when he smiles too.

“So, if I kiss you right now, you’re not going to freak out?” Harry hums, inching closer.

“No,” Louis giggles, catching Harry’s face and letting him kiss him for a long moment. Harry melts into his lips, so pleased with this turn of events.

“And,” Harry says against his lips, “if I touch you like this,” he slips his cold hand up under Louis’s shirt, laying it flat against his tummy, “are you going to be okay?”

Louis shivers, nipping gently at Harry’s lip. “Yes,” he says quietly, waiting for Harry to make the next move.

“And if I play with you like this,” Harry trails his words down Louis’s neck, sucking a bit at the base, “will you let me?”

Louis whimpers quietly, tipping his head back and letting his eyes slip closed. Harry isn’t going to move on without consent, though, unmoving until Louis lets out a very breathy little, “yes.”

Harry grins against his skin, slipping his other hand up under Louis’s shirt and holding his hips while he kisses and sucks at his neck. Louis seems to be losing it a little, but he’s quiet, probably because Bridget is just down the hall.

Harry pulls his hands out from under Louis’s shirt after a moment, bringing them up to play with the top button of his shirt. “And maybe if I start to undress you, like this,” he murmurs, popping the button open.

Louis lets him do two buttons before his breathing starts getting ragged, anxiety tensing his muscles. Harry stops immediately, pulling his shirt closed and leaning in to kiss him thoroughly.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against his lips. He can tell Louis was building up to an apology, and Louis doesn’t need to apologize for anything, ever. “It’s okay.”

He redoes the buttons he undid and Louis keeps kissing him for a moment, until he needs to pull away to breathe. “Sorry,” he mutters, even though Harry already told him it was okay.

“Don’t be,” Harry smiles, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “It’s okay to want to go slow.”

“But,” Louis shifts, smoothing out his shirt. “Like, what if I never want to?”

Harry purses his lips, watching Louis’s face for a moment. “Louis,” he says, leaning in a little. “Do you find me attractive?”

Louis looks him over, carefully laying a hand over Harry’s chest through his shirt. He nods, meeting his eyes again with a tiny smile. Harry feels his entire being inflate, happiness swelling every inch of his body.

“I’m not worried about it,” Harry winks, pulling Louis against his chest again.

Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re awful,” he chuckles.

“I’m the best,” Harry argues, grinning.

“Alright,” Louis hums, sitting up and kissing him one last time. “I’m gonna go change. Why don’t you order some pizza or something, and maybe we can try again once Bridget’s asleep?” He offers.

“Deal,” Harry grins, reaching for his phone.

Louis sets off for his room and Harry flops back on the couch, grinning up at the ceiling for a long moment. Never in his wildest dreams did Harry think that this was how today was going to go, but fuck if he’s not absolutely thrilled to have been so wrong.

-

Harry takes full advantage of having Louis’s permission to start things more often, taking every opportunity he can to get his hands on Louis’s body.

There’s a lot more kissing, a lot more sleepovers, and every night, Louis lets him get a little further. They still haven’t done anything too monumental, haven’t even orgasmed in front of each other, but they’re getting there, and Harry is thrilled.

It’s Wednesday and Harry is feeling daring. Bridget went to sleep an hour ago and Harry is on top of Louis in Louis’s bed, both of them still fully clothed, annoyingly. They’ve been making out slowly for the better part of an hour, and Harry’s so hard he can barely stand it. Louis’s hard too, Harry can feel it under his thigh, and every time Harry presses down a little, Louis whines into his mouth. He’s counting himself down, inching his hands down Louis’s body, and Louis is totally fine until Harry gets his hand down the front of his joggers and cups his dick through his boxers.

Louis gasps and turns his face away, tugging Harry’s hand out of his pants and swearing up a storm.

“Sorry,” Harry chuckles, trying to get at his lips again, until he sees that Louis’s eyes are wild. The smile drops from his face and he sits up a little bit, giving Louis the leverage he needs to shove him over and escape from under him.

Harry’s breath leaves him a whoosh and Louis is moving frantically, leaping up from the bed and refusing to look at Harry. “Lou-” Harry breathes, sitting up, but Louis hisses.

“Don’t touch me,” he says, his body trembling. Harry watches in shock as Louis tugs at his own hair and looks down at his body, looking absolutely mad.

“Hey,” Harry tries, but Louis whimpers, backing away when Harry gets off the bed and steps toward him. Harry reaches for him slowly, but he’s done for, he’s fucked up bad.

Louis bolts.

Harry goes after him immediately, but Louis shuts himself in the bathroom and locks the door. Harry tries the handle and knocks gently, mindful of the sleeping child down the hall.

“Louis,” he says, heart racing with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I should have asked,” he says, leaning his forehead against the door. “I’m so sorry, please unlock the door, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Leave me alone,” Louis croaks, sounding distressed. Harry’s heart sinks, his body feeling heavy.

“Louis please,” he begs, “just unlock the door. You don’t have to do anything, we don’t have to keep going, you don’t even have to look at me if you don’t wanna. Just, please, tell me what I can do to make it better,” he pleads.

“Go away!’ Louis growls, slamming something in the bathroom. Harry flinches and tries the handle again, to no avail.

“Louis,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, “love, c’mon.”

Bridget’s door cracks open down the hall, and Harry looks up to see her little head peeking out worriedly. Harry gives her a careful smile, pushing away from the bathroom door.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, guiding her back into her room and into bed. “Go back to sleep, love, everything’s fine.”

“Is daddy okay?” Bridget asks, staring up at Harry with wide eyes in the dark while Harry pulls her covers up over her.

“He’s okay, I promise,” Harry says, forcing a smile even though he feels sick to his stomach. “Nothing for you to worry about. Go to sleep, alright? We’ll see you in the morning,” he assures.

“Okay,” Bridget mumbles, her eyes already falling shut. Harry waits until she’s sleeping soundly again before he creeps back out into the hall, closing her door quietly.

He finds Louis standing in the hallway, the light from the bathroom casting a sideways shadow over his body. He looks tiny, and when Harry steps closer, he’s shaking just a bit.

“Did we wake her?” he breathes, voice nervous and upset.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, she’s okay,” Harry assures, giving him a little smile.

“Good,” Louis nods, looking down at his feet. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry says immediately. “Don’t apologize. I should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have done that, especially without asking first. I’m so sorry,” he breathes.

Louis shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “No, I told you to initiate things, that’s all you were trying to do,” he mumbles. “Dunno why I freaked out.”

“Because I did that without consent,” Harry says. “I swear I’ll never do that again, Jesus, we’re talking about everything from here on out,” he says, shaking his head.

Louis gives him a little smile, stepping forward and out of the light, darkness falling over him. Harry steps forward to meet him in the middle and Louis falls into his chest, body relaxing easily against Harry’s.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Harry suggests, rubbing Louis’s back through his shirt. “Are you tired?”

“Do you want to try again?” Louis asks, pulling away and looking up at Harry’s face. He looks apprehensive, and Harry knows that Louis is only asking to make Harry feel better.

“No, love, not tonight,” Harry smiles. “Another night, when we’ve talked about it more,” he says.

“I want to, though,” Louis tells him, allowing Harry to lead him into his bedroom, climbing into bed beside him. “Like, all of it. I want to.”

“We’ll talk about it, yeah?” Harry says. “Maybe this weekend. We’ll plan it out so we both know what’s gonna happen, and we’ll both feel comfortable, but we can still stop at any point if we need to,” he says.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, tucking himself into Harry’s chest. “Sorry, you’ve probably never had a lay take as much effort as me,” he chuckles.

“Good thing you’re not just a lay, then,” Harry says, leaving a lingering kiss against Louis’s head. “You’re worth all the effort I have, and then some,” he says.

Louis smiles up at him and curls up a little, drifting off to sleep in his arms. Harry watches him for a bit, playing with his hair, and eventually he drifts off as well.

-

“And like always,” Harry is saying, as he parks the car in the driveway, turning to face Louis. “You need to tell me as soon as you start to feel uncomfortable, yeah? If we’re going to do this, you need to trust me to do it right, and I need to trust you to tell me if I’m not,” he says carefully.

They’re finally gonna try to go all the way tonight. Bridget is at Louis’s mum’s house for the whole weekend, which means they have the house to themselves for three days. They’ve discussed every second of the night from every angle possible and they both know the plan inside and out, gone and bought every supply they could possibly need, and even though Harry has reassured Louis relentlessly, Louis still seems nervous.

“I know,” Louis assures, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I’ve had no trouble thus far telling you to stop, have I?” he smirks.

Harry chuckles lightly, leaning over to kiss his cheek. No, he certainly hasn’t. Louis grabs their plastic shopping bag and leads the way into the house, closing the door after Harry. He’s already shaking slightly, Harry can see, the shopping back fluttering in his trembling hand.

He knows that Harry can clearly sense how nervous he is. He gives him another comforting smile and stops him in the living room, holding his hips and kissing him gently. “Why don’t you go take a shower, a very thorough shower,” he hums, winking at Louis as he takes the bag out of his hand, “and I’ll go start dinner?”

Louis nods, watching as Harry sets the bag down on the couch and makes to head off for the kitchen. Louis grabs his wrist and stops him, pulling him back.

“Wait,” he says, pulling Harry close enough that they’re aligned perfectly down their fronts. Harry leans down to rest his forehead against Louis’s, and Louis smiles as he lets his eyes fall closed. “Thank you for being so good about this. I know I’ve been a royal tit lately, so, thank you for being patient. I really do want this, I swear, I want you so bad. Thank you for not rushing me into it,” he says, peeking his eyes open to look at Harry’s face.

“Are you sure you don’t feel rushed?” Harry asks, running his hands down the length of Louis’s arms. “Because sometimes I feel like I’m pushing too far and, like, when you freaked out the other day-”

“Hazza,” Louis interrupts, smiling softly. “Stop, you’re perfect. I only freaked out because I wasn’t expecting it. We’ve planned this night out to the second, practically, as long as you don’t pull any curveballs on me, we should be fine,” he hums.

Harry smiles at him, pecking his lips one, two, three times. “Okay. Now go shower, and when I say thoroughly, I mean, like, you really have to-”

“Harry,” Louis laughs, pushing him away gently. “I get it. Ew.”

Harry grins at him, sticking his tongue out before finally setting off for the kitchen. He’s so relieved that Louis doesn’t feel rushed, because as much as Harry wants to finally be able to be intimate with him, he wants even more to never push or pressure him into anything. Louis has been through so much; the last thing he needs is a demanding boyfriend.

He flinches at the word in his own head, wincing at the fridge. With that he throws himself into making dinner, the white noise of the shower serving as a calming soundtrack as he boils the pasta and warms up the pre-made sauce. He won’t tell Louis that the sauce isn’t homemade- Louis thinks he’s some kind of a wonder chef, and while he does usually prefer to make things himself, he doesn’t quite feel like putting too much effort into anything that isn’t Louis tonight.

Once dinner is going he heads back to the living room, grabbing the bag off the sofa and bringing it to Louis’s bedroom. He takes out the condoms and lube and leaves them on Louis’s bedside, and then leaves the package of baby wipes on the other. He balls up the plastic shopping bag when it’s empty and turns around to head back to the kitchen, running smack into a half naked Louis on his way back to the kitchen.

He can’t stop his jaw from dropping, eyes sweeping over Louis’s bare chest and tummy. He’s fucking gorgeous, Harry cannot believe he gets to have him.

“God,” he breathes, reaching out to touch, just a bit. “Louis, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whines quietly.

Louis giggles softly, extra flirty. Harry wonders if he’s aware of the fact that he’s literally a walking sin. “Not yet, Hazza,” he hums, batting Harry’s hand away and walking to his dresser.

Harry walks back to the kitchen in somewhat of a daze, checking on the state of the pasta and then collecting the candles he brought from his bag by the door. He sets them up in little clusters around the kitchen and lights them, hoping that the scent and sight of them will be relaxing for Louis during dinner.

He checks the pasta once more once everything else is ready, giving it a good stir and pulling one noodle out to have a taste. He startles when Louis laughs from behind him, whipping around to see what’s funny.

Louis looks adorable, soft and warm and cuddly, his hair still damp and sticking up in cute little fluffs all over his head. He’s wearing a pair of slightly baggy skinny jeans and a soft t-shirt, looking like a vision of every cuddly fantasy Harry has ever had.

“What’s funny?” Harry pouts, looking around the room. “It looks nice.”

“Of course it does, love,” Louis giggles, walking over to sniff one of the candles. “But I thought we were having a date, not trying to summon the ghost of,” he reads the candle label, “Black Currant Vanilla?”

“It’s nice!” Harry argues, sticking his tongue out at Louis. “Doesn’t it smell nice?”

“One, maybe,” Louis hums. “But,” he takes a moment to count the candles around the room, rolling his eyes, “ten candles might be a bit overkill.”

“Eleven, actually,” Harry says, moving aside a bit to reveal another candle beside the stove. “It’s relaxing. I know you’re nervous, so the smell of the candles will help you to relax,” he explains.

“Yeah, I’ll be really relaxed when I pass out,” Louis chuckles, but his smile wilts a little. It seems like mentioning his anxiety has increased his anxiety, and Harry kicks himself for it.

“Lou,” Harry smiles, shaking his head when he sees how tense Louis’s shoulders are. He walks over to him, taking his hand and pulling him close. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, remember?”

“I want to,” Louis assures, pressing his face into Harry’s chest. “I’m just- nervous,” he mumbles.

“I know, love, but there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Harry tells him. “It’s just me and you. You trust me, don’t you?” he asks, pulling away to look at Louis.

“Of course,” Louis says immediately. “I know. I’ll be fine,” he says, assuring them both.

Harry smiles at him and ruffles his damp hair, before walking back over to the stove. He comes back to the table with two plates of pasta to find that Louis has blown out both of the candles on the table, and Harry scowls at him. Louis just smiles sweetly and Harry can’t help but be anything other than fond, shoving a forkful of food in his mouth so he won’t do something silly like profess his undying love for the man right here right now.

Louis is unusually quiet while they eat, and when Harry looks up at him, he can see that his hands are trembling slightly again. He purses his lips and nudges Louis’s foot with his own, giving him a comforting smile when he looks up. Louis grimaces in return and his eyes unfocus a bit, staring over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry frowns, getting a little uneasy now. Louis is far too nervous about this, Harry isn’t sure if he should be allowing this to happen.

“Louis,” he says, startling him out of his thoughts. “Okay?”

Louis blinks at him, shaking his head slowly. “What?”

“You look like you’re going to be sick,” Harry says carefully, watching him worriedly. “Are you really this nervous?”

“No,” Louis mutters, rubbing at his face. “No, we talked about this. I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assures, giving Harry a small smile.

Harry doesn’t believe him, but he nods anyway. “Okay. Why don’t you go pick out a movie, yeah? And I’ll clean up,” he says, taking Louis’s half eaten plate of pasta away from him. He doesn’t need Louis to have a stomach full of pasta if he actually throws up from nerves like Harry suspects he will any moment now. He thinks he might have to call this off, if Louis doesn’t settle during the film. He cannot justify going through with it if Louis is trembling in fear at the very thought of it.

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs, getting up and walking to the couch. Harry watches him walk away and then scrapes his leftovers into the bin, washing up the plates they used and clearing everything up before going to join him on the couch.

Louis is all spread out when Harry gets there, looking like a teenager trying to look inviting to a boy he likes. Harry bites down on his smile and plops down, cuddling right into Louis’s side and wrapping himself around him, hoping his body acts as some sort of security blanket.

It seems to work, for the most part. Harry can feel Louis’s pulse slow to a normal pace where his head is resting on his chest, and he seems to almost forget about the whole thing. Harry takes that as an opportunity to test the waters, resting his hand over Louis’s knee and playing with the rip in his jeans.

Louis doesn’t react at all, seeming focused on the film. Harry doesn’t even know what they’re watching, he hasn’t been paying attention since Louis turned it on.

Harry slips his finger through the rip in Louis’s jeans, rubbing back and forth over his kneecap for a few moments. Louis still seems fine, so Harry shifts to put his face in the crook of his neck, kissing gently at the skin there.

Louis finally seems to catch on, breathing out in a pleased little sigh. Harry takes his finger out of the rip and trails it up the inseam of Louis’s jeans slowly, stopping at the meaty part of his inner thigh and squeezing gently while he sucks a mark into the base of Louis’s neck.

Louis twitches, his hand traveling up Harry’s back to sink into his hair. He scratches lightly at his scalp while Harry nips at his neck, moaning quietly against the skin there. Harry braces himself for impact and rests his hand over Louis’s crotch, fingering at the seam right over his cockhead.

Louis gasps loudly, but as soon as Harry starts palming him, he goes pliant, whimpering quietly as his cock fattens up under Harry’s hand. Harry smirks against his neck, and Louis makes another little noise.

He pulls away and sits up a bit, keeping his hand firm over Louis’s crotch. Louis pushes his hips up a little, begging silently for more, and Harry grins at him.

“Okay?” he asks, starting to undo the button on Louis’s jeans. Louis nods quickly, pushing his hips again, all of his inhibitions gone. Harry knew somewhere deep in his mind that once they started Louis would be fine, and he’s so relieved to see it happening.

Harry starts touching him through his pants, watching Louis watch his hand. He tucks his finger under the waistband to touch skin, keeps moving until his hand is wrapped fully around Louis’s cock. He moves closer until his face blocks Louis’s view, grinning at him before locking their lips.

Louis groans into Harry’s mouth, thrusting up into his hand. Harry makes him work for it, just a little, holding his hand still and letting Louis do the work. Louis nips at his lips and reaches out to hold him, clawing at his back through his t-shirt and dragging him in closer. He’s so easy, so accepting of what Harry has to give him, it’s like he’s never been touched before by anyone. The thought is so incredibly appealing to Harry, he has to pull away and go off script a little.

“Lou,” Harry rasps, pulling away from the kiss. Louis’s hips slow a bit, and Harry strokes him a few times to keep up the pace. “Can I suck you?”

Louis appears to blank out a little bit, staring idly at him. Harry gives him a moment to answer, but Louis stays silent, and Harry smiles softly before he can start to panic again.

“That’s okay,” he whispers, giving him a little smile. “We don’t have to-”

“No,” Louis interrupts, whimpers a little. “Please. Yeah, please, now,” he says, bucking up into Harry’s hand again.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, eyes lighting up like Louis has just given him the best gift. “You’re sure?”

“God, Harry, yes,” he whines, dropping his head back. “Want it, please.”

Harry drops to his knees in front of the couch so fast he nearly hurts himself, but when he looks up Louis’s cock dribbles a little and he drops his head back again.

Harry tugs his jeans down a bit more, getting the tops of his thighs out. Harry is awestruck, staring at him. Louis flushes, and Harry grins at him. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Lou,” he breathes out, running his hands up his thighs and spreading them as wide as he can.

Louis goes silent when Harry finally swallows him down, all the breath stolen from his lungs. Harry bobs his head a few times, getting used to it, but then he hollows his cheeks and sucks, and Louis’s entire body trembles.

“Fucking hell, Harry,” he moans, reaching down to get a hold on his hair. He doesn’t push, doesn’t guide him in the least, just lets Harry do his thing and encourages him with desperate moans and gentle tugs on his curls.

Harry moans around him every time Louis pulls, only spurred on by every reaction he gets. He holds the base of his cock with one hand and reaches down between his own legs with the other, moaning a little harder around Louis’s dick.

“Harry,” Louis pants, letting go of Harry’s hair to dig his nails into his own thigh. “I’m- I’m gonna-”

Harry pulls off to breathe quickly, staring up into Louis’s eyes when he swallows him back down. He stares up at Louis’s face as he lets his cock nudge the back of his throat, and Louis loses it.

He throws his head back and shouts as he comes, reaching up to pull at his own hair. Harry swallows it all without difficulty and keeps sucking, licking incessantly at Louis’s cock while he jerks himself faster.

Louis picks his head up to watch as Harry finally pulls off, panting hard. He lays his head down on Louis’s thigh and whines, squeezing his eyes shut. Louis reaches out to play with his hair again and Harry gasps, his entire body tensing up for just a second before he releases, moaning deeply into Louis’s skin. He bites down when the temptation proves too much and Louis yelps, but Harry hardly hears him over the roaring in his ears.

Harry lets out a breathless little chuckle when his head clears, sitting up and looking up at Louis. Louis grins at him, completely boneless, and Harry’s eyes crinkle with delight.

He gets up off the floor and sits back down next to Louis, while Louis struggles to get his jeans back up. Harry reaches for a tissue from the coffee table to clean his hand off, but Louis stops him hesitantly.

“Wait,” he says, voice quiet and tired. “Um, can I…?”

“Can you?” Harry frowns, glancing down at his hand. His face softens a bit when he realizes and he looks back up at Louis, smiling slightly. “Are you asking to taste?”

“I’ve never,” Louis says, blushing deeply. “Like, I don’t know what it-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry hums, leaning in to kiss his lips gently. His dick twitches heartily between his legs, and he hopes to god that Louis doesn’t notice. “It’s not exactly very good, but feel free,” he says, offering his hand to Louis.

Louis takes his wrist and examines his hand for a moment, like he’s counting himself down. He goes for Harry’s thumb, where there’s a little bead of come dripping down, sucking it into his mouth and licking it off.

His face crumples immediately and he shakes his head, pushing Harry’s hand away while Harry laughs. “Ew,” he complains, scrunching up his nose while Harry wipes the rest of his hand off on a tissue.

“Told you,” he chuckles, getting up to toss the tissue out in the kitchen bin before he comes back to the couch.

“I can’t believe people enjoy that,” he says, pulling Harry back into his side. Harry giggles, wrapping his arms around him and tangling their legs.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he shrugs, looking up at Louis.

“Spunk is not a fine wine, Harold,” Louis says, horrified.

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, slapping his chest lightly. “This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”

Louis smiles, leaning down to drop a kiss into Harry’s hair. Harry squirms happily in his arms, nuzzling his face into his chest.

They make it through about another fifteen minutes of the movie before Louis gets bored, laying Harry out on the couch and placing himself right on top of him. They make out for the rest of the film, until Harry is hard and whining underneath him and Netflix has returned to the browsing screen. Harry thinks that the rest will be easy now, since Louis has had a little warm up.

“Bedroom?” Harry murmurs, breaking away from Louis’s lips and looking up at him. “Please?”

Louis blinks at him, nodding slowly. He’s nervous, Harry can feel his pulse spike, and he purses his lips.

“I’m fine,” Louis says, before Harry can worry out loud. “I’m fine.”

They roll off the couch and Louis leads the way to the bedroom, wringing his hands together. Harry takes him by the hips and kisses him again, slipping his hands up the back of his shirt and pressing their bodies together as he kisses Louis hard. He just wants Louis to calm down, to trust him, to relinquish control and allow Harry to show him that there’s nothing to be scared of.

Harry backs him to the bed, laying him down so, so gently. Louis goes easily, allowing Harry to climb right up on top of him, not breaking the kiss for a second. Harry straddles his hips and Louis touches him everywhere, to Harry’s delight.

When they finally pull away to breathe, Harry finds himself awestruck once again by the way Louis looks. He’s wrecked already, lips puffy and eyes smudgy with pleasure, hair all mussed and spiky and cute.

“Can I take your clothes off?” Harry asks, breathless. Louis’s breath hitches and he nods, trying not to go rigid when Harry rucks his t-shirt up. “Relax,” he breathes, kissing at Louis’s chest while he pushes the shirt up and over his head.

He lays himself over Louis’s body as soon as his shirt is gone, kissing every inch of skin that he can reach. He kisses down Louis’s torso and then down each of his arms, his fingertips, the small swell of his tummy.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry tells him, working to get his jeans open again. “Every bit of you. How fucking lucky am I?” he mutters, kissing at the skin just above the base of Louis’s half hard cock.

Louis closes his eyes while Harry gets his pants off, tilting his head back against his pillow. Harry kisses from his ankle up to his inner thigh and then gives his other leg the same treatment, murmuring constant praise and affection into Louis’s skin. Louis looks blissed out, lips parted slightly as he arches up into Harry’s touch.

Harry works his way back up his body until he finds his lips, kissing him thoroughly. Louis holds the back of his hair and kisses him like he never wants to stop, like he never wants Harry to leave him alone.

Harry sits up after a minute to get his own clothes off, tossing his shirt across the room and awkwardly wiggling out of his jeans. Louis stares at every inch of his skin as it’s presented to him, putting a smug smile on Harry’s face with the look of pure adoration on his own.

Harry straddles his hips again once he’s in just his briefs and Louis reaches out to touch, starting with the butterfly on his stomach. He looks like he wants to ask but he doesn’t, fingertips tracing around the edges of the tattoo and then sliding over his hip.

“Like what you see?” Harry grins, reaching down to brush his knuckles over Louis’s cheek.

“Mhm,” Louis hums, running his hands up Harry’s stomach to his chest once more. “You’re incredible. Absolutely gorgeous,” he says breathlessly.

Harry smiles a little harder, his heart soaring as he swoops down to kiss him again. Louis pulls him in by his shoulders and Harry moans softly into his mouth, grinding his hips gently against Louis’s.

He gasps into Harry’s mouth, cock fattening up a little more, and Harry builds up a steady rhythm. He seems to be enjoying it quite a bit, and Harry is so fucking pleased. Louis whines suddenly and claws his nails down Harry’s back, but Harry doesn’t stop until he’s really falling apart, rock hard and leaking on his own tummy.

Louis tenses up immediately when Harry shifts to grab for the lube, grabbing at his fingers as Harry sits between his legs. Harry rubs gently at his stomach and tries to soothe him, but Louis is still wound tight with nerves.

“Just relax, Louis,” Harry says calmly, spreading Louis’s quivering legs. “It’s not going to feel good unless you let it,” he says.

Louis nods and breathes out slowly, so Harry proceeds slicking up his fingers. He watches Louis’s face while he reaches down between Louis’s legs, tracing one finger delicately around his rim.

Louis freaks. He slams his legs shut up and tries to sit up, narrowly avoiding kicking Harry straight in the face. Harry abandons every course of action except kissing Louis calm, laying him back down slowly and kissing the air out of his lungs until his pulse isn’t beating quite so fast.

“Do you want to stop?” Harry asks, pulling away just far enough to look at Louis’s face.

Louis hesitates, but he shakes his head. “No,” he breathes, squeezing Harry’s hand. “No, I’m sorry. Try again,” he mumbles, spreading his legs.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, worried that if they try again Louis will force himself to do it, and Harry can’t risk hurting him.

“Yes,” he nods, watching Harry’s lubed up fingers. “Do it.”

“Louis,” Harry mutters, shaking his head. “Babe.”

“Harry, please,” Louis grits out, closing his eyes and opening his legs wider. “Please just do it.”

Harry wipes his fingers off on the sheets, leaning over Louis’s body to cup his face. Louis opens his eyes and Harry frowns, feeling Louis’s body trembling under his own.

“Baby, you’re shaking like a leaf,” Harry says, pouting a little in sympathy. “Why don’t we try again another day?”

“No,” Louis whines, surging up to kiss him. “I’m just, I- I need you closer. I can’t do this with you so far away from me, I need to-” he touches Harry’s body instead of clarifying, and Harry gets it.

“Okay, we can do that,” he soothes, reaching for the lube again. He gets his fingers coated and then leans down to kiss Louis again, waiting until he’s practically melted into the bed to bring his fingers to his hole again. He’s even gentler this time, making Louis focus on the kiss so that when he reaches down to get his fingers back to his hole, Louis will hardly notice.

Louis shivers anyway, but Harry just rubs tiny little circles over him until some of the tension in Louis’s body releases, and he’s able to start working his first finger inside. Louis buries his face in Harry’s neck and Harry kisses at his ear, moving his finger as slowly as he can manage.

“Doing so well, love,” he whispers, trying to keep Louis at ease. “Feel good yet? You feel so good around my finger, Lou,” he breathes.

He adds a second finger when Louis feels ready, and finally things get a little easier. Louis actually starts to relax, accepting Harry’s fingers, and he’s still not as comfortable as Harry would like him to be, but he’s getting there.

Once Harry adds a third finger, the floodgates open, and there’s no turning back.

Louis absolutely loses it when Harry finds his prostate, whining and moaning and squirming around. Harry holds him down a little and fucks him hard, doesn’t stop until Louis is gasping wetly in his ear, and Harry thinks he might come if Harry doesn’t ease up. He’s begging, almost in tears, for more, and finally Harry pulls his fingers out and reaches for a condom to give it to him.

Louis pulls himself together a little during the break, running his shaky fingers through his hair and watching Harry closely. Harry smiles at him a little while he rolls the condom on, even though Louis’s eyes are far from Harry’s own.

“Ready, love?” he asks, hovering over his face.

Louis nods, staring up at his eyes and breathing out slowly against his lips. Harry nuzzles his nose comfortingly and then looks down, watching what he’s doing as he carefully presses into Louis’s hole.

Louis grunts like he’s actually in pain, and Harry winces sympathetically. “I know,” he hums, stilling to let Louis get used to it. “It’ll be better soon, I promise.”

He bottoms out with a shaky sigh, touching Louis everywhere, pumping his cock slowly. Louis takes a long few minutes to calm down, let his body relax, let Harry fit inside his body. Eventually he breathes out and nods, and Harry takes that as a cue to start moving.

Louis whimpers under his breath and his hands fall away from Harry’s body, scrabbling at the bed sheets a little. He looks confused by what he’s feeling, like he’s never felt anything like it, and Harry smirks to himself. He fucks him long and slow, dragging it out, until eventually Louis huffs out a needy little plea for more. Harry gives it to him, and Louis responds so beautifully, releasing a tiny little noise with every thrust. Harry works harder, wants to hear every possible noise in Louis’s repertoire, wants to make him fall apart and wonder why he never tried this before.

He gets louder when Harry finds his prostate, nearly screaming into Harry’s ear. Harry grins and fucks him harder, gets his hand around his cock, and whispers into his ear how good he feels and how amazing he’s doing.

He thumbs at the head of Louis’s cock and Louis’s back arches off the bed, his jaw falling open in a silent scream as he comes, pulsing over Harry’s fist and his own stomach. Harry fucks him through it, getting more and more erratic as Louis clenches around him.

Harry comes hardly a second later, tensing up and shouting into Louis’s ear as he releases. He takes a few minutes to work himself through it, hips twitching in tiny movements, before finally he pulls himself together enough to pull out and look down at Louis.

Louis looks blissed out, panting, eyes closed and lips pulled up into a tiny smile. He starts to laugh as Harry gets up to throw away the condom and clean them both up with the baby wipes, and he doesn’t open his eyes until Harry gets back into bed with him.

Louis doesn’t need to say anything; Harry can see exactly how good he’s feeling. He looks happy and light and worn out, and Harry feels very much the same.

Harry tries to pull him close but Louis just rolls on top of him, kissing what little breath he has left right out of his lungs. Harry wraps his arms around him and slows him down, drawing out their movements until it’s just a lazy snog, neither of them putting too much effort into it.

They kiss until they’re both falling asleep, movements slowing to a stop. Louis pulls back an inch and smiles, nudging Harry’s nose with his own without even opening his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers directly into Harry’s mouth, kissing him once more. Harry grins into it, stomach fluttering happily, pulling back to look up at him. Louis smiles back and Harry touches him everywhere, tickling his sides and his neck and making Louis shriek, rolling away laughing.

“I love you too, you know,” Harry says, rolling right into Louis’s side. Louis tangles their legs together, burying his face in Harry’s hair.

They fall asleep like that, sweaty skin sticking together. Harry is so relieved, so fucking happy to be in Louis’s arms right now, knowing that they’ve gotten over one of the biggest things that Louis was afraid of, and things are going to be so good now.

-

Harry wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in, tucked tightly between Louis’s arms with his face pillowed on his soft chest. He pulls himself away slowly, unsticking their sweaty skin gently, and climbs out of bed.

He smiles down at Louis’s sleeping form for a moment and then plucks his pants from the night before off the ground, trotting across the hallway to the bathroom. He rinses off under the warm spray of the shower, clearing away all the sweat and leftover lube from last night, and then climbing out without washing his hair. Once he pulls his pants on he sneaks out to the kitchen, snooping around for waffle ingredients and the waffle iron.

He brings a tray full of food to Louis’s room when he’s finished, climbing back into bed beside him. Louis stirs when Harry shifts the bed, and then his eyes flutter open with a quiet, happy hum. He eyes the waffles and smiles, and Harry gives him enough room to sit up beside him.

“Jesus,” he mutters suddenly, leaning heavily into Harry’s side. Harry hides his grin his own shoulder, knowing exactly what Louis’s feeling, and hums sympathetically, rubbing his arm. “Feels like I-”

“Lou,” Harry stops him, eyes wide. “As much as I love your similes, I think this is one I don’t need to hear,” he giggles.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Louis blushes, punching weakly at Harry’s arm. “But, fuck, man, you didn’t tell me it’d hurt so much the next day,” he says, whining quietly when he shifts to get a bit more comfortable.

“Sorry, love,” Harry smiles. “You liked it, though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, tearing off a piece of waffle with his fingers, even though Harry put forks on the tray, and popping it in his mouth. “A lot. Way more than I thought I was going to.”

Harry smiles smugly, picking up his utensils like a normal person and digging into his own plate. “So you’d be interested in trying more? Like, different things?” he asks hopefully, watching Louis’s face.

“It depends on what ‘different things’ we’re talking about,” he says, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Harry. “Nothing too kinky, please.”

“How kinky is too kinky?” Harry asks, laughing at Louis’s horrified expression. “Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says, kissing the side of Louis’s head.

“But, seriously, what else can we try? Give me some options,” he says, munching on the waffle in his hand.

“Well,” Harry sighs, tipping his head back against the headboard. He considers his options, deciding they can work up to the truly kinky stuff. “You could top, or you could ride me, or I could ride you, and we can experiment with blowjobs, and rimming, if you want, and-”

“Wait,” Louis frowns, looking at his waffle. “What’s rimming? I’ve never heard of that,” he says.

Harry flushes, pursing his lips. “Well, it’s- it’s like, eating arse, I guess?” he stutters. He blushes when Louis just about chokes on his breakfast, feeling his cheeks flame when Louis looks over at him with a blush of his own.

“Are you serious? Is that a real thing people do?” he asks, looking horrified.

“Don’t knock it til you try it,” Harry hums, nudging Louis with his shoulder. “But maybe we can work up to that.”

Louis shakes his head, scoffing at his waffle. “Yeah, maybe,” he chuckles. “I think I’d like to top. I mean, obviously I’ve fucked girls before, is it that different?” he ponders.

“Better,” Harry smiles dreamily, “at least in my opinion.”

“Which do you prefer?” Louis asks, turning to face him a bit more. “Top or bottom?”

Harry shrugs, taking another bite of his food. “Depends. I quite like both, if I’m honest, and I think it’s important to be versatile in a relationship,” he says.

Louis laughs softly, shaking his head. “You say it like it’s some kind of art,” he chuckles.

“Maybe it is,” Harry grins, pinching his leg. “The art of orgasm, that’s an exhibit I’d like to go to,” he muses.

“You’re so weird,” Louis laughs, nuzzling his head into Harry’s shoulder. “So, what do you think? Can I try topping?”

“Now?” Harry splutters, looking down at him. He’s glad Louis can’t see the way his dick perks up under the covers. “Right now?”

“Why not?” Louis frowns, moving the tray to the floor. “You have anything better to do?”

“Anything better than getting fucked?” Harry scoffs, reaching over Louis for the bottle of lube on his nightstand and pressing it into his chest. “Absolutely not.”

Louis chuckles softly, taking the bottle from Harry’s hand and watching him turn over. Harry settles on his stomach, head resting on his folded arms, heart beating in anticipation.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, poking at Harry’s naked hip.

“Waiting,” Harry hums, turning to look at him. Louis looks perplexed. Harry supposes he should probably walk him through this a little. “I thought it might be easier if I’m on my stomach. Easier to reach,” he explains, wiggling his bum.

“Right,” Louis nods, crawling behind him to settle between his spread legs. Harry closes his eyes and pushes his hips back a little, groaning when Louis grabs his arse and squeezes.

Louis plays with him a little, kissing at the bottom of his spine and squeezing and pinching at his arse, humming against his skin. Harry’s still in his pants but he’s already rock hard, shoving his hips back into Louis’s hands with a silent plea for more. He feels Louis freeze up a little and resists the urge to whine in annoyance, turning his head to look back at him.

“Louis,” he pants, “please don’t be nervous. I’ll tell you if you do something wrong, but please, please just get going.”

“Sorry,” Louis murmurs, hooking his fingers in Harry’s waistband and pulling his briefs down his legs. He has to shift his own body to get them off of Harry’s long legs completely, but then Harry’s finally naked, and he can feel Louis’s eyes boring into his skin. He whines loudly, not holding back this time, shoving his hips back frustratedly.

Louis fiddles with the lube for a few moments and Harry decides to help him along, reaching back to hold himself open, spine arched and fingers pressing divots into his own arse cheeks. Louis’s breath catches a bit and Harry prays that he won’t back out, and then finally he starts poking at his hole.

He fucks around for a few minutes more before Harry is literally about to turn around and do it himself, and then he finally pushes one skinny finger into Harry’s hole. Harry sighs in relief and twists his hips a little, doing most of the work when Louis just sits there with his finger in him.

Eventually Louis snaps out of it a bit, holding Harry’s hips down with his free hand and adding a second finger. Harry sobs dryly into his pillow and Louis scissors him open, whining and hiccuping when he finally adds a third.

“Ready,” he pants, trying to glance back at Louis again. “Ready, Lou, please.”

Louis doesn’t look at his face, pulling his fingers out and reaching for a condom. He rolls it on with somewhat shaky fingers, Harry can see, and absolutely drenches himself in lube before finally lining up at Harry’s hole.

“Jesus,” Harry shudders, wincing at Louis. “Did you leave any lube in the bottle?”

“Shut up,” Louis huffs, grinning, biting at his lip as he finally pushes in.

Harry whines high and long in the back of his throat, his legs spreading a little wider, almost naturally, as Louis bottoms out. Louis leans down to bury his face in the back of Harry’s neck, taking a few deep breaths.

“Lou,” Harry rasps, reaching back to scratch at Louis’s scalp gently. “Move, please.”

“So polite,” Louis hums, pushing himself up onto his elbows on either side of Harry’s head. He pulls his hips back and snaps them back in experimentally, both of them groaning at the feeling.

He pulls out again and fucks back in a few times, building up a steady rhythm. Harry doesn’t hold back his sounds of pleasure, but Louis doesn’t seem satisfied, fucking him with awkward, jerky movements.

“Lou,” he says, glancing back at him.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, trying to fuck him a little harder, probably trying to make him fall apart like Harry did to him last night.

“Angle- fuck,” he cuts off when Louis thrusts particularly hard, regaining his composure. “Angle your hips down a bit, like, toward the front of my pelvis,” he pants, reaching back to try and shift Louis’s hips.

Louis frowns and tilts his hips down, shifting a bit with every thrust to try and find the right angle.

“No, more like you’re fucking down, not straight in,” Harry says, chewing at his lip. “Aim for- fuck, right there,” he suddenly moans, his body convulsing when Louis finally nails his prostate head on. “Fuck, yes, right there.”

Louis smirks, fucking him a little harder, working to maintain the angle. Harry absolutely loses it, whining and moaning into his pillow, fucking his hips back every time Louis fucks forward. He buries his head in his arms and allows himself to just love it, pushing back into Louis’s hips like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to come, worked up and overwhelmed. He fucks in hard and stills, biting into the back of Harry’s shoulder, and whining as he comes.

He pulls out when he’s finished, tying off the condom and tossing it toward the bin. Harry gets his hand under himself, fucking into his fist. Louis nudges him to turn over and he does, not taking his hand away from his own cock.

Louis knocks his hand away as soon as he’s on his back, settling down between Harry’s legs again. He takes hold of him and strokes him slowly, watching as Harry’s back arches off the bed.

He plays with him a few moments, flicking his wrist this way and that just to see what kind of reaction he gets from Harry. He leans down after a few minutes and licks at the underside of Harry’s cock, and that
does it for Harry.

Harry arches and shouts, body trembling as he comes all over himself. Louis watches him the whole time, stroking him through it, not stopping until Harry is nearly crying, batting his hand away.

“Holy f-fucking shit,” Harry whimpers, still shaking a bit as Louis wipes him down. “Fuck, that was so good.”

“Really?” Louis hums, laying down beside him and letting Harry cuddle up against his chest. “From the way you were whining and grunting, I thought it might have sucked,” he teases.

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, pressing a kiss over Louis’s heart. “Did you like it?” he asks, propping his head up to look at Louis.

“I’ve had better,” Louis sighs, shrugging his shoulder. Harry’s face falls immediately, and Louis grins. “I’m kidding, you loser. Yes, that was the most incredible round of sex I think I’ve ever had,” he chuckles.

“Good,” Harry smirks, putting his head back down.

They cuddle for a bit, to Harry’s absolutely delight. He dozes in and out of consciousness for a couple hours, feeling drugged with love and warmth and affection. Louis just holds him, smiling down at him every time Harry looks up, and eventually Harry can’t keep himself from rolling over on top of him again, and they spend the rest of the day just like that, tangled up in each other.

-

They take Harry’s car to get Bridget from Louis’s mum’s the following morning. They’re planning on stopping by the cemetery on the way there because Louis hasn’t been since the funeral, and though it makes Harry sick to think about, he understands why Louis wants to go. They’ve already discussed it and Louis wants to go to her grave by himself, which will give Harry the perfect opportunity to freak out a little in the car by himself.

Louis has come an incredible distance this past weekend, and though Harry is thrilled that he seems so happy now, he can’t help but wonder if this is going to make him freak out again. He prays that it won’t, that this will be the bit of closure Louis needs to finally move on and be able to love Harry the way Harry can tell he wants to.

He pulls into the car lot that his GPS directs him to, pulling into one of the spots that faces the yard, the sea of headstones looking like an army of peaceful little beds. Louis stays seated for a long few moments, staring out at the yard, until Harry leans over to kiss his cheek and whisper a gentle “I love you,” in his ear.

He watches Louis shuffle down the pavement that winds through the yard, turning his car off and leaning back in his seat a bit. He doesn’t know which headstone is Amy’s, but finally Louis stops in front of one under the shade of a massive oak tree. It’s not too far from the car, which means Harry can see the way Louis’s face crumples a little as he drops to his knees.

His back is mostly to the car, so Harry can’t see him terribly well, but he can see that he’s talking out loud. He watches him sadly, seeing the way his shoulders start to shake after a bit, the way he keeps bunching up his sleeves and wiping at his face.

He almost wants to get out and run to him, hold him in his arms until he stops crying. He knows he can’t, though, knows he shouldn’t, so he just swallows the lump in his throat and tries to pry his eyes away. He sits there for an agonizing amount of time, just talking to the headstone, telling Amy everything that’s happened since she’s been gone.

Eventually Louis stops talking and just hangs his head, and Harry watches until he finally straightens up and climbs back to his feet. Harry drags his eyes away and looks down until Louis is within a few feet of the car, and he gives him a soft smile through the window.

Louis is silent when he gets in the car, dropping his head back against the headrest and sighing deeply. Harry holds his arms out and Louis collapses into him without even opening his eyes, and Harry holds him tight and pets at his hair for a long few minutes.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks finally, after they’ve been quiet for long enough. Louis turns to look up at him, meeting his lips in the gentlest, warmest kiss they’ve ever shared.

“I’m okay,” he says, pulling back and giving Harry a little smile. “I feel better, actually. I told her everything, you know, about us. Maybe it’s pointless, I don’t know what I believe in, but I feel better having said it out loud, even if she can’t hear me,” he shrugs.

“I think she can,” Harry tells him, squeezing him a little. “I don’t know exactly where she is, either, but I know she’s looking down on you. I know she’s happy for you,” he whispers.

Louis smiles, even as he feels another tear roll down his cheek. Harry is quick to kiss it away, pulling him back against his chest.

He cuddles him until Louis has recovered completely, eyes finally dry and bright again. Harry sees him smile out of the corner of his eye as they leave the cemetery and head toward his childhood home, and he decides that this must have been a good idea all along.

Harry holds his hand and lets him direct him toward the house, listening attentively as Louis points out all the landmarks from his childhood. Eventually Louis directs him into a driveway, and they walk in a comfortable silence up to the door.

Bridget throws herself at Harry when she opens the door for them, surprised to see him. Harry laughs and holds her on his hip, following Louis inside the house and situating himself somewhat behind him when his mother rounds the corner.

“Louis, darling,” she smiles, giving him the biggest hug. Louis presses his face into her neck, clearly taking all the comfort he can get. Harry’s heart aches with affection for him. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” he says, an echo of what he told Harry earlier. It must be the truth, though, because he smiles. “I really am.”

“Good,” Jay grins, squeezing him once more. “You must be Harry,” she says, pulling away and addressing Harry now. “Bridget has been talking about you all weekend.”

Harry blushes, grinning at Bridget. Bridget giggles and hugs him around the neck, and Louis steps a bit closer to curl his hand around Harry’s hip. Harry glances at him quickly, and Louis’s fingers dig into his skin through his t-shirt.

“Harry this is my mum, Jay,” he says, waiting for them to shake hands. “Mum, this is my boyfriend Harry.”

Harry feels his jaw drop, all the blood in his body rushing to his face. Louis looks a bit surprised at himself, as well, but when he looks over at Harry, Harry grins at him so hard he nearly pulls a muscle.

Louis holds his hands out for Bridget and she throws herself at him bodily, nearly knocking him over backwards. They hug for a moment and Harry watches gleefully, wrapping his arm around Louis’s waist when he’s steady on his feet and sandwiching Bridget between them.

Harry looks at Louis’s mum for the first time since the confession, gauging her reaction. She looks shocked, but proud, not upset in the slightest.

Louis sets Bridget down on her feet and she grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him away from the front door. “C’mon, Harry, I’ll give you a tour,” she says excitedly, dragging him through the doorway into the kitchen. Harry glances back just in time to see Louis’s mum wrap him up in a hug, and his heart swells so fast it nearly explodes in his chest.

They leave after Bridget shows him every nook and cranny of the house, and Louis suggests they go for dinner on the way home to celebrate their finally being official. Bridget seems absolutely thrilled about the development, chattering about it the whole ride.

She doesn’t ask any questions, though, not until they’re seated in the restaurant. “So,” she says, propping her elbows up on the table and flicking her eyes between the two of them. “Daddy, Harry is your boyfriend now?” she asks.

“Yeah, love,” Louis smiles, glancing over at Harry. “Do you understand that?”

Bridget nods, grinning at him. “Yeah, like, before mummy was your wife, she was your girlfriend, right?”

“Exactly,” Louis hums. Harry just grins at his starter salad, pinching his own thigh under the table to keep himself in check.

“So when you and Harry get married,” she says, making both men flinch a little, “Harry will be your husband?”

Louis glances over at Harry, and Harry just smiles and takes his hand. “When we get married,” he says, staring right at Louis’s eyes, “I’ll be daddy’s husband, yes.”

“Okay,” Bridget hums, picking at her chicken nuggets. “Can I be the flower girl at your wedding?” she asks, looking excited suddenly. “Like when auntie Lottie got married, and I got to throw flower petals? I’ll be older this time, so I’ll do even better,” she promises.

“Alright, Bridget,” Louis laughs. “You can be our flower girl if-” he cuts off, glancing over at Harry, “when we get married.”

Harry kicks him under the table, so happy he could burst. Louis just laughs and leans over to kiss his cheek, getting a squeal of excitement out of Bridget.

They don’t stay out long, because Bridget is getting tired and it’s evident in the way her energy turns frantic, the same way Louis’s does when he’s exhausted. Harry finds it absolutely adorable. They give her a bath as a team when they get home, as per request of both Bridget and Harry.

“Daddy,” she says, as they get her into her pajamas. “Will you read me a story?”

“Course I will, love,” Louis smiles, kissing her forehead.

“And will you sing me a song, papa?” She asks, looking up at Harry.

Harry’s heart jolts at the word, a slow smile spreading over his face. He feels like he could scream with joy, looking over at Louis and finding him grinning back. “I’d love to,” he breathes.

Harry cuddles Bridget while Louis reads the story Bridget picked, both of them giggling at all of the voices he gives each of the different characters, his dramatic rendition of a picture book. They all settle in when he’s done, Louis cuddling Bridget’s opposite side, and Harry tilts his head back and starts to sing.

“Come away with me,” he sings, “in the night.”

Louis grins, closing his eyes while Harry sings. Harry tries to focus on Bridget, but Louis is all he can see, beautiful and happy and all his.

“Come away with me, and I will write you a song.”

Louis hums along with him for a moment, Bridget’s eyes drooping where she’s snuggled up between them. “I want to walk with you, on a cloudy day,” Harry sings, glancing over at Louis. Louis grins back at him, joining him on the next lyric.

“In fields where the yellow grass grows knee high, so won’t you try to come.”

He lets Harry finish out the song, until Bridget is sleeping soundly between them. They creep out of her bedroom together, and Harry pulls Louis right into bed.

“She called me papa,” he says, sounding close to tears. “She called me it. Louis, she called me it,” he says.

“I know,” Louis grins, pulling him in by his hips and kissing his lips chastely. “It’s because she loves you, and so do I,” he whispers.

Harry hugs him, throws his arms around him and buries his face into his neck. Louis grins and hugs him back, turning his head to press his nose into the length of his curls. Harry is sure he’s never been this happy in his life; he’s wrapped up in the arms of the man he’s been fighting for since the day he met him, and he’s been accepted into his little family, and they’ve both finally found their forevers.

-

One Year Later

Harry watches himself in the mirror as he fiddles with the second to top button on his shirt, doing and undoing it over and over. Louis catches him from across the room and rolls his eyes at him, and Harry pouts at him in the reflection.

“It’s so uncomfortable,” he whines, pulling the button open again and dropping his hands to his sides. “Why can’t I go like this?”

“Because this is a school function,” Louis grins, “a primary school function, and no one wants to see your whole chest, love,” he explains.

“I can think of one person who wants to see it,” Harry argues, whirling around and crossing his arms over his (mostly covered, thank you very much) chest.

“Of course I do, babe,” Louis rolls his eyes again. Honestly, he’s gonna hurt himself with the amount of times he rolls his eyes at Harry in a single day. “But I’m sure Bridget’s teachers and friends’ parents would appreciate you keeping your tits to yourself.”

Harry grumbles quietly to himself, looking down as he reaches for the damn button again. Louis knocks his hands out of the way, though, doing the button up himself, and then pulls Harry in for a quick kiss by the collar of his shirt.

“You look great,” he tells him, pecking his lips once more before turning around to go finish putting his wristwatch on. Harry watches him for a moment, overwhelmed with affection, and then ducks out of the room before he can act on it.

He peeks into Bridget’s room on his way to the kitchen, finding her on the ground with her legs wide open, fancy dress be damned, struggling with the buckle on her shoe. He watches her from behind the door for a moment, reflecting on how much she’s grown in the past year. She’s about a head taller, for one thing, but she’s also somehow gotten even smarter. She’ll be seven soon, which doesn’t seem right. She’ll forever be the clever little five year old that she was when Harry met her; he can’t stand the thought of her growing up and away from him or Louis at all.

She jumps when he steps into her room, but then she thrusts her foot out at him. “Papa, please,” she huffs, “help me. These buckles are stupid,” she says.

“I heard that!” Louis calls from across the hall. “No S word in this house, please!”

Bridget flushes, blinking like she can’t believe she got caught. Harry grins at her and leans close to her ear, making her lean in in response. “That’s a stupid rule,” he whispers pointedly. “Don’t tell daddy I said that.”

Bridget giggles and holds out her pinkie, locking it with Harry’s for a moment. When they let go Harry does up her shoes for her and helps her to her feet, following the clicking of her mary janes down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Are you excited for tonight?” he asks, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. They’re getting dinner after they leave the concert, but he knows he’ll need something to hold him over until then. “Got all your songs memorized?”

“Of course,” Bridget chirps. “I even have a solo, I had to come prepared,” she says matter of factly, eyeing Harry’s snack.

“Good, then,” Harry grins, breaking off the top half of his banana for Bridget and then biting into what’s left of it. “I’m so excited to hear it.”

“As am I,” Louis adds, smoothing out the cuff of his sleeve as he enters the kitchen as well. He steals a bite of Harry’s banana right out of his hand, scurrying away when Harry swats at him.

“Can a guy have a snack in this house without losing three quarters of it?” Harry wonders out loud, staring at the bit of banana he has left. “Is the Tomlinson family some distant descendent of seagulls?”

Louis laughs brightly and Bridget squawks like a seagull, pecking at the side of Harry’s leg with her nose. Harry can’t be upset for even a second around these two, he thinks, as Louis flaps his arms like a bird and steals the rest of the banana out of Harry’s hand.

The three of them pile into Louis’s car, running only a few minutes late, Bridget babbling excitedly in the backseat the whole ride to her school. It’s only a five minute drive, but by the time they get there, Bridget has talked them through the entire rehearsal and preparation process leading up to tonight’s show. It’s the fall show, the first one of the school year and Bridget’s first one ever. Harry already knows he’s going to cry, and Louis said he wouldn’t, but he probably will too.

Louis escorts Bridget to the cafeteria, where the students are supposed to meet before the show, while Harry goes to find his seats in the auditorium. The stage is decorated with oranges and reds and yellows, very autumnal, with big paper leaves hanging from the curtains. Harry gets a seat as close to the front as he can manage, since they are a bit late, and a few minutes later Louis finds him and drops into the chair next to him.

“Is she nervous?” Harry asks him quietly, tangling their fingers when Louis reaches for his hand blindly.

“Probably, but she’ll never show it,” Louis chuckles. “You should’ve seen her back there, she’s friends with everyone. She’s like the life of the party, as soon as she walked in the room got brighter.”

“She’s just like you,” Harry grins, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“Oh, hush,” Louis blushes, glancing over at him with a tiny smirk.

The lights go down after a few minutes and the audience quiets, the older kids starting to file onto the stage. They only have to sit through a few short performances before the kids in Bridget’s class come out on stage, as well, filling in all the empty space on the risers in front of the older kids.

They sing two songs, one about the sunshine, and one about being a good friend. Bridget has a short solo in the second song, along with a few other kids, but Louis and Harry cheer louder than anyone else in the entire room.

Bridget beams at them, giving them a tiny little wave before she trots back to her spot on the risers. Harry doesn’t tear up, surprisingly, but he pretends not to notice when Louis subtly wipes at his eyes.

The concert is less than an hour altogether, and when it ends they wait outside the auditorium for the kids to be released from the cafeteria. Bridget runs to them immediately, crashing into Louis’s arms first, and Louis picks her up and twirls her around.

“That was so amazing, love,” he says, burying his face in her hair. Bridget giggles over his shoulder, squeezing him with all her might. “Mummy would be so proud of you,” Louis says, pulling back and giving Bridget a watery smile.

“She is,” Bridget says, pecking the tip of Louis’s nose with a tiny kiss. “I can feel it.”

Louis beams at her and puts her down, turning away a little to get himself together while she runs to Harry. Harry picks her up and twirls her around too, but he keeps an eye on Louis, and by the time he’s done telling her how proud he is, Louis is fine again.

Bridget dances her way to the car when they leave the school, her black satin dress fluttering in the wind. They go to a little Italian restaurant by the coast for dinner, and it’s still warm enough to sit outside, so that’s what they do. Bridget eats most of the bread they get before their meals and chatters excitedly about her classmates and recapping the concert, and Harry tries his hardest to listen, but Louis keeps giving him these little looks out of the corner of his eye and he can hardly concentrate.

Bridget doesn’t quiet when their main courses come, nor when they order a piece of chocolate cake to share for dessert. Eventually Louis rests his hand over hers and smiles at her, effectively quieting her.

“I love hearing about this,” he says, glancing up at Harry again quickly. “But can I talk for a moment?”

“Sure,” Bridget says cheerily, waving him on with a dainty hand. Louis chuckles and catches Harry’s eye, and then he reaches into his pocket.

“I have something for both of you,” he says, turning first to Bridget. “First, for you, because I’m so proud of you,” he tells her, leaning around the table to press a kiss to her cheek before he pulls out a little velvet jewelry box, opening it up to present her with a small silver bracelet with a couple small charms hanging off of it.

Bridget gasps, grinning up at Louis. “Thank you, daddy,” she says earnestly, holding her wrist out for Louis to clasp the bracelet around it. “It’s lovely,” she says, ducking her head to hide her smile and admire the charms.

“You’re welcome, love,” Louis hums, squeezing her little shoulder.

“That’s beautiful,” Harry says, meeting Louis’s eyes as he pulls out another small jewelry box.

“And for you,” he says, laughing when Harry’s eyes widen, “no, not that. Not quite yet, anyway.” Harry just nods distantly, eyes glued to the jewelry box in Louis’s hand. Louis opens it and holds it out for Harry to see, grinning when Harry’s eyes well up a little. It’s a simple silver band with a knot on the top, nothing too flashy but exactly Harry’s style. “It’s a promise ring,” Louis explains, pulling it out of the box and turning it over in his hands. “A promise that someday, not quite yet, but someday we’ll, you know, I’ll ask you to marry me,” he blushes. Harry laughs wetly and Louis grins, reaching out for Harry’s hand. “So what do you say? Promise you’ll marry me someday?” he asks hopefully, fingers trembling a little.

“I promise,” Harry gushes, cheeks aching with the force of his smile as he thrusts his hand into Louis’s. Louis grins around a sigh of relief and slides the ring onto Harry’s finger, pressing a gentle kiss over it.

Bridget screeches happily, making both men jump. Harry had almost forgotten she was there in his haze of bliss, the ring cold and perfect on his finger.

“This is the best day ever!” Bridget cries, reaching both of her hands out for Louis and Harry. They form a little triangle with their hands, all of them laughing gleefully, the ring shining on Harry’s finger.

“I haven’t forgotten that I promised you could be the flower girl,” Louis tells Bridget, laughing when she squirms happily in her seat. “It’s still a ways away, but I’d like to renew that promise,” he offers.

“Yes,” Bridget shouts, her voice too loud because of how excited she is. “I can’t wait. Oh, can we do it soon?” she pleads.

Louis laughs, eyes twinkling at Harry. “We’ll have to see about that, love,” he says, but there’s a look in Louis’s eyes that tells Harry it’s not gonna be as long as he’s making it seem.

Harry’s body feels flooded with joy, like he’s drowning in it, unable to feel anything but that. He pulls his hand away from Louis’s after a bit and examines his new ring a little closer, his smile lighting his face up all over again.

“You like it?” Louis asks, chewing on his lip as he watches him.

“I love it,” Harry assures him, giving his hand to Bridget when she pulls at his sleeve so she can see it too. “I love you,” he adds.

“I love you too,” Louis says, his cheeks flushing just a bit. Bridget squeals again quietly and Louis glances over at her, laughing, apparently overcome with something akin to what Harry is still feeling, as well.

The rest of dinner passes in a blur of smiles and giddy laughter, as does the drive back home. They tuck Bridget into bed with one more round of praise and admiration of her performance earlier, and then they fall onto the sofa together with a glass of wine each and a film on the telly.

Louis catches Harry staring at his promise ring more than a few times, and finally Louis leans over into him and smiles into his chest.

“I’m so happy,” Louis says, reaching for Harry’s hand and twisting the ring around his finger. “I can’t believe I get to keep you forever.”

Harry squeals quietly, mimicking Bridget at dinner, and presses his smile into Louis’s hair. “I can’t believe you promised to keep me forever,” he mumbles. “Never gonna be able to get rid of me now.”

“Good,” Louis breathes, pressing a kiss to the pad of Harry’s ring finger. “I never want to.”

Louis falls asleep on his chest after a bit, and Harry leaves both of their half finished glasses of wine on the table in favor of carrying him to bed. He strips them both down and tucks them up under the covers, Louis’s body curling naturally around his own. It’s been a year, a little more at this point, that they’ve been together, and Harry has never been so consistently happy in his life. He falls asleep wrapped up in Louis’s arms and dreams of getting to do it again and again every night for the rest of his life.