Work Text:
It happens like this:
Louis pulls him aside early on in their time at Harry’s bungalow and says: “Zayn wants to kiss Liam.”
Harry thinks, okay why are you telling me this? And, why isn’t Zayn telling Liam this?
And then Louis follows it up with, “And I’m pretty sure Liam wants to kiss him back. So I have a plan.”
Harry hasn’t known Louis for very long, but this seems pretty on par with Louis’ personality, so he just nods; he’ll go along with just about anything Louis says at this point. He hadn’t meant for it to work out that way, but sometimes these things just happen; he’s not going to question it.
Harry thinks he’s a pretty laid back guy; so when he’d seen Louis for the first time - in the bathroom of all places, muttering oops cause he’d full on peed on the other boy - and felt a spark of adrenaline when he'd met those baby blues, he’d thought, well, alright then. He hadn’t worried too much about it then, and he’s not too worried about it now. He’s been attracted to boys before, but this had been different. Less of a curious i think i’d like to kiss you and more of a definite i would happily get on my knees for you.
He’s also pretty sure Louis knows of Harry’s attraction to him - Harry’s not exactly winning awards for subtly here. Harry’s not ready to put it into words yet. He’s enjoying this careful teasing they’ve got going on, long looks and a slight push to see how far they can take it before one of them breaks. He thinks he’s winning, on a count of he’d stripped down to the nude yesterday and jumped in the pool; he’d done it partly for shock value, partly because why the fuck not and partly to see the heated look in Louis’ stare.
(Also partly because Liam was staring at him like he was crazy, and he’ll happily continue running around naked till Liam’s no longer blushing and stammering.)
So Louis plots out a night of seven minutes in heaven, which really takes no plotting at all and is really just them shoving Zayn and Liam in a closet and setting a seven minute timer on one of their phones. It’s pretty lowkey compared to some of Louis’ other plans. Niall and Louis start taking bets on whether they’ll actually kiss.
Except then Zayn and Liam stumble out of the closet, looking right ruffled, and - is that a love bite on Liam’s neck?
Zayn says: “Your turn.”
Harry’s only half listening, to be fair; him and Niall are wiggling their eyes at each other over exaggeratedly, and Harry can’t stop giggling. He’s quite gone for all these boys. He thinks Niall gets it.
“Now you wanna make out with me? Make up your mind.”
Harry takes a second to wonder if that bothers him. What he feels for Louis is different than what he feels for the rest of the boys, but he doesn’t think he’d blame Zayn for wanting to make out with Louis. He’s not sure how Liam would feel about that though, on account of the heart eyes he’s been giving Zayn since they walked out of the closet. (And for the past week, if Harry really thinks about it. Liam hasn’t been subtle, but Harry isn’t bothered enough to pay attention to these things until after the fact.)
He thinks about telling Louis all this, that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Not yet, at least. Maybe when Liam is more comfortable around all of them. (Because even Harry isn’t that blind. It’s taking Liam longer than the rest to warm up to them. He thinks maybe they’re the first kind of friends Liam’s had like this. Liam’s already admitted to being something of a homebody. Hence Louis and Harry's quest to loosen him up a little bit.)
But then Zayn says: “No, you and Harry. Seven minutes. Get to it,” in the same exact tone Louis had used on Zayn approximately seven minutes ago.
Harry’s pretty shameless on the whole, but he feels his cheeks heat up anyways. It kind of feels like being called out for something he’s not even a hundred percent sure of yet.
“What?” he chokes out. Maybe he's just taking the piss.
“You heard him, Hazza,” and Harry can’t help but relax a little at the nickname. Until Louis follows it up with, “Let’s get our snog on.”
Niall laughs, the traitor, and shoves him in the closet after Louis. And Harry can’t very well be mad because they literally just did this to Liam and Zayn.
He looks around the closet to avoid looking at Louis, wondering how long his old ski jacket has been hiding in here, and praying there’s not any spiders or snakes hiding in the corners. He’s sure Liam would’ve said something.
Unless, of course, they were too busy to notice creepy crawlies hiding in the corners.
“D’ya think there’s spiders in here?” Harry asks Louis.
“That’s what you’re thinking about?”
Harry shrugs. “Trying not to.” He shouldn’t be able to read Louis’ expression in the dark, but he just knows Louis is giving him one of his trademark amused smirks. Harry has started cataloging all of Louis’ looks without meaning to, and Louis gets a specific fond one Harry’s never seen him give anyone but Harry himself.
Maybe it’s that thought that bolsters him into saying, “Well. You gonna kiss me, or what?”
Louis actually laughs at that. Harry loves when he can surprise Louis with his cheek. It might be his favorite thing ever.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” His accent sounds thicker than usual.
Harry gives the question the thought it deserves. Does he want to kiss Louis? Definitely. Does he want his first kiss with Louis to be in the closet? Meh. Seems like a wasted opportunity, though.
“It’s as good a place as any, I suppose,” he answers out loud.
It’s probably not the answer Louis is looking for.
“Your enthusiasm is astounding, Harold.”
It’s a true testament to how much time Harry has spent studying Louis to know just by his flat, sarcastic tone that he’s hurt.
“I want you to kiss me,” Harry tells him, blunt. There’s no point in lying. He had assumed Louis already knew the truth. Maybe he’s not being as obvious as he thought. Or maybe Louis just wanted to hear him say it out loud. “Just wish we didn’t have to be locked in a closet for you to get up the nerve to do it.”
Louis chokes out a sound, and Harry decides to take that as another win. He’s also tired of waiting for Louis to fucking just kiss him already, so he reaches for Louis and kisses him instead.
It’s a mess from the start. Harry can’t quite see where Louis is in the dark, and he underestimates where Louis’ lips are. It’s flat luck that he ends up kissing Louis’ cheek instead of something embarrassing like his ear or nose, or God forbid, his eye. At least this way it seems intentional.
Louis huffs out an irritated, impatient sound and presses their lips together proper.
It’s still kind of a mess. Harry’s done kissing before, and he’s pretty confident Louis has, too. But it’s new and their teeth click together, their noses brush uncomfortably, and Harry has to tilt his head till they fit together just right. And they do fit together just right.
Louis tastes like tea and too much sugar. Harry’s pretty sure he’ll have to go to the dentist after this and get checked for cavities. If they ever stop. Harry would be fine never stopping. Louis’s pushed him back against the door, pinning him in with his body. Harry hums happily and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist.
It’s not until Louis slides his hands up into Harry’s hair that Harry remembers he can touch, and he immediately goes for Louis’ arse. He’s been wanting to get his hands on it since day one; he’s not even going to pretend otherwise.
Louis grinds up into him in response, and yep, Harry’s so gay. Like, he’s pretty sure he should maybe experiment a little more before he slaps that label on himself, but: cock. That’s what he’s feeling and he is a fan.
Harry kind of wishes there was a lock on the door so they could just keep doing this without any interruption. He also wishes he’d done this earlier, but whatever, no point in regrets; they’re doing it now.
Louis’ lips are soft against his, and he kisses Harry like he’s something precious, not at all like Harry thought he’d kiss. He thought it would be a battle between them, more bite. He’s not gonna lie, he also thought their clothes would be on the floor by now, but despite Louis’ semi hard length against his thigh, the older boy seems content on taking his time.
Probably, Harry reminds himself, because they’re in a fucking closet. Not a closet for fucking, but a closet barely big enough for just this. And their band mates are waiting on the other side.
Forget fucking, Harry’s going to melt if Louis keeps kissing him like this.
Harry is still pushed up against the door, so when their seven minutes are up, and Zayn opens it, Harry promptly falls backwards. Louis, the fucker, catches himself on the door frame before he can topple on top of Harry.
He could be embarrassed, but he just smiles gleefully up at Zayn from where he’s sprawled on the floor.
“Who wants to snog me next?” he teases.