Archive of Our Own

-*-

“You did say The Tea Leaf on Sixth street, didn’t you? I don’t see you anywhere,” Louis says as he looks around. The coffee shop is crowded, but not overly so. It’s the typical crowd one would expect of a coffee shop on a Wednesday morning. Louis would rather be back in bed, but Marcus had asked to meet up for a breakfast date before he had to work, and he couldn’t say no.

The things Louis does for his boyfriend. The word still sends shivers up his spine in the best way. He’d met Marcus at a club about a six months ago, and after a somewhat whirlwind couple of months, they’d made themselves official. Marcus is exactly what Louis had been looking for; tall, attractive, and sweet. At twenty-five, he was ready to settle down into a long-term relationship that could lead to something even better. Marcus had come along at exactly the right time and Louis couldn’t be happier.

Marcus laughs and the sound makes Louis’ belly warm. “I’m sorry, the tube is running late. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Order my usual for me?”

It’s so domestic it would normally make Louis sick, but instead he’s just charmed. They’re the kind of boyfriends who know each other’s coffee order. “Of course, babe. Love you,” he replies, stepping in line.

“You too. Bye.” The line cuts off but Louis thinks nothing of it. Instead, he slips his phone into his pocket and crosses his arms as he waits. Once he gets their drinks (a Yorkshire tea for him, and a iced coffee with two sugars and a splash of milk for Marcus), he starts looking around for a table. He spots a small two-seater in the corner and makes his way over, so focused that he doesn’t notice the man walking ahead of him until they collide.

“Shit!” Louis calls, managing to right himself before he spilled the drinks in his hands. The other man isn’t quite so lucky. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was trying to get the table! I didn’t even see you.”

“So was I,” the man says, but he doesn’t sound angry. Louis isn’t sure how; he’d be furious. “It didn’t spill on me, so we’re okay.” He smiles and Louis has to suck in a breath.

The man is gorgeous. He’s got wild curly hair that tumbles against his broad shoulders, and green eyes that seem to sparkle like he’s some sort of Disney character. He’s tall, tall enough to give Marcus a run for his money, and lean in his skinny jeans and flowy shirt. Are those polka dots? Good lord. If Louis wasn’t already a taken man, he’d be asking this beautiful creature out on the spot.

Louis clears his throat, mostly to bolster his brain cells into doing something besides staring like a creep. “Can I buy you another drink to make up for it? I did spill yours, after all.”

“It’s really not necessary, but if you insist, it’d be rude to say no.” The other man smiles again and Louis thinks it should be registered as a deadly weapon. “Also, I’m only waiting for someone, so maybe we could share the table?”

“Perfect! So, what’s your poison, Curly?” Louis asks as he sets his own drinks down on the table.

The other man slides into the other chair and crosses his long, long legs. Louis is really trying not to stare. “The name is Harry, and I’d like one chai latte, hot, and an iced coffee, two sugars and a splash of milk, please.”

Louis gets a strange niggling feeling at the back of his mind, but brushes it off. That’s a pretty common coffee order. He chalks it up to a strange coincidence. “Um, sure. Easy enough. And I’m Louis, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

Harry smiles again and extends his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Even though you tried to take me out to get a table,” he teases.

“All’s fair in love and table war,” Louis teases back before he heads back to the counter. He quickly retrieves the drinks and heads back, handing them to Harry. He takes them both in his massive hand before setting them on the table. “So, Harry, tell me about yourself. Since we’re going to be sharing a table for a short time, maybe we should get to know each other.”

He watches Harry pick up the chai latte and sip it. That strange feeling is back again but Louis squashes it before it can grow. “Well, I’m twenty-three, I work for a local newspaper as a photographer, and I’m into yoga, designer clothing that I can’t afford, and long walks on the beach.”

Louis snorts. “Do you also like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain?”

“Not in England, I don’t,” Harry says with an indignant huff, but his eyes are shining. He’s cheeky. Louis thinks they could be great friends. “What about you?”

“I’m twenty-five, I teach English and Drama studies at a very prestigious public secondary school not far from here, and I’m into playing video games, dancing badly in clubs after too many drinks, and arguing about DC vs Marvel with my best mate when I’m high.”

He might be expecting a bit of judgment, but instead Harry just laughs and slaps his knee like he thinks Louis is the funniest person he’s ever met. Who even is this guy? “You’d get along swimmingly with my mate Zayn. He does the same when he’s stoned. He gets so mad because I have zero interest in debating with him because I don’t like comic books.”

Louis lets out a dramatic gasp and clutches at his shirt with wide eyes. “You heathen! How dare you? Let me guess, you like reading pretentious hipster shit like Buchowski, don’t you?”

“I’ll never tell,” Harry replies, miming zipping his lips.

“I’m onto you, Harold. You can’t fool me,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes.

“Maybe we should talk about how you even know who Buchowski is, don’t you think?”

Louis groans and takes a sip of his tea before replying, “Let’s not. My boyfriend recently got into reading his stuff and that’s literally all I hear about. He keeps trying to get me to read it too, but I would rather carve my eyes out with a spoon. Last week he even tried slipping on of his books under my pillow!”

A strange look flits across Harry’s face for a split second before he’s laughing right along with him. “That’s really funny, because I’m the one who made my boyfriend read his works.”

The feeling is back, bolder this time. “Yeah, weird. So, how is it working for a newspaper? Is it as exciting as Spiderman makes it seem?” Louis asks, changing the subject.

“Oh god, not at all. My ultimate dream is to like, start my own travel blog and take pictures of things that aren’t Chamber of Commerce ceremonies and footie tryouts.” Harry gets a dreamy look in his eye as he talks about it, and Louis likes that. His passion for his profession is rather refreshing, and Louis can relate.

“I totally get it. Once upon a time, in the folly of youth, I wanted to be an actor. Though, I found out that I’m much better at teaching snot-nosed teenagers how to act than actually doing it myself,” Louis says with a chuckle.

Harry narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me I shouldn’t chase my dreams, Louis?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Louis deadpans. They stare at each other for a full minute before both of them burst out laughing. “No, no. Seriously though. I think it’s really sick that you want to do that. I’d bet you be ace at it.”

“You’ve never even seen my work, how would you know?” Harry jokes, though his smile is soft around the edges.

Louis makes another indignant noise and sticks his nose in the air. “What, do I not look like the type to read a newspaper? Jesus, we’ve been sharing this table for five whole minutes and you’re insulting my character. I thought we were friends.”

Harry reaches over and pats his arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to defame your character like that. I’m sure you read tons of newspapers.” He sounds genuinely upset that Louis seems offended, and isn’t that just the cutest thing. He wants to stick Harry in his pocket and take him home.

“I’m taking the piss, Harold. I literally only pick up a newspaper to use as birdcage lining.”

“You own a bird?” Harry asks, eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

Louis grumbles, “No. My roommate does, though. He won it in a card game or something. Niall is always doing crazy shit like that, so when he brought it home, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. Hare-brained schemes and half-baked ideas are just things you accept when you’re friends with him.”

Harry lets out another seal-bark of a laugh and Louis thinks he should bottle that sound. It should be really obnoxious but instead it just seems to fit with everything he’s seen of Harry so far. “That’s amazing. My friend Liam would die if any of us ever did that. He’s the most sensible person I’ve ever met. Niall would probably drive him to drink.”

The sudden irrational idea of the five of them hanging out hits him like a freight train. Marcus is always saying that he needs to branch out, have more friends and do more things. Harry and his friends seem like a right laugh.

He goes to make that offer, when his phone rings. “Hey! I’m here, where are you?” Marcus asks, voice tinny through the speaker.

“In the corner at a small table. I made a new friend I think you need to meet!” Louis replies. At Harry’s confused look, he covers the phone and says, “My boyfriend is on his way over.” Harry makes like he’s going to stand up but Louis waves him off. “You’re welcome to stay until your friend comes as well, if you’d like. It’s been fun talking to you.”

Harry gives him another one of those breath-taking smiles. “That’s very kind of you. It could be a double-date! My boyfriend should be on his way as well.”

It’s been a really long time since he’s been on a double-date. Plus, Harry seems like a good lad and Louis isn’t quite ready to break just yet. It isn’t often he meets someone he clicks with so easily.

The sound of someone gasping catches his attention and he realizes it’s Harry, who is staring at Marcus with a shell-shocked expression. Marcus looks equally surprised and the color is slowly draining from his face, leaving him sickly-pale.

“You two know each other?” Marcus asks, his voice thin.

Louis cocks his head in confusion, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Um, no? Harry and I just met this morning. I spilled his coffee and bought him some more. We were both waiting for someone so we decided to share the table while we waited…” his voice trails off.

“Marcus?” Harry asks, in lieu of anything else. He’s clutching his latte so hard his hand is shaking. “But…”

“You know Marcus? How do you know Marcus?” Louis demands.

Harry swallows and looks at Louis with dull, wide eyes. “He’s my boyfriend,” he whispers.

Louis tries to laugh, but all that comes out is an ugly sound that crawls its way out of his throat. It hits him like a freight train, then. That niggling feeling from earlier is back with reinforcements and he finally understands. “No, he’s my boyfriend,” he squeaks out. How is this even happening to him? Isn’t shit like this only supposed to happen in movies? People don’t actually try to date two people at once, and then meet up in coffee shops?

Marcus just stands there, looking between the two of them. “Um, I can explain?” he tries.

Rage rolls through Louis, bubbling his veins and making his skin feel way too tight. Not just for him, but also for Harry, who seems just as confused and hurt as he does. He could be faking it, but the way his lip is trembling is hard to ignore. “Oh? What, you can explain how you accidentally double-booked the people you’ve been two-timing? Secretary forgot to change it in your diary?” Louis asks, voice scathing. He’s aware he’s making a scene, that maybe they should take this somewhere else, but he can’t stop himself.

“You’re here early, Harry,” Marcus squeaks out, ignoring Louis’ comment completely.

Really, did he think that was going to make this any better? Apparently not, judging by the way Harry gets to his feet. As long as Louis has been talking to him, he’s been all gentle smiles and twinkling eyes, but now Harry looks imposing. His fists are clenched tight at his sides and his green eyes are almost gray with the storm raging in them. Louis can totally respect that. “I’m so sorry that I inconvenienced you by being polite and excited to see you. I certainly won’t make that mistake again.”

Louis turns to Harry, arms folded. “So, Harry, how long have you been dating Marcus? I’m curious. I feel like we should be comparing notes, you know?”

Harry chuckles, but it’s not a nice sound. “Going on seven months. You?”

“Oh, six for me. Did you also meet him at a club? He bought me drinks after dancing with me, telling me he was single. Funny that!”

“Nope. We actually met at the gym where I do yoga. He blew me after the second week we knew each other, right there in the locker room. I wonder if that was right before he met you or after?”

Marcus is just standing there, wringing his hands as the two of them talk. Most of the coffee shop has tuned in to what’s going on and Louis hopes they’re all judging him. Let the fucker squirm, Louis is vindictive enough to appreciate it. “I, um…”

“Oh no, it’s not your turn yet! You just sit tight while we figure this misunderstanding out,” Louis seethes, voice like ice. “So, Harry, do you think this makes me the other woman, or are you? I’m having trouble deciding.”

“Technically you are, but why split hairs? It’s not everyday you get to be the cheated on and cheated with.”

“Quite right,” Louis agrees, finally turning to look at Marcus. “Now, I know I should probably let you speak your piece, or something, but frankly, I could not give a flying fuck about what you have to say. My final words on the matter are I hope you choke on your disgusting coffee and I never want to see your face again.” With that, Louis uncaps the coffee that had been slowly going warm on the table and douses Marcus in it from head to toe.

Harry gasps beside him before immediately following suit and warmth curls in the bottom of Louis’ stomach. “Likewise, scumbag,” Harry adds before storming out of the shop.

Louis hangs back for just a second before he walks to the counter and drops a wad of notes on the counter. “I'm so sorry for the mess we made, but if you saw the proceedings happening, I hope you understand. This is for your trouble.”

The horrified barista just nods and scoops the money into her apron before she scurries out to clean up the mess. At least Louis assumes she does, because he’s out the door right behind Harry, who is leaned up against the building with the heel of his palm pressed against his eye.

“Hey,” Louis starts, keeping his distance. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t know-”

Harry cuts him off with a wet chuckle. “Please don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did, really.” He chokes back a sob and looks up at the sky. “Feel really stupid right now, though.”

Louis leans next to him, still keeping space between their bodies. “You and me both.” He lets out watery laugh of his own. “I thought shit like this only happened in the movies.” 

“Well, you did say you wanted to be an actor. Maybe this is the universe’s way of making it up to you,” Harry offers.

Louis stares at Harry for just a moment before he breaks down laughing. After a beat, Harry joins in and the two of them are practically falling all over themselves, the only thing keeping the other upright is each other. Their laughter tapers off and both of them are staring at the other, eyes red-rimmed and watery.

“Well, Louis, I want to say that it’s been lovely, but…” Harry says, trailing off. He wipes his eyes on his shirt sleeve and Louis really wants to hug him. Probably not an appropriate feeling to have about someone right after they broke up with the same guy and caused a scene in public.

“No, I get it. Frankly, I’m going to go home and try to pretend today never happened. Hell, I’m going to pretend the last six months didn’t happen.” Except maybe meeting you, he wants to add, but doesn’t.

Harry nods and takes a deep breath, pushing off from the wall. He bites his lip, like he might have something to say, but shakes his head and gives Louis a wave. “See you around, maybe,” is all he says before he heads off.

He watches Harry walk away and he entertains the idea of catching up with him for half a minute, but decides against it. Both his pride and his heart hurt and he’d really like to go lick his wounds in private, and he imagines that Harry probably feels the same way. They both deserve that courtesy.

With a sigh, he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks in the opposite direction. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of the bed this morning.

-*-

Niall is a saint among men. Louis isn’t sure what he would do without Niall in his life. He certainly wouldn’t be so drunk he can’t stand up, but he’s at home and it’s his couch and he doesn’t need to stand up anyway. The couch is comfortable and Louis never wants to leave it.

He’d gotten home and immediately crawled into bed with Niall, who grumbled for half a second before Louis burst into tears. Niall panicked and cuddled him and started asking what was wrong, before the entire story came tumbling out of Louis.

Which prompted the drinking extravaganza that has left Louis without control over his limbs. It’s not even noon, but Louis is pretty much out of fucks to give about it.

“Knew I didn’t like that bastard,” Niall slurs, waving his hand around like he’s brandishing a sword. “If I see him on th’ street, I’m gonna wallop him one. Punch him right in the jaw!”

Louis raises his fist in solidarity. Or at least he thinks he does. He’s pretty sure his brain told his fist to raise itself but everything is so fuzzy it might be his foot instead. Whatever. Niall will understand. “Should have kicked him in the bollocks. Wasted the nice curly man’s money.” The thought of Harry sends a pang through his chest. He hopes his friends Ziam and Layne are with him. Or was it Zen and Lima? He can’t remember. He just hopes he’s not alone. Louis isn’t alone. He has Niall. And whiskey.

He slumps over and starts to pet Niall’s face, wanting to convey this. “You’d never do that to me. You’re my favorite. We’ll just get married and live in platonic bro-love forever. Nouis for life!” he yells out, startling Niall and making them nearly fall off the couch.

To his credit, Niall just nods along. Louis can always count on Niall.

Louis starts to tear up again and buries his face in Niall’s rib cage. It’s not very comfortable but Niall is warm and solid and isn’t going to break his heart like Marcus did. “Why did he do this to me, Nialler? To me and the pretty curly man named Harry who has dimples? How do you break the heart of someone with dimples?”

“Mystery of the universe, mate. Some people are just evil,” Niall says sagely, right before he lets out a burp that shakes the both of them. “Don’t worry, Lou. You’ll find someone else. You know what they say about men and trolley cars, right? Plenty of ‘em in the sea.”

Louis nods along even though that makes absolutely zero sense, even to his incredibly inebriated brain. He doesn’t want a trolley car. He just wants a man who doesn’t suck. Well, he can suck, but not like...existentially. He sighs and curls up closer to Niall, before his eyelids start to feel heavy. Sleep will make everything better.

--

Louis wakes up some odd hours later with a massive headache and dry mouth so bad he’s not sure he wasn’t eating sandpaper. He and Niall are still cuddled on the couch, Niall snoring with his mouth open. He manages to wiggle out from under his roommate and makes his way to the bathroom. After a long contemplation about whether or not he’s going to lose the contents of his stomach, he trundles towards the kitchen to make them both a mug of tea.

The digital clock on the microwave says it’s about four in the afternoon and Louis lets out a sigh. What a useless way to spend a day off, thanks Marcus. Even just thinking about his now ex-boyfriend’s name starts to make anger prickle across his skin. He’s done being sad about it and the same churning rage starts to fill him again. Who does that prick think he is, anyway?

The kettle whistles and breaks him out of his angry downward spiral for just a moment. He makes their tea with a scowl on his face. Maybe Niall was onto something with finding Marcus and punching him in the face. And possibly the dick, while he’s at it.

And Harry, god. He seemed like such a nice bloke too, he certainly didn’t deserve a shitbag ex-boyfriend either. He and Louis had been on their way to what could be a beautiful friendship, which Marcus also managed to ruin. If only there was some way to rub that in his face, that he got neither of them but they got each other…

Louis freezes. The metaphorical light bulb goes off above his head and he gets a truly brilliant idea. It’s probably mad, but Louis is feeling spiteful enough to consider it. He shivers all the way down to his toes with the very possibility of the look on Marcus’ face. Maybe it’s his love of having the last word that spurs him on.

He grabs their tea and hurries back in the living room, retrieving his laptop from where it’s wedged in between the couch cushions. Wracking his brain to try to remember his conversation with Harry, Louis curses when he realizes they didn’t get that far. How the hell is he supposed to find him now? He’s about to throw his laptop in frustration when he remembers Harry saying he worked for a newspaper. It’s not much of a lead, but it’s better than nothing.

For the next hour, Louis frantically researches all the Manchester newspapers that he can think of. He scours article after article and he’s about to give up hope when he spots a picture of one of the local youth football teams pops up. There, right beneath it, is a caption that says Photograph by Harry Styles.

That might be the most fitting name Louis has ever heard in the history of ever. Giddiness floods through his veins and he hops over to his email to stage the next phase of his plan. He gets Harry’s email from his profile on the newspaper’s website and sends him a quick email.

Harry,

I don’t know how appropriate this is, given our situation, but I was wondering if we could meet up again? You seem like a good lad and I have an idea that you just might be interested in. Just let me know what you think, okay? Hope you’re well.

Louis.

He bites the edge of his thumbnail and lets out a deep breath. Now, he waits.

-*-

The response from Harry doesn’t come until the next day. Louis can’t really blame him, but he has been going mad with the anticipation of what his response might be. It was so bad that Niall asked if he was on something the night before. He had just laughed him off, not ready to tell him about The Plan in case Harry said no.

Louis,

I was surprised to see your email, but sure. I wouldn’t mind meeting up again. Maybe not The Tea Leaf though? I think that place is pretty much ruined for me, if I’m honest. Just send me a time and place, okay?

All the love,

H

Harry was so weird, but Louis couldn’t help the fondness he felt toward the other lad. It was hard not to, if he was honest. He replies to Harry and offers an alternative cafe about ten minutes away from the school where he teaches so they could meet up for lunch. He figures Monday would be safe enough, given them both enough time and space to deal with the whole Marcus Incident, as he’d come to call it. He’s pleased when Harry sends his reply, saying that it sounds perfect and he’ll see him then.

Now, it’s time for him to start actually formulating his plan. The more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets for it. It must show, because Niall keeps pestering him about why he seems so chipper after that morning’s disaster, but Louis fights him off with FIFA and lo mein.

The rest of the weekend passes by uneventfully. Louis loses himself in lesson plans and marking papers on Sunday, trying his best to keep his mind off Marcus. And Harry, if he’s honest with himself. Louis isn’t ashamed to admit that he can be petty at the best of times, gets prickly and mean when something hurts him. Harry might not feel the same way and then Louis will be stuck looking like an arsehole who can’t deal with his feelings properly.

He sighs. It won’t do him any favors to dwell on something that hasn’t even happened yet. Instead, he goes back to reading essays about the interpretation of Ibsen’s A Doll’s House . Those are always good for a laugh.

--

The nervous energy stays with him throughout Sunday evening and through his morning block of classes. His students look at him like he’s finally gone round the bend but he can’t stop it. He’s flitting across the classroom like he’s possessed and finally he just assigns them readings from their textbooks. His eyes must be pulsing with his manic energy because for once they just sit down and do what he says instead of trying to goad him into improv activities.

Finally, after what feels like fifteen years, he’s finally on his break. Louis tears out of the school building like his arse is on fire.

The cafe is busy but Shannon, his usual waitress, catches his eye from across the small area and motions for him to sit down. “Hey, Lou! Good to see you. Meeting the sweetie today?” she asks with a wink.

His gut clenches and Louis forces himself to smile. “Uh, no. Not today. Just meeting a friend for lunch,” he answers. Though he’s going to find it hard to eat around the massive lump in his throat.

She nods, seeming not to notice the way he’s grimacing at her. “How lovely. Prawn sandwich, crisps, and Yorkshire?” He nods, and she writes it down in her little notebook. “And for your friend?”

“I’ll let him order for himself, love. He should be here any moment.” At that, she flounces off towards the kitchen. Louis’ left with his own thoughts and soon he’s fidgeting in his chair. He checks his phone for the time and starts to tap his foot against the floor. Did Harry forget? Did he change his mind? Maybe he thought Louis wasn’t worth his time and is going to stand him up?

Before his thoughts can spiral too much more, Harry comes hurrying through the door, head whipping around. Louis waves, and he visibly relaxes when he spots Louis. Even looking flustered, Harry’s just as good-looking as Louis remembers. He’s got another flowy shirt on, this time one with flamingos patterned across it, and his curly hair is tied up in a bun. Springy little curls frizz out from his temples but it just makes him look adorable. Louis smiles before he can stop himself.

“I’m so sorry! I was on assignment and the shoot ran late and then I nearly missed my train and I realized I didn’t have your mobile to text you and-”

Louis cut off Harry’s rant with another wave of his hand. “As cute as it is to watch you fluster yourself, it’s fine. I didn’t order you anything, though.” Harry drops into the seat across from him and starts pulling off his bags. “Are you even hungry?”

“Starved, actually. This cafe is cute, I like it,” Harry says, glancing around.

“It’s great. I come here so much I should probably buy stock in it,” Louis jokes. “It’s close to work and it’s pretty cheap. I think Shannon would hunt me down if I stopped coming.” He pointedly doesn’t mention that he and Marcus used to come here twice a week and Shannon spent more time cooing over the two of them than doing her job. His stomach roils a little, but it reminds him why he’s here with Harry in the first place.

Just as he goes to open his mouth, Shannon reappears, notebook in hand. “Goodness, Lou! Who is this cutie pie?” she dotes and for a second, he’s afraid she’s going to pinch Harry’s cheek. “You’re adorable.”

Harry’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m Harry, it’s lovely to meet you.” He holds out his hand for her to shake.

“Oh and manners! I like this one, Louis. He should come ‘round more.” Harry’s cheeks redden even more. “Anyway, have you decided what you want to eat, pet?”

He quickly orders the soup of the day and a side salad, before Shannon scurries off to fill their order. Once the two of them are alone, Harry says, “So. I was a bit surprised to hear from you after...well, everything.” He takes a shuddering breath, like he needs to ground himself before he continues. Louis knows the feeling. “Can’t say I’m disappointed, though.”

Louis’ insides go a little soupy at that.“You’re a whole other level of charming, aren’t you?” he teases, getting a dimpled smile in return.“Well, one, I wasn’t really happy about the way we parted, and two...I might have a proposition for you.”

Harry leans close, chin in hand. “I’m listening.”

Taking a deep breath, Louis folds his hands on the table. “I might have gotten extremely pissed Saturday afternoon, after I got home. When I sobered up, I was just... angry. For both of us. You seem like a good lad and you didn’t deserve what happened any more than I did. So, I got a bit of an idea in my head and wanted to run it by you.”

“Okay…” Harry prompts, motioning for Louis to continue.

“I want to get back at Marcus for humiliating us both,” Louis states bluntly. There’s no real use in denying that’s exactly what this plan is. Before Harry can protest, he barrels on, “You and I got on really well, and what better way to get back at him by exploiting that?”

Harry’s face darkens a little bit and Louis’ stomach drops. “What do you mean by exploiting? I think I’ve been exploited enough, don’t you?”

Louis realizes his mistake and smacks his forehead. “Sorry, that sounded really shitty. Poor choice of words on my part. What I mean is, he clearly never intended for either of us to find out about the other. We did, though, and actually seemed to like each other. I mean, in any other circumstance, I’d have immediately asked you about hanging out. Planned on it, actually, before The Incident.”

Harry seems to calm down a little at that. Their food arrives and it gives them both a moment to regroup. Once Shannon disappears, he takes a sip of his water. “The Incident. I like that. Anyway, you were saying?” he prompts again.

“So, what better way to get back at him by hanging out more? Specifically…” he trails off, clearing his throat. This is it. “Specifically, by dating each other.”

Harry starts so hard he drops his spoon against the table with a clatter. “What?”

“I mean that we fake date. Show up places we know he’ll be and like, spread rumors through the grapevine and pretend we’re together. Can you imagine? He cheated on us with each other and now we’re together! He’d feel like an idiot who let two catches get away from him.” Louis explains between bites of his sandwich.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Lou,” Harry says, poking at his salad. He hasn’t looked up to meet Louis’ gaze and he’s frowning a little. It would probably be cute if Louis’ heart wasn’t hammering against his ribcage. “What would our friends think?”

“Well, I know Niall would be on board. He lives for this kind of thing.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth tips up. Louis considers it a victory. “Your roommate, right? He makes it a habit of participating in made-up relationships?” he asks dryly.

Louis rolls his eyes. “He might. I just know he’s always down for a good prank.” He looks down at his sandwich, swallowing a bit. “And he was… really upset on Saturday. For me. Well, for us, really.” He takes another moment to gather his thoughts and this time, he looks up to meet Harry’s gaze. “It might be petty of me, but I want to get back at Marcus. And if I get a new friend out of it, even better. We don’t have to do anything crazy, just hang out and occasionally hold hands and look coupley.”

Harry’s smile widens a bit more. “And I don’t have to hide it from Zayn and Liam?” At Louis’ head shake, he continues, “They were pretty angry as well. I had to bribe Liam not to leave and go find Marcus to bust him up, if I’m honest.”

“Sounds like a good lad.”

“He is. But I don’t know. Faking a relationship to get back at someone just seems a bit mean.”

Irritation floods through Louis before he can stop it. He knows it’s not Harry’s fault and Harry’s probably right, but his wounded pride tells him otherwise. “As mean as cheating on two people and then trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal?” Louis hisses, his own bitter tone ringing in his ears. “Has he called you, Harry? Did he apologize and try to explain? He sure hasn’t for me.”

Silence falls between them and Louis feels like he might choke on it. His eyes burn and the half sandwich he’s finished off sits heavy in his stomach.

“You have a point,” Harry says weakly, after what felt like a million years.

“Look, our friends would know. They could even help us out with it. And it isn’t forever. After a little while, we just “break up” and then just be friends like we originally planned to be. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy.” Hope flares in Louis’ chest. Maybe his scheme wasn’t so hare-brained after all. Plus, time he gets to spend with Harry is time well-spent. He can tell that already. “We both get back at our scumbag boyfriend and we don’t have to worry about rebounds.”

“Because we’ll be each others’ rebound?”

“Exactly!”

“Can you give me some time to think about it?” Harry asks.

That’s fair. Louis can’t begrudge him that. “Of course. I’m not trying to pressure you or anything. We can still be friends, even if we don’t fake date to make our ex feel like shit.”

Harry smiles, and for a moment he looks so lovely that Louis can almost -almost- understand why Marcus had to have both of them at once. “Thanks, Lou.”

Marcus used to call him Lou, too, but it sounds so much nicer when Harry says it.

They finish their lunch without mentioning The Plan again. Instead, the two of them chat pleasantly about how their days have gone and other bits of small talk. Louis usually hates small talk, but he and Harry get on so well he doesn’t seem to mind it. At the end of it, they exchange mobile numbers and an agreement to get together next week. All in all, Louis feels pretty good. He’s pretty confident about how their lunch went and he’s almost positive he’s going to be hearing from Harry sooner rather than later.

Sure enough, about three hours after they had parted ways, Louis’ mobile buzzes with a text from Harry. Talked to Z and L. We’re in. He forgets he’s in a crowded train car when he laughs maniacally. He’s mad with power, so sue him. Now, he’s just got to come up some good ideas to implement their plan.

His brain is whirring the entire walk back to he and Niall’s flat. He bursts through the door and announces, “Niall! You better be home, I need your help!”

“Is this about whatever had you all cagey this weekend?” Niall calls from the kitchen. He’s standing in his boxers and eating what looks like leftover mac and cheese straight from a Tupperware. “I knew you’d crack eventually.”

Louis waves him off. “Remember how you said you wanted to punch Marcus in the teeth?” At Niall’s nod, he continues, “Well, I’ve got an even better idea.”

Niall, bless him, grins and sets down his bowl so he can rub his hands together. “I’m all ears, mate.”

Louis’ mouth tugs into a grin. “So, here’s what we’re going to do…”

 -*-

After a couple of meetings (that usually devolved into pizza and beer and FIFA), the five of them come up with a game plan. Louis had been nervous about the other three coming over; what if Niall hated Harry? What if Harry’s friends hated him? What if by the end of the night they all hated each other?

He didn’t need to worry. The five of them fit together pretty seamlessly, once the first initial awkwardness was out of the way. It’s not every day that one hangs around with the guy that your best friend’s ex cheated on them with. Of course it had been Niall who had broken up the weirdness, loudly exclaiming, “Okay, this is only weird if we make it weird. Who’s up for Xbox?” The rest was history.

Liam was just as buttoned up as Harry had described him, but had a wicked sense of humor that caught Louis off guard in the best way. He and Zayn had bonded over picking on Liam, and Niall and Harry had spent two hours debating about the best way to make spaghetti sauce from scratch. Louis chalked it up to a tally in the success column.

Zayn had been the one who had planted the seed for the first stage of The Plan. “Why don’t you start by meeting up somewhere you know he’d be? Like, at the gym or something?”

Which is where Louis is currently standing outside, debating whether to go in or not. He’s nervous, though he tries to tell himself it’s because he’s allergic to exercise, and not because he will have to see his douchebag ex-boyfriend again. It still stings, the idea that he wasn’t good enough, that Marcus had to date someone else at the same time.

It’s not on you, though. It’s on him, a small voice reminds him in the back of his head. It sounds suspiciously like Harry.

He takes a deep breath to center himself, clutching the paper bag in his hand a little harder. Bringing someone lunch was sweet, right?

Before he can chicken out, he pushes through the doors and steps inside the building. It’s not as bad as he was expecting. The lobby is open, with potted plants scattered throughout the space. A pretty brunette sits behind the reception desk and Louis pads over towards it. “Excuse me? I’m looking for the yoga room?”

The girl raises an eyebrow. “If you’re here for class, you’re late by about forty-five minutes,” she says with a click of her tongue. She glances down at his ripped skinny jeans and black t-shirt. “Also not properly dressed.”

“Do I look like I’m here for yoga?” he fires back. Honestly. “I’m looking for Harry. He told me to find him in the yoga room. I figured you could help me, considering you’re at the information desk.”

She sniffs, ignoring his prickly response. “Down that hall and to your right. He should be finishing up about now.”

Louis ducks his head and starts heading the way she told him to go. There are rooms on either side with floor to ceiling glass walls that hide absolutely nothing. One room is a weight room, and a familiar face catches his attention. Marcus is lifting weights, laughing with some guy whose neck seems to disappear into his shoulders. Not cute at all. A hot stab of anger lances through his belly, spurring him to keep walking. Arsehole.

He glances up when he reaches his destination and his mouth hits the floor. Harry is positioned at the front of the room in the tiniest pair of yellow shorts imaginable, his shirtless torso glistening with sweat. He’s also twisted into a position that human bodies shouldn’t be able to twist into. No wonder half the class seems to be more interested in ogling him than actually attempting the yoga position he’s explaining.

“This is how pornos start,” Louis mutters under his breath. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of seeing an attractive man bent like a pretzel.

Just in time, as the class seems to wrapping up. The students file out and walk past Louis, giving him curious looks as he waits for Harry. He pays them no mind, grinning even wider when Harry steps out. He’s wearing a vest now, along with a pair of tight black pants that are almost as bad as the yellow shorts. “Hey Lou,” he says, wiping off with a towel.

“Didn’t realize you were a yoga instructor. What happened to photographer?” Louis teases as they head back down the hall.

Harry shrugs and flips the towel over his shoulder. “This is just for fun. I actually volunteer to do it. It’s fun and then I don’t have to pay gym membership.”

Louis cackles. “The truth comes out! You sly dog.” He nudges Harry with his elbow, making him huff out a laugh. “I brought you lunch, since you told me to meet you here. Figured it would really help sell the “smitten kitten” routine.”

Harry immediately digs through the bag and lights up when he sees its contents. “Oooh, you remembered! What a charmer.” He leans close and whispers, “You know, Marcus could never remember anything I liked to eat when he’d bring me food.” His eyes dull a bit when he pulls back and Louis hates that he understands why.

“That’s because he’s a self-absorbed asshat. I saw him in the weight room on the way in,” Louis says with a sneer. “All the more reason for us to embarrass him, right?”

Harry nods, pinching his lip between his fingers. “How are we going to get him to notice us, though?” he asks.

“Like this,” Louis says, grabbing Harry’s hand as they walk past the weight room. Harry jolts for a second, but doesn’t let go. Good. “Oh, babe, it’s no problem! I told you I wanted to come see you anyway. I bet you really worked up an appetite,” he says loudly, pitching his voice up a notch. It’s the way his voice always gets when he feels flirty.

Harry looks confused but just like Louis had anticipated, he hears a, “Louis?” from behind them. Sure enough, Marcus is standing in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed as he looks between them. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here? I’m bringing Harry lunch,” he says coolly.

The look on Marcus’ face is priceless. “I thought you didn’t know each other…”

Louis laughs, the sound sharp in this throat. “Oh we didn’t. Not until recently. Right?” He blinks up at Harry, giving him a sweet smile.

“Right. Lou asked if we could meet up, so I thought I’d invite him. He’s so sweet, he surprised me with my favorites,” Harry adds, holding up the bag.

Marcus’ eyes zero in on where their hands are clasped between them, his eyebrows drawing together. Louis couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. “You never wanted me to bring you lunch here,” he says, not looking at either of them.

“You never asked. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to go eat.” Harry tugs Louis along back towards the lobby, and Louis can feel the way Marcus’ eyes don’t leave them for a second.

It’s that vindictive little thrill that makes him ask, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? I could join you…”

He doesn’t miss the way Harry tenses up for just a second, flicking his eyes over their shoulders. “Lunch will get cold, are you sure?” he replies. His voice is huskier than Louis is used to and he can’t stop the way he shivers at the sound. Holy fuck. He wasn’t expecting bedroom voice.

Two can play at that game. He pushes up against Harry and pushes his fingers up the hem of Harry’s vest. “Oh I’m sure. Lead the way.”

As if on cue, Harry hurries them towards a door set off to the side, which Louis assumes is the locker room. He yanks Louis inside and as soon as the door slams behind them, Harry drops his hand and laughs so hard he bends in half. “Oh my god! Did you see his face?” he cackles, clutching at his sides.

“I told you it would work. Marcus is a proud fuck, and I’m sure he’s burning up at the thought of us in here together. Especially when you pulled out that bedroom voice, what the fuck was that?”

Harry wipes his eyes and lets his laughter trail off into light chuckles. “He knows that voice, so I figured why not,” he says with a shrug. “I hate to admit it, but you were right. This was a brilliant idea.”

Louis can’t help but feel smug. “Oi! Maybe you won’t doubt me again, young Harold.” He glances around and wrinkles his nose. “Though, I might not have thought this through enough. I hope you don’t mind eating in a smelly locker room.”

“It’s not that smelly, stop being dramatic,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes. “I really should shower though. Then I’ll eat the lunch you brought for me.”

“I’ll just sit here and entertain myself, then.” Louis pulls out his phone and sits down on the chair near the door. Why a locker room needs a cushioned chair in it, he’ll never understand. As he’s flicking through his Twitter feed, a thought strikes him. “Hey...did you mean what you said? That he never brought you lunch?”

At first, he’s not sure Harry’s going to answer. It’s still pretty raw for the both of them, even if Louis tries to tell himself otherwise. An apology is on the tip of his tongue when Harry finally says, “No. Not really. We always met up after, if there was time. He never went out of his way to bring me lunch though, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Louis has to curb the urge to get up and hug Harry. It was a simple thing, something Louis always did for Marcus when he had to work late or if Louis didn’t have classes to teach. He’s not really surprised, though, because Marcus never did it for him, either, if he really thinks about it.

There are a million and one things he could say and just as many he shouldn’t, but Harry cuts the conversation short by turning on the shower. Louis gives him his space, and by the time Harry is finished, the tension seems to equalize between the two of them.

Louis gets to his feet. “All nice and squeaky clean?” he jokes, before he zeroes in on Harry’s collarbones. He gets an absolutely brilliant idea. “Don’t twig on me, but I’m going to give you a lovebite.” He doesn’t give Harry a chance to respond before he’s attaching his mouth to Harry’s neck. He bites and sucks hard at the skin, before pulling back to inspect his work. The bite is a pretty shade of red that looks amazing against the pale of Harry’s skin.

“What did you do that for?” Harry asks, voice breathy. His eyes are a little glassy and his cheeks are red. Perfect.

“Take a look in the mirror,” is all Louis says, steering them towards the vanity off to the side. “You look proper fucked out now. And the mark is an added bonus.”

“What about you?”

“What, do you want to give me one too?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one with his tits out, I figured it would be more visible.”

Harry smacks him in the arm. “I meant the fucked out bit, arsehole.”

Louis goes to reply, but before he can, Harry has him crowded up against the wall. The way he’s caging him in makes Louis’ breath quicken and he can feel heat blooming on his face. He can’t help it that he likes being manhandled a little bit, picked up and tossed around like he weighs nothing. He has to give Harry props for figuring it out, even if by accident.

“There you go. Now you look just as wrecked as I do,” Harry murmurs, using that goddamn bedroom voice again. It sends shivers up Louis’ spine and he can feel his belly tightening just a little.

Harry steps back and Louis slumps against the brick. “Warn a guy next time,” he snips, trying to get a hold of himself. It’s just that Harry caught him off guard, that’s all.

Harry doesn’t respond, instead grabbing his hand and leading him out with the brown bag in the other. Marcus isn’t anywhere to be seen, but Louis doesn’t miss the way that the other gym patrons are whispering and looking at the two of them. Good, he thinks. That’s what they need, to have other people see them and talk about it. He’s positively chuffed that this is working out so beautifully. Harry seems to think so as well, judging by the way he’s smiling and chattering at Louis about his next assignment.

Phase one is a rousing success.

 -*- 

Phase two comes about a week later by accident. Louis is rifling around in his closet, looking for his favorite jumper, when he comes across Marcus’ jacket. And two of his t-shirts. And a pair of his boxers. Why they’re in his closet, he’s not sure. It wasn’t like Marcus had stayed over often. Seeing the clothing sends Louis into a bit of a rage. He tears through his flat like a hurricane, scooping up anything that might belong to Marcus and dumps into it a box. He’s tempted to throw it out the window into the front garden when it strikes him.

He sets it down next to his couch and pulls out his mobile. Are you busy?

His mobile dings about five minutes later. Not really. Why?

Louis grins and taps out a message before slipping it back into his pocket. Come over. I have a brilliant idea.

It takes a bit but eventually there’s a knock on his door. He opens it to Harry standing on his doorstep, holding what looks like half a grocery store in his arms. “Did you buy out the shop down the road?” he teases as he closes the door behind them. Harry doesn’t answer as he toddles to the kitchen to drop the bags on the counter.

“Thought since I was coming over, I could cook dinner? I invited the lads over later, we could make a night of it,” Harry explains as he starts putting things away.

Fondness flares up in Louis’ chest at the way Harry maneuvers through his kitchen. He looks so at home here. “Sounds perfect. Just be careful. Niall will twig if you mess anything up.” He gets a predictable eye roll in response but it just makes his smile widen. “What’s on the menu, Chef?”

Harry bumps the fridge closed with his hip. “I was thinking homemade pizza? Proper lad night food, and maybe if I cook it, you lot won’t order that shit delivery stuff.” Louis makes an affronted noise but Harry seems not to notice. “So, what’s this brilliant idea you had?”

Louis licks his lips. “I found a bunch of Marcus’ shit when I was looking for my jumper, so I thought… why not invite you over, and then call him to come pick it up? Could you imagine seeing his face?” The very idea is enough to make Louis’ insides warm. “What do you think?”

“Perfect! Want to do it now, before Niall gets off work and the lads get here?”

“Great idea.” Louis pulls out his mobile and taps on Marcus’ contact information. He’s not sure why he hasn’t deleted it already like he did with all the texts and pictures. He definitely will after this, he tells himself.

“Hello?”

Confusion. Perfect, Louis thinks. “I found a bunch of your shit at my flat. Come get it before it ends up on the kerb with the rest of the rubbish,” Louis says, picking at his nails.

An exasperated sigh echoes through the line. “Jesus, Louis. I know you’re angry, but do you need to be such a bitch about it? You’re being overdramatic.”

That was not the thing to say. “Overdramatic?” Louis asks icily. Anger races through his veins like lava and his entire body shakes with it. “I’ll show you overdramatic, you fucking prick. Wait until your shit is dumped out on my front garden and your disgusting fuckboy underpants are hanging out my window. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” He hangs up without a response and fights the urge to chuck his mobile across the room.

“Lou?” Harry’s soft voice echoes.

“The absolute nerve of him. How dare he,” Louis spits. The word prickles the back of his throat and he feels like he swallowed glass. That’s the same word the boys in secondary school used to use to describe him when they were busy bullying him. He had told Marcus once about it, how it made him feel belittled. “Call me overdramatic? I should just set fire to all his stupid t-shirts and be done with it.”

Warm arms wrap around him from behind and Louis jumps, until he hears Harry croon in his ear, “It’s okay Louis. He’s an arsehole. You’re entitled to be angry with him.”

It’s surprisingly soothing. His anger ebbs as Harry continues to murmur nonsense at him, their bodies swaying a bit. Who knew Harry was hiding restorative powers in those curls of his? “Thank you,” Louis says after a moment. Now he just feels empty, like his anger had burned itself out and left nothing but ashes behind.

“You’re welcome. Fancy a cuddle?” Harry asks, tugging him towards the couch. “I know we barely know each other, but...I’ve been told I’m pretty good at the cuddling thing.”

That brings a smile to Louis’ face. “Sure, you big softie.” They huddle together against the armrest, Harry practically smushing his face into his chest. It feels like it should be awkward. It should be weird to be breathing in the scent of Harry’s cologne, wrapped up in Harry’s arms. But Louis would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to be held like this, the warmth of Harry’s body bleeding into him and filling the spaces in his chest. “You know, you are surprisingly good at this, considering those noodle limbs of yours.”

“Hey,” Harry drawls, poking Louis in the side and making him squirm. “You leave me and my noodle limbs alone or there will be no more cuddles for you, mister.”

“A tragedy, truly,” Louis drawls back. He kind of means it, though. Harry is a pretty amazing cuddler, even if he’d never tell him that. “I forgot how much breakups suck. Especially when you break up with an arsehole.”

Harry hums, but doesn’t say anything. There’s not really anything to say. Harry’s in the same boat as he is, dealing with the same shit feelings he is. It’s almost...nice, having someone to go through this with that understands.

The two of them stay quiet, the silence surprisingly warm as they lay there together. It’s not what Louis is used to, but he finds he rather likes it.

But of course, it couldn’t last forever. The doorbell rings and Louis sighs, sitting up. He’s sort of regretting calling Marcus in the first place. “Time to face the music,” he says with a humorless chuckle. Until Harry swats him on the bum, grinning all the while. “Did you just-” he squeaks out.

Harry schools his features into a mask of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go answer the door.” He folds his arms behind his head and looks up at Louis serenely.

“You’re not the boss of me!” Louis yells. Door momentarily forgotten, he jumps back on top of Harry, digging his fingers into his sides. Harry throws his head back and laughs like the sound is being pulled from deep in his belly. It’s so ridiculous. “Say mercy!” He pinches at Harry’s doughy hips and just makes him laugh harder until they’re both breathless with it.

“You’re a menace,” Harry gasps out.

“Say mercy!” Louis repeats, dragging his fingers up and down Harry’s sides.

Harry doesn’t seem like he’s going to last much longer. He’s squirming so much Louis is actually afraid they might tumble off the couch. “Mercy, mercy, mercy!” Harry finally chants, tears streaming down his cheeks. They’re bright red and his dimple is out in full force. “Good grief, you don’t give up, do you?”

Louis puts his hands on his hips in triumph. “Lots of practice. Six younger siblings will do that to you.”

The doorbell rings again, more insistent this time. Now, though, Louis feels like he’s actually ready to face it. He opens the door, not at all surprised to see Marcus standing there. He’s frowning and his arms are crossed. “Took you long enough. Where’s my stuff?”

Louis has to fight off the urge to roll his eyes. “Over here. Let me get the box,” he says, going to close the door but Harry appears behind him with the box in his hands. He’s still flushed and his curls are in disarray from rolling around on the couch. Louis probably doesn’t look much better. He couldn’t have planned that more perfectly if he tried.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” Marcus asks, voice hard. He barely flinches when Louis shoves the box at him.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, actually,” Harry says with a sniff. He kisses Louis’ temple and adds, “I’m going to go finish the pizzas. Let me know if you need me.”

Louis bites back his grin. Harry’s so good at this, he can’t even believe it. The way Marcus is fuming just makes it even better. Louis never claimed he wasn’t petty. “I think that’s everything. If I find anything else, I’ll-”

“You two are awfully chummy,” Marcus cuts him off.

“I think Harry said it best. It’s not really any of your business.” Louis narrows his eyes and another lick of hot anger courses through him. He’s not really sure why he’s getting so upset, this is what he and Harry wanted. Maybe it’s the way Marcus said it. “You made sure that it wasn’t any of your business when you decided to cheat on me. On us,” he bites out. The sheer audacity of it is mind-boggling. “I think we’re done here.” Before Marcus can respond, Louis slams the door in his face and stomps towards the kitchen. Harry’s mixing something in a bowl, but doesn’t seem fazed when Louis presses his face between his shoulder blades. The urge to punch something is back again. Good feeling gone.

Harry gives him a moment before shifts, dislodging Louis. “Here,” is all he says, dumping the contents of the bowl onto the counter in front of Louis.

“What is this?”

“It’s pizza dough. You’re angry and I know you don’t want to be. Knead the dough. It’ll make you feel better,” Harry explains, picking up another bowl. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. Trust me on this. I take my frustrations out on bread dough all the time.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told. “Baking, yoga, photography...is there anything you don’t do?”

“Ballroom dancing,” Harry replies thoughtfully. The crook of his mouth gives him away, though.

Louis doesn’t reply; he switches on his Bluetooth speaker and turns his favorite Pandora station on. They work in silence to the sounds of Etta James crooning about how life is like a song. It’s relaxing, more than Louis thinks it would be. Maybe Harry’s onto something with the dough therapy.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a jazz fan, honestly,” Harry admits after the song finishes. BB King picks up and Louis takes a beat before he responds.

“Well, I’m full of surprises.”

Harry looks at him, cocking his head to the side. Finally, he says, “Yes, you are. But I like it.”

Louis pretends that the comment doesn’t make him flush a little bit, focusing back on the dough he’s kneading. If his stomach flips a little at Harry’s words, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

-*-

Things continue the same way. Louis and Harry continue to hang out, playing up their “relationship” any time they happen to be around Marcus. The two of them text constantly, so much that Niall jokes that Louis’ mobile is going to burst into flames. Louis can’t help it; he’s gotten used to Harry’s dry wit and silly puns. They’ve become fast friends, so much that Louis would easily count him as one of his best friends, if he’s honest.

“Do I have to worry about being replaced?” Niall teases, after Louis laughs out loud at some stupid meme Harry sent him while he was at work.

Louis rolls his eyes and throws a cushion at him. “Never, you know that.” He bites his lip and fights off the fondness building in his chest. “It’s just… it’s really easy with him, yeah? He gets what I’m going through and he’s a good lad. He’s the only good thing that’s come out of this whole mess with Marcus.”

Niall’s face goes soft and he nudges Louis with his foot. “You’re such a marshmallow. Who would ever believe that you put blue hair dye in Liam’s shampoo bottle?”

“That was Zayn’s idea, thank you very much. Besides, we should have picked a better color. The blue didn’t show up. It’s why it took him nearly two weeks to figure it out.”

“Liam is also occasionally as dense as a rock,” Niall adds fondly. It’s become a bit of a running joke between them all. If anybody else said it, though, they’d be eating their own teeth. “Speaking of Liam, he invited us to a party this weekend. It’s for one of their friends...who knows Marcus.” He says it cautiously, like he’s waiting for Louis to explode in indignant rage.

Two weeks ago, he might have. Now...it doesn’t really bother him, strangely enough. “Okay? Sounds like it could be a good time. How come Harry didn’t say anything?”

“Probably because he’s too busy texting you stupid cat memes to answer the rest of his messages. Liam only just texted me an hour ago.”

Sure enough, there’s one in Louis’ inbox from Liam as well. Huh. “Well, I say we go. Plus, it’ll give us the perfect opportunity to mess with Marcus again. His sour face fuels my soul.”

Niall’s face does this funny thing before it settles into a sort of nervous smile. “Lou...don’t you think you guys have taken this a bit far? I think you and Harry have gotten him back enough.”

Louis’ stomach does a funny little flip, like he’s about to downhill on a rollercoaster. “This could be our piece de resistance! Our final curtain call. Besides, knowing Marcus, he’d get some wicked sense of enjoyment out of it if we ‘broke up’ now. Probably make some nasty comment about rebounds or something.” That’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. Personally, Louis doesn’t think he’s suffered enough.

“Whatever you say, Louis,” Niall replies, shaking his head. “Liam isn’t the only one that’s as dense as a rock,” he mutters under his breath.

Louis pretends he didn’t hear him.

--

Louis decides the best course of action is to wear the same outfit he wore when he first met Marcus to this party. He can imagine the look on his face and it makes him smirk to himself. He wears a thin white shirt that shows off his collarbones, covered in a black blazer, with his tightest skinny jeans. He rolls them up at the ankles and wears his favorite black vans. The perfect mix of casual and sexy.

He offered to pick Harry up and meet the others at the party, to make an entrance. He pulls up outside Harry’s flat and checks his phone, realizing he’s about five minutes early. He checks his messages and flicks through his Instagram, until a knock on his window startles him. He glances up and his jaw drops.

Harry looks fucking amazing. His curls are shiny and tumbling around his face, and he’s wearing a gauzy white shirt that’s unbuttoned to the top of his butterfly tattoo. He’s grinning and it takes Louis much longer than he wants to admit to get his wits about him. “Can I help you?” he asks after he rolls down the window.

“I’m looking for a ride. Can you help me out?” Harry replies, smushing his lips into a ridiculous pout that has Louis laughing.

Louis pretends to think about it, finally letting out a put upon sigh. “You’re cute, I guess I can. Get those Bambi legs in here.”

Harry crosses in front of the car and climbs in, and Louis has to look away from the way that his black jeans stretch across his thick thighs and the curve of his little bum. Jesus. “Looking to pull, Styles?” he teases, trying to get a handle on himself. It’s not his fault that Harry looks like sex on legs.

“Just you, sweetheart,” Harry replies with a wink. He leans over and gives Louis a quick peck on the cheek. The platonic kisses and cuddling are a recent development between the two of them. Louis won’t admit to the way it makes his stomach wobble. Fuck this, he’s got to get some alcohol in his system as soon as possible. “Looks like I’m not the only one. You look like you just stepped off a runway.”

“Too short for that.” He turns out onto the road and starts off towards their destination. “Want to know a secret?” At Harry’s nod, he stage-whispers, “This is the outfit I was wearing when I met Marcus. Figured it would be a good blow to his pride if he saw me in it with you.”

An odd look flits across Harry’s face. As quick as it came, it’s gone again, replaced by a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Weird. “Well, you certainly look good. I’ll be proud to be seen with you.”

The words feel a bit off and Louis doesn’t know what to say. He just nods and gives Harry a shaky smile of his own. He changes the topic to something a bit more neutral, like the movie they were planning on going see that weekend. The small talk feels forced and awkward, and Louis can’t help but think it’s his fault. Thankfully, they arrive at the house where the party is being held. It’s a big, beautiful house with a sprawling driveway that’s already full of cars. This is exactly the kind of place that one of Marcus’ friends would own.

Suddenly, Louis doesn’t really want to be here.

Still, he pastes on a smile and turns to Harry. “Ready to go get our groove on? At least we know they’ll have the good booze,” he tries to joke, but it falls a little flat.

“I’ve been here before. They usually have pretty good booze,” Harry says, thankfully not letting him flounder. This is why they’re the dream team. “I introduced Marcus to the couple who lives here. Jeff works with me at the paper.”

Louis isn’t sure why he needed to know that, but he nods along anyway. “I’m guessing that’s how Liam knows him too?” he asks as they get out of the car. He tries to park so they won’t be blocked in because who hosts a house party without adequate parking? He and Niall did a better job in uni.

“Yeah. Jeff is the editor-in-chief. He’s the one who decided to move Liam from current events to sports.”

“Probably a good thing,” he says half-heartedly. As they walk closer to the house, the music and the sounds of people get louder. It sounds like the party is already in full swing; Louis is almost afraid they’re late. The door swings open and a pretty brunette motions them inside.

“Hey, Harry! You’re right on time!” she exclaims, kissing him on the cheek. Her eyes flit over to Louis and she looks him up and down. “And who’s this?”

Louis wasn’t expecting the third degree. “This is Louis,” is all Harry says. It’s a bit of a non-answer, and to his surprise, it rankles him a little bit. “Louis, this is Glenne, Jeff’s wife.”

He holds out his hand for her to shake, and her eyes seem to light up in recognition. “Oh Louis! It’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, please come in.” She closes the door behind them and takes a sip from her champagne glass. “Jeff’s around here somewhere, and I’m sure Liam and Zayn got here about an hour ago.”

She’s still talking, but Louis nudges Harry in the side. “You’ve been talking about me?”

Harry goes a bit red in the face. “Of course. I told her about what happened with Marcus, and how we met. I just didn’t tell her the other bit.”

That’s why she was studying Louis like he was under a microscope. “If you told her about Marcus, why did they invite him?” he asks, not unkindly. It’s not really any of his business.

“We have a lot of mutual friends. I didn’t want to make ripples, so I told her I didn’t mind. I also told her that I was bringing you.”

It makes sense. That doesn’t mean that Louis has to like it. “I get it. I couldn’t stand most of Marcus’ friends. You’re nicer than I am.”

Harry nudges him with his hip as he leads them towards the kitchen, away from the crowds of people that are milling around. It’s thankfully empty and Harry pours them each a glass of red wine. “Classier than I’m used to,” Louis comments as he sips it. It’s good, as good as wine can be. He’d rather be drinking a pint, if he’s honest. “This wasn’t exactly what I was invited. The parties I’m used to are more like going to clubs than this.”

“Jeff and Glenne like these kinds of things. It’s not really my kind of thing either, but they’re my friends and Jeff is my boss. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Harry says, mouth tilted in a concerned frown. It’s so cute that Louis wants to pinch his cheek.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re trying to get rid of me! The nerve,” Louis cries, shaking his fist in Harry’s direction.

Harry rolls his eyes and sips his wine. “Of course not, Lou. Who else would keep me entertained and drive me home later on?”

Louis lets out a mock-offended noise and clutches at his chest. “A glorified taxi driver and reduced to an escort. I should leave you here by yourself on principle.”

“Please don’t,” Harry laughs. He wraps his arm around Louis and pulls him into a hug. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Keep hugging me like this. “I guess you could make me some of those pumpkin muffins I like so much. We might be able to call it even then.” It feels good being pressed against Harry like this. Harry’s always warm and he smells good, like his lavendar soap and his apple shampoo. “Unless Niall eats them all again. Fucker didn’t even save me one last time.”

Harry laughs and his arm falls away, leaving Louis feeling bereft. He doesn’t like it. “Speaking of, where is he?”

Glad for the distraction, Louis checks his mobile. “He’s always late. It’s like his thing. Maybe we should go find Liam and Zayn, yeah?” Harry nods and they head off, glasses of wine in hand. Even with the amount of people scattered around the downstairs, they find their friends pretty easily. Niall shows up after a while and the five of them stick together, drinking wine and talking. Louis doesn’t even bother looking for Marcus; he’s having a good enough time that he’s not really worried about it.

After a couple more glasses of wine, Louis is feeling pretty loose-limbed and relaxed. Harry’s clinging to him like a limpet and keeps muttering rubbish into his ear to make him burst into laughter more than once. He feels warm and floaty. He can even ignore the looks that they’re getting from the other three.

He’s in middle of debating about football with Liam and some bloke named Josh when he feels Harry go stiff against his back. “Don’t look now, but Marcus is heading over here,” Harry whispers into his ear.

Sure enough, Marcus is stomping towards them with all the grace of an angry hippo. Or something like that. Louis is really bad at metaphors when he’s been drinking. “Do you two think you’re cute or something?” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music.

Josh has wisely made himself scarce, but Liam sticks close to the two of them. It’s not long until Niall and Zayn are at their sides as well, all three of them looking as on edge as Louis feels.

“I’m sorry, Marcus, but I’m not quite sure what you mean?” Louis says sweetly. His tongue is pretty loose from the alcohol and the way Harry is tense against his back is making him want to fight. Marcus could probably beat him to a pulp, but he feels braver with his friends by his side.

Marcus gestures towards where he and Harry are pressed together. “Whatever this is. I don’t know what shit you’re trying to pull but it’s not cute. I knew you were a petty bitch, but this is a bit much.”

The words hit him right in the gut. The uneasy feeling that’s been simmering on the back burner of his mind all night rushes forward and makes his stomach turn. Marcus isn’t even wrong , but being called out on it makes him bristle. “What the fuck are you on about? And don’t fucking call me that.”

“Why not?” Marcus asks with a laugh, though it’s not a nice sound. “I’m talking about whatever you’re doing with Harry.” His eyes flick up over Louis’ shoulder and he can feel Harry tense even more. “I never thought you’d be that much of a prick either, Harry.”

At that, Louis’ entire world narrows to just the three of them, like a spotlight flickered to life and is shining down on them. He forgets that he’s in someone else’s house, that the crowd around them has gone eerily quiet. The only sound he can hear is the roaring of his blood in his ears and the staccato beat of Harry’s heartbeat. “Don’t talk to him like that. You need to fuck off. We’re together, and you don’t get to say shit about it. You fucked us both over and so what if we found comfort in each other? What’s got you angrier, that we figured out what a scumbag you are, or that now you have to see us together? Fuck. Off.”

Marcus’ eyes go wide. “What?”

“You heard him. We’re together and it’s none of your business,” Harry adds, albeit shakily.

“But I...I thought you were just…”

Louis laughs, but the sound rings hollow. “Well, you thought wrong. It’s not like it’s a new thing for you, is it? Now please, why don’t you go somewhere else so we can all enjoy the party in peace?” he says icily.

Marcus stands there, gaping, but swallows and nods his head. His eyebrows pinch together and he sneers, “Well, I wish you two the very best of luck. You certainly deserve each other.” He storms off, shoving through the people gathered in the room.

Someone gasps, and it’s like someone presses play and the world speeds back up. Louis blinks and is aware of the dozens of pairs of eyes on them now. They burn across his skin and the room feels too small; he has to get out of there. Without thinking, he grabs Harry’s hand and starts tugging them towards the door. The crowd parts wordlessly and Louis breathes out a sigh of relief when the cool night air hits his face.

“Can we go to the car, please?” Harry asks quietly.

Louis nods and they walk quietly towards the car, and he’s thankful for his foresight about the parking situation. A sickening mix of feelings roll around in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant to make a scene, especially not in front of Harry’s friends. Between Marcus’ words and his own embarrassment, Louis feels like he just needs to crawl into bed and sleep for a while.

He opens the door for Harry, who is still trembling and chalk-white. It makes Louis want to wrap him in a blanket and hold him. Walking around to the driver’s side feels like it takes years and when he climbs in, he doesn’t even start the car. “Harry...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it like that,” he manages to choke out, looking down at his lap.

The silence is thick and heavy in a way that Louis has never experienced with Harry. It feels wrong. Finally, Harry says, “But he’s not wrong, Louis.” The words are so soft that Louis has to strain to hear him, and they sit like a stone in his belly.

“Yeah, well. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m right too,” Louis snaps. The words sting and he doesn’t like them, makes him prickly all over again. “He didn’t need to come over and say that.” Especially not to you he doesn’t say. Thinking about him talking to Harry like that makes his blood burn all over again. Part of him wants to walk back in there and punch him for it.

“But isn’t that what you wanted? What we wanted?” Harry asks, voice cool. Louis’ head snaps up and Harry is frowning at him. “That was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? To make him upset and hurt?”

Louis’ own eyes narrow. “It was. So what, having second thoughts now?”

Harry’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ and then morphs into a hard line. “I think I’m allowed to be upset too,” he says archly.

“Why, because he got pissy? Because he tried to call us out when he’s the one who deserves to feel like shit? He only did it because his ego was bruised, not because he actually cared about us. He cheated on the two of us with each other for six months a piece, Harry. He doesn’t deserve for you to feel bad for him,” Louis grits out through clenched teeth. The night isn’t going at all like he thought it would. He’s too sober to be dealing with this right now, and he ignores the niggling voice in the back of his head.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he waves his hands around like it’ll make Louis understand. “I can’t help it that I’m a nice person, Louis! I don’t care how shit they are, it’s going to bother me!”

His insides go cold. “And I’m not, is that what you’re saying?” he asks, soft and dangerous. It’s an ugly feeling and he knows Harry doesn’t deserve it, but it’s flooding through him before he can stop it. “You were pretty gung-ho about this from the start. I’m not the only one who participated in this farce.”

Harry blows out a breath and his entire body deflates. “I know. I’m not saying you aren’t.” He falls back against the seat and closes his eyes. It makes Louis ache to touch him, but he also can’t let go of the anger bubbling in his veins. “I just...it’s not sitting right, okay? It was fine, but that was before…” he trails off, clamping his lips shut. He starts to bite them and refuses to look at Louis.

“Before what?” Louis presses.

“It doesn’t matter. I just… I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” Harry murmurs.

It hits Louis like a punch in the stomach. He’s not sure why it makes him want to be sick, hearing that, because nothing has to change between them. They can still be friends and hang out, but. None of that explains why it feels like his stomach drops somewhere near his feet. “Yeah, okay,” he answers, voice blank. It doesn’t even sound like him talking.

Harry’s face pinches and he reaches over to touch Louis on the arm. “Lou…” His fingers are cold. Harry’s always warm, like a space heater. Maybe it means something. When Louis doesn’t react, he draws back and curls up in the seat. “Can you take me home please?”

He may nod back, he’s not sure, but he starts the car and pulls away from the house. It’s entirely too quiet, but neither of them feel like talking, so the air hangs stale between them. It’s the exact opposite of when they left Harry’s flat when he parks in front. This time, there’s no laughter and jokes, just stony silence.

A beat passes and Harry asks quietly, “Call me tomorrow?” His eyes are wide and Louis forces himself to look at him, even though he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah, sure.” He makes himself smile, but it’s probably more of a grimace. Hurt flickers across Harry’s features but Louis feels like he’s stuck in a stasis. “Sleep well, Harry.”

Harry nods as he gets out of the car and Louis watches him walk around the front, all the way to his front door. When it shuts behind him, Louis slams his hands against the steering wheel. Frustration bleeds out of him as hot tears burn their way down his cheeks. He wants to scream, but the sound stays trapped in his throat. It takes a long, long moment but he finally makes himself stop. His palms sting and his chest is heaving. Fuck. Every nerve ending wants him to go knock on Harry’s door, hug him and tell him he’s right, wants to make everything better again.

Instead, he pulls away.

-*-

Louis doesn’t call Harry the next day. Or several of the subsequent days after that. He endures a lecture from Niall about driving home when he was both upset and tipsy (like Niall can really talk about that one), nodding in all of the right places. He ignores the near constant buzzing of his mobile. He doesn’t want to talk to Harry about what happened, and he doesn’t want to listen to Zayn and Liam yell at him about not talking to Harry. Niall learned the hard way when he brought it up and Louis snapped at him.

He apologized by ordering them pizza and getting Niall’s favorite beer, but still.

Even the kids in his class have taken to tip-toeing around him like he’s a landmine waiting to blow. He knows he’s being a bit of a baby about this, but he can’t help it.

When he’s not at work, he’s laying in bed and going over everything in his head. Harry had said that something changed, and Louis is desperate to figure out what it is. Why it feels like another break-up instead of just stopping their arrangement.

He even tries going out to the club that he used to frequent before he and Marcus got together. He drinks, and he dances with a few fit guys who approach him, but the idea of taking any of them home feels...a bit like cheating, if he’s honest. Which is stupid, considering he’s single. He doesn’t look too closely at why that might be. Louis is nothing if not stubborn as a mule.

It all comes to a head about a week later, a week after the unfortunate incident at the party. His mobile has stopped buzzing and he’s not sure if that hurts worse. He’s hungover from another failed night out, laying in bed, when he is woken up rather suddenly by a very put-out Niall.

“Fuck off, Niall! I’m sleeping,” he groans, which only makes Niall shake him harder. Finally, he sits up and growls, “If you don’t fucking stop, I’m going to punch you in your stupid blonde face.”

“Not if I don’t punch you first, you twat,” Niall snipes back. He’s frowning, far from his usual sunny smile. That’s how Louis knows he means business. “It’s time for you to stop being a piss baby and fix this. I’ve let you wallow for two weeks and it’s time to put your big girl knickers on.”

Louis rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he tries, pointedly not looking at Niall.

“Like fuck you don’t.” Niall jerks the covers off and ignores Louis’ indignant squawk of protest. “Get up. You’re going to shower and put some clean clothes on. Then, we’re going to go sit at the table. I’m going to make you tea and we’re going to talk about this and figure out how to fix it,” he orders, dumping Louis’ comforter on the floor. “I’m giving you five minutes to get your arse out of bed and shower, or I’m going to dump you in there myself.”

Warmth flares in his chest despite himself. He still kind of wants to punch Niall for waking him up, but he can’t deny that it makes him feel good. Grumbling, he gets to his feet and shuffles into his en suite. It's probably the quickest shower he’s ever taken, mostly because he’s afraid Niall will come barreling in and start washing him himself. Once he’s out, he pulls on a t-shirt that’s way too big for him and a pair of ratty sweats that cut off at his knee. A pang hits him in the chest when he realizes he’s wearing Harry’s stupid Hot and Hard shirt that he left.

Niall must realize it too, because his eyes go wide when he sees it. Wisely, he doesn’t say anything, instead pushing a steaming mug towards Louis’ chair. “Okay. Spill.”

“You were there. You saw what happened,” Louis dodges, sipping his tea. There’s too much milk, but he appreciates the effort.

Niall shakes his head. “Yeah, but what happened after. Come on, Louis, I’m not stupid.Something happened when you two left the party. Zayn says Harry’s been moping around his flat like a deflated balloon.”

The idea of them discussing him and Harry makes him prickle again. “Well, then I’m sure you heard already. Why do you need me to tell you?” he snips.

It’s a testament to how long they’ve been friends when Niall just rolls his eyes. “We may have had a powwow about it, but I want to hear from you, okay?” he says, features softening. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Louis can’t help himself. He reaches out and pinches Niall’s cheek, giving them both a much needed laugh. When it fades, there’s still a lump in his stomach. “We...fought, I guess. We fought about what Marcus said and he said...he said he didn’t want to pretend anymore. All of it just kind of made me mad because yeah, it was my idea, but he helped. You know? He said something changed and that just..,” he rambles, staring into the tea swirling in his mug.

Niall is quiet for a long moment, until he asks, “Are you mad because Marcus called you out, or are you mad because it’s not real?”

Louis’ head whips up. “What?”

“Are you mad because Marcus called you on your fake relationship, or are you mad because it was fake in the first place and you didn’t like hearing it?” Niall clarifies. Louis starts to sputter protests, but Niall holds his hand up to cut him off. “Think about it, Louis. You pretend, but even your pride isn’t that big.”

So he does. He thinks about how it felt when Harry said that. He thinks about how the last month or so has felt with Harry, the two of them constantly laughing and cuddling and touching each other. How pretty Harry is when he laughs. How Harry is literally the only person Louis doesn’t threaten to stab when he steals food off his plate. How he always smells good and warm, like home.

Realization floods through him and his mouth falls open. “Holy fuck.”

Niall lets out a cheer and smacks him on the back. “Ding ding ding! Goddamn finally. You’re so stupid sometimes, you know that?” He falls back in his chair and folds his hands on the tabletop. “So. Now the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

That’s the issue, isn’t it? What is he going to do, if he hasn’t fucked this up irrevocably. He looks down at the mug still clutched in his hands like it might give him the answer to all of his questions. When it doesn’t, he frowns and looks back up at Niall. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you think I should do?”

“You could start by answering Harry’s texts. Grovel a bit. A grand gesture or two might be appreciated.”

Niall is no help. “I don’t know if either of us really want to deal with any other grand gestures, if I’m honest,” Louis admits, scrunching his nose.

“You’re the secret romantic, you tell me. Besides, these are different grand gestures. Better ones. Smarter ones, even,” Niall says with a grin.

“And you’re about two minutes away from a gesture that leaves you with a bloody nose, you prick.”

Again, Niall just rolls his eyes. “Just calling it like it is. I tried to tell you that it was a bad idea to keep going with it, but I’ve learned that sometimes it’s better to just let you fall on your face.” This time, Louis swipes out at him, but he dodges it easily. Slippery Irish bastard. “In all seriousness, though. You need to tell him.”

Louis grimaces at the thought. “Tell him what, Niall? ‘Hey Haz, I know this is kind of weird, but I sort of started to fall for you even though we were pretending to be each other’s rebound. That’s cool, right?” He lays his head down on the table. “It sounds stupid even saying it out loud.”

“Actually, I think that’s perfect. That would encapsulate everything that you want to express.”

“Someone swallowed a thesaurus this morning,” Louis grumbles under his breath. Louder, he says, “You seem awfully sure about this. How are you so sure that he’s not going to just reject me? He did say he didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“He said that he didn’t want to fake-date you anymore. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to real date you,” Niall points out. He steals Louis’ tea and takes a sip, making a face when he hands it back. “And anyone with eyes can see Harry is head over heels for you.”

“I didn’t see it!”

Niall quirks an eyebrow at him. “We’ve established that you’re kind of dense sometimes. But it doesn’t matter. Now you know, so let’s do something about it.”

The two of them start brainstorming together, but Louis keeps shooting down Niall’s suggestions. The coffee shop where they met has too many bad memories associated with it. Louis isn’t confident enough in his ability in the kitchen to cook a romantic dinner for them. Whisking Harry away for a surprise romantic getaway isn’t feasible for either of their jobs. Louis refuses to sing Harry cheesy love songs. Flowers aren’t enough to express how sorry he is.

He throws his hands in the air in frustration. His tea has long gotten cold, and Niall has started complaining about hungry he is. “This is useless! Nothing is right,” he whines, draping himself across the table. “I’m doomed, Niall. Doomed.”

Niall wisely says nothing. After a couple of minutes, he says, “Why don’t you just tell him? Like I’ve been telling you to do for hours now. Just go over there and tell him how you feel. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

“He could say no,” Louis says flatly. The thought of Harry rejecting him makes his heart twist painfully in his chest. He wouldn’t even be mean about it. He’d be sweet and polite and so, so caring, which would almost be worse. Then he’d have to figure out how to be friends with Harry despite it, because how could he not?

“I can see your downward spiral from here. Stop overthinking it and just do it.” With that, Niall gets up and grabs Louis’ mobile, thrusting it into his hands.

Louis takes a deep breath and opens some of the messages that have been piling up. Most of them are from Zayn and Liam, a couple from his mother that can wait. There’s two or three of them from Harry, the last one almost a week ago.

Louis. I miss you.

He swallows around the lump in his throat. Fuck, he really did mess this up, didn’t he? He taps Harry’s number and waits while the line starts to ring. But it doesn’t. It goes straight to voicemail and Louis’ stomach sinks. He hangs up and blinks back the tears in his eyes. “He didn’t pick up. Went to voicemail,” he explains miserably, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand.

“Call Liam, then.”

Louis nods, and thumbs through his contacts until he find’s Liam’s number. This time it rings and Liam picks up with a, “Hello? Lou?”

“Yeah. It’s me,” he forces out. He braces himself for the inevitable lecture that Liam probably has all planned out for him.

Instead, all he hears is a sigh of relief. “It’s good to hear from you. We were really worried about you. You weren’t answering messages.” It’s not accusing, or even angry. Liam’s voice is even, like it always is, and something inside Louis’ chest loosens a little.

“I know. I’m sorry. I…” he stops, clearing his throat. “Is Harry there? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s not. He left a little while ago. Did he not answer his mobile?”

Louis shakes his head, but realizes after a moment Liam can’t see him. “No. It went to voicemail.” The lump is back and his words feel thick in his mouth. “I was hoping he was there, so I could come by. Can you...can you tell him to call me?”

“Of course, Lou,” he says warmly. “And by the way, don’t do that again, or Zayn and I might have to kill you.”

He lets out a watery laugh. “Okay, Payno. See you later.” He hangs up and sets his mobile down on the table. “So what now?”

Niall opens his mouth to answer, but the doorbell rings before he can speak. They exchange confused looks and Niall pads over to answer it. Louis’ back is turned, but then Niall yells out, “Louis, it’s for you!”

Louis groans. With this luck, it’ll probably be Marcus. He trudges towards the entry and stops short.

Of course it’s Harry, standing sheepishly in the doorway with his feet turned in. He’s holding two steaming cups, The Tea Leaf logo on the side. His eyes are red-rimmed and a little puffy, like he hasn’t been sleeping. His skin is pale and his hair limp, but he has never looked more beautiful. “Surprise?” he offers weakly.

Ignoring the giant shit-eating grin on Niall’s face, Louis motions for him to come inside. He fights every single instinct to wrap Harry up in his arms and whisper about how everything is going to be okay. They need to talk first, he needs to make sure everything is actually okay between them.

Harry flops down on the couch and Louis sinks down after him, taking the offered cup from him. “You went back? I thought you said you’d never go back,” he croaks out. He sips it, and he could cry when the taste of Yorkshire tea floods his tastebuds. Harry remembered his order, from that very first day they met. God, Louis is so fond of him it’s ridiculous.

“I...I don’t know why, really. It just felt like the thing to do.” Harry pinches his lip between his fingers, looking down at his lap. “Louis, I-”

He cuts him off. “No, Harry. I’m the one who needs to apologize.” Taking a shaky breath, he starts again. “I was… you were right. We took it too far and it wasn’t fair of me to get angry at you when you were uncomfortable or upset. I acted like a twat, and I’m not proud of it.” He can feel Harry’s eyes on him now, but he can’t look at him. Not yet. “Sometimes, I’m a bit thick. And proud, which makes it even worse.” This time, he looks up, meeting Harry’s wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for acting like that. Marcus just made me so angry because...he was right too. Even if I hate myself a little for saying that.”

Harry’s face goes soft and he reaches over to rest his hand on Louis’ knee. It’s warm and it hits him just how much he’s missed Harry’s touch. He really has been dense. “Please don’t. You were hurt and angry too. And you were right, he didn’t need to make a scene in the middle of the party. Jeff told me that he pulled him aside and told him off for it. We could have gone outside or something.”

A tiny weight falls off Louis’ shoulders at that. At least he didn’t screw up things irrevocably with Harry’s boss. His stomach still feels like it’s tied in knots and he takes another deep, shaky breath to steady himself. “That’s...that’s good. But, that’s not everything.” He pauses, swallowing. It was now or never. “I’m also sorry because...I got angry that he was right about it not being real.” Harry’s mouth drops and Louis can feel the words trying to glue themselves to the roof of his mouth. “I don’t want it to be fake. I want to really get to hold your hand, and sneak kisses in the locker room, and have you cook dinner in my kitchen because we’re having a night in. I want to take you out and…I want to fall in love with you. I’m already well on my way, so it won’t be that hard. Getting back at Marcus was fun and all, but the best part about it was getting you.”

He clamps his mouth shut before he can keep rambling and embarrass himself any further. Harry hasn’t moved since he started talking, ruby lips slack and his eyes wide. “Harry, please say something…” Louis forces out as he fights off the urge to cry.

Harry doesn’t speak. Instead, he primly takes Louis’  tea from him. For one irrational second, Louis thinks he’s going to take the tea back and leave, but he sets them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Then, he launches himself on top of Louis, arms wrapped tight around his neck as they tumble back onto the seat. He presses sweet kisses all over Louis’ face and Louis feels like his heart might beat out of his chest. “Harry, Haz, Harry!” he tries, but Harry just keeps smothering him with pecks along his cheeks and forehead and even the tip of his nose.

“Louis, you’re so stupid and brilliant and lovely and oh my god, I can’t believe you,” Harry mutters between kisses, finally stopping long enough to look at Louis. He’s beaming, so hard that Louis might go blind from it. His dimple pops out and he rubs their noses together.

“Does this mean you want that too?” Louis jokes. There’s still a thread of insecurity wrapped around his heart, but it pops when Harry swoops down and kisses him properly.

The kiss is perfect. He wants to say he hears fireworks and bells, but he doesn’t. It just feels like coming home, like the crescendo in a piece they’ve been composing longer than either of them realized. Their mouths move together and Louis entire body lights up when Harry traces the seam of his lips with the tip of his tongue. He tastes spicy, like the chai he was drinking, and like the vanilla lip balm he uses all the time.

When they pull apart, Harry’s eyes are shining and there’s the most beautiful pink flush high on his cheeks. “I think it’s safe to say that yes, I want that too.”

Louis fights the urge to fist pump.

“And that’s my cue to leave!” Niall calls out from somewhere behind them. “We’ll celebrate properly when you two are done humping like rabbits!”

“Goodbye, Niall,” Louis calls back, the door slamming his response. He shakes his head before turning his attention back towards Harry. “We don’t have to, you know. We can take it-”

“Fuck that! We’ve already been dating for months and pretending to shag. I think it’s about time we do it properly, don’t you?”

He isn’t going to lie about the heat that throbs in his belly at that. “You aren’t going to hear me complain.” Louis finds himself on his feet and being dragged through his own flat towards his bedroom. Laughter bubbles out of him and he almost can’t believe he’s here now. It doesn’t feel real, at least until Harry has him backed up against his bedroom door. “Fuck,” he hisses, when Harry’s thigh slides up against him just right.

“Do you know how many times I thought about doing this?” Harry asks, pressing his words against the skin of his throat. He nibbles and sucks at the thin skin, leaving a trail of marks that Louis will have to cover up before Monday. “Do you remember that first time? In the locker room?” Louis nods and bites his lip when Harry’s thigh shifts up, rocking against his cock. “I would have let you fuck me right then.”

Arousal sparks down Louis’ nerve endings like lightning at the very thought. It wouldn’t have meant then what it will now, but he can’t help the way it makes him almost wish they had. “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?” Louis grits out. He’s forcing himself to keep his hips still, though all he wants is to rut up against Harry’s thigh.

Harry lets out a pretty moan as his eyelashes flutter. “Would you?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Louis shoves at him and then grabs his wrist, leading him into his bedroom. Harry falls back against the mattress and Louis wastes no time before he crawls over him to kiss him again. It’s messy and perfect and he never wants it to end. He nips at Harry’s bottom lip when they pull apart, swallowing the little noise Harry makes. “You’re so beautiful, god.” But he doesn’t give Harry a chance to answer before he’s busy fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

He has to take a moment when the shirt falls open. He’s seen bits and pieces of Harry’s torso, from all the shirts he wears and his apparent allergy to buttons, but this is the first time he’s really gotten to appreciate it. Harry’s nipples are the same pretty pink as his lips and they’re already tightened into pert little points that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

So, he does.

Harry’s reaction is immediate. As soon as Louis drags his tongue across one, Harry’s back arches off the bed and his hands tangle in Louis’ hair, like he’s afraid he might stop. Instead, he wraps his lips around his nipple and sucks, pulling it between his teeth. He rolls the other one between his fingers and focuses on the noises Harry’s making. Hoarse little groans fall from Harry’s lips and his fingers tighten in his hair.

He pulls off with one last lick and sits up, letting his eyes roam. Harry’s flushed now, his eyes a little glassy as he stares up at Louis. “One day, I’m going to play with your nipples until you can’t stand it,” Louis muses, pinching at his nipple as if to make his point.

Harry nods frantically. “Please, fuck, that sounds perfect.” He’s panting now and Louis can see the shape of his cock curved up in his jeans.

Louis scoots down, trailing kisses along the soft skin of his chest and down his belly, smiling when it trembles a little beneath his lips. He follows the lines of Harry’s butterfly with his tongue and his eyes cross when he sees… “Harry? Are those…”

“Please don’t laugh.”

It’s said so soft that Louis’ heart drops a little, like maybe Harry hadn't meant for him to hear after all. “I would never,” he assures him, pressing a kiss to the tip of the butterfly’s wing.

Harry lets out a shaky breath. “It’s just...um...Marcus laughed, the first time he saw them.”

Rage boils up in Louis, but he breathes it out just as quickly. Neither of them need that right now, not when things are going so good. He doesn’t answer, flicking his tongue across the smaller bud and smiling when Harry huffs out a laugh. “Not as sensitive, I see. Shame. I could play with all of them.”

It works, and Harry goes liquid against the sheets again. Louis takes it as a good sign and he continues his journey down further, nipping marks down the thin trail of hair that leads to Harry’s zipper. He’s done teasing.

It’s a bit of a fight to get Harry’s jeans off, but the view was worth the wait. Harry’s cock is thick and long and flushed beautifully at the tip, Louis’ mouth watering just looking at it. He could write odes to this cock if he were so inclined. Before he can get his mouth on it, though, Harry shoves at his head and makes him look up. “Get naked first,” he demands. And really, who is Louis to say no to that?

He staggers off the bed and shoves his joggers down, his own cock heavy between his legs. Harry’s eyes burn across his skin as he strips his shirt off next, dumping it on the floor before walking over to his nightstand. He digs through it and pulls out his almost full bottle of lube and a string of condoms he prays aren’t expired. When he turns to climb back on the bed, Harry’s on all fours and close enough to suck the head of his cock into his mouth.

“Harry, what-”

He pops off long enough to say, “Get me ready while I suck you,” before flicking his tongue across Louis’ slit. Louis probably looks like a complete idiot, standing there clutching the lube with his mouth open while Harry licks and sucks at him, but he can’t be blamed. Not while Harry’s mouth is hot and tight around his cock. He looks down and can’t take his eyes off the way Harry’s lips are stretched around him, the blissful look on his face while he bobs further and further down.

He must look for too long before Harry draws back, dragging his tongue along the underside before he lets Louis’ cock fall from his lips. Louis might very well cry. “Forgetting something?” he teases, lips bumping right up against the head. It sends little shivers along Louis’ nerve endings.

“Fuck,” Louis replies eloquently. Shakily, he drops the condoms on the bed and squeezes lube out onto his fingers, while Harry resumes his mind-melting blowjob. Louis has gotten head plenty of time in his life, but Harry sucks cock like it’s his job.

Louis has to fold himself over Harry to reach behind him, forcing his cock further into Harry’s mouth. Harry doesn’t seem to mind one bit, still bobbing up and down like he could do this all night. He shakes his head, stretching so that he can rub his fingers against Harry’s rim. He lets out a hum around Louis’ cock and Louis grits his teeth to focus.

The tip of his finger sinks into Harry and he starts to pump, sliding in a little deeper with each thrust. He starts to rock his hips in time with his fingers, hissing when Harry digs his nails into his thigh. Taking that as a sign, he starts to pull back, but Harry’s hands tighten on his hips. Heat pools in Louis’ stomach. “You want me to fuck your face? While I finger you open?” he says, sinking his finger deeper.

Harry hums, blinking up at him before his eyes slide closed again. Fuck,he’s the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen . He rocks his hips again, working back up to the rhythm they had going a few moments ago. This time, he slides another finger in and starts to scissor his fingers open, loving the way that Harry’s body opens up to him. He fucks Harry’s mouth at a slow, leisurely pace, like they have all the time in the world for this. Finally, he pushes a third finger in along with the other two, and Harry sucks harder.

He’s moaning around his mouthful and Louis wraps his clean hand tight in his curls, pulling him off. Harry lets out a whimper, but Louis shushes him by pushing the head of his cock against his lips. “You ready? You feel ready.”

It takes Harry a moment, dragging his tongue across the head one last time before he speaks. “Let me ride you.”

Louis’ brain shorts out at the suggestion. His cock flexes against Harry’s lips and he has to force himself not to just thrust back inside his hot, plush mouth. “Okay, yeah,” he answers dumbly. He lets go of Harry’s hair and pulls his fingers out with a loud, sucking sound. Christ, he might explode with how much he wants Harry right now.

“On your back,” Harry instructs, and Louis scrambles to do as he says. Bossy Harry is something he could get used to. He lets out a groan when Harry wraps his hand around his cock, stroking him and rolling his palm around the head. “So thick, fuck. And so pretty, too.” He keeps stroking as he reaches for the string of condoms, grinning when he picks them up. “Aren’t we ambitious?”

“You think I’m going to let you out of this bed after one round? Fuck no. We have months to make up for, you said so yourself,” Louis grins back.

Harry laughs before tearing one off with his teeth. “That’s the kind of attitude I like.” He lets go of Louis long enough open it and then he’s rolling it down his length, taking his time and making Louis entire body tingle with pleasure. Grabbing the lube, he drizzles it on the latex before tossing it somewhere in the sheets. “Ready?” he asks, but he doesn’t give Louis a chance to answer before he’s climbing onto his lap.

Louis reaches down to hold his cock, but Harry smacks his hand away. With a cheeky grin, he nudges the head of Louis’ cock right against his hole, teasing them both as he rubs it back and forth before finally inching it inside.

He feels the exact moment he pushes through and slowly, Harry is sinking down on him. Everything narrows down to the way Harry’s body is snug around him, warm and perfect. Louis clenches his fists in the sheet as Harry pushes himself down with little bounces that make his belly tighten. He wants to tell Harry how good he feels, how tight, but all that comes out is a garbled mess of words and moans.

Harry looks pleased with himself, smug almost, but the flush on his cheeks and the way his thighs are shaking gives him away. After what feels like years, he finally seats himself all the way and takes a moment to breathe, arse snug against Louis’ balls.

He’s not the only one. Louis’ cock twitches inside of him and it takes everything in his power not to grab Harry by the hips and just fuck into him. Another beat passes and Harry plants his hands on Louis’ chest, picking himself up and then dropping back down. It pulls a moan out of Louis and his hands do fly up to wrap around Harry’s hips, thumbs brushing against the laurels tattooed there.

It’s not long until Harry is bouncing on his cock, his body clenching around Louis’ cock buried inside of him. He’s an absolute vision, hair thrown back and his mouth open as he moans and gasps with each thrust. Louis can’t tear his eyes off the way his abs bunch, the way his thighs clench.

He can feel his orgasm coiling in his belly, the heat of it flooding through his veins as it builds. He could lie and say it’s because it’s been a while, but Harry feels so fucking good he can’t. “God, look at you, wanna fuck you forever,” he pants as Harry speeds up.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Harry chants back. He lifts his hands and bows his back, putting his entire body on display as he rolls and grinds down on Louis’ cock. His own length is bobbing in time with his thrusts, precome pearling at the tip. Louis goes to touch him, but then suddenly, Harry is reaching back and feeling around in the sheets for something. “Wanna try something.” He doesn’t pause in his bounces as he pours lube on his fingers before tossing it back on the bed. He reaches behind him and Louis feels fingers prodding at his own entrance. “Spread your legs wider, please,” Harry asks, and without thought, Louis does it.

Still bent back, Harry starts to push one of his fingers inside Louis, even while he keeps up his pace. It’s a bit awkward, but the feeling of being fucked while fucking Harry is enough to make Louis’ eyes roll back in his head. He thrusts his hips up, meeting Harry’s bounces and rocking down into the fingers that are pumping inside of him. It’s like they’re caught in in a loop as the two of them move together.

“Can I...I’m so close...wanna touch you,” he forces out. They’re both drenched in sweat and he’s so close he can feel the pressure building at the base of his spine. Harry doesn’t look much better, long hair sticking to his skin and his entire body flushed red.

“Yes, please,” Harry wails, sliding another finger inside Louis.

He wraps his hands around Harry’s cock and strokes him fast, in time with Harry’s bounces on his cock. Harry lets out another wail and goes rigid, body rippling almost painfully around his cock as he comes. He spurts up his own chest and hits himself under the chin and he looks down at Louis with glassy, lust-blown eyes. His body keeps trembling through the aftershocks as he rolls to a stop and just lets Louis fuck up into him to chase his own orgasm. “Come on, fuck, come for me, Lou,” he coaxes, still thrusting his fingers.

Louis grip tightens on him and he plants his feet into the bed, pounding up into Harry as he gets closer and closer. One more deep thrust and the press of Harry’s fingers against his prostate, and Louis is done for. He pulls Harry down onto him as he comes, cock flexing as he fills up the condom and his arse clenching around Harry’s fingers. His hole spasms and he finally falls back into the bed.

Every muscle feels like it’s turned to jelly and his chest is heaving.  Sweet fucking Christ. “Holy fuck,” he says between breaths. “Do you always fuck like that, or do I need to hold out on you some more?”

That earns him a smack to his chest. “Don’t even joke like that,” Harry growls, gripping the base of Louis’ cock as he pulls himself off. He flops next to Louis and kisses him on the shoulder. “And you weren’t so bad yourself, you know.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “Well thanks, I guess.” He runs his clean hand through his sweaty hair. “How do you feel about a shower?”

“Sounds perfect, once I can feel my legs again,” Harry quips, rolling onto his side. He’s smiling down at Louis, his dimple out in full force. “That was amazing. Everything I thought it would be,” he says, voice soft.

Louis smiles, pulling Harry in for another kiss. His lips are just as soft and sweet as the first time. Even sweaty and with Harry’s come smeared between them, Louis’ heart feels too full for his chest. He wasn’t used to laughing and sharing sweet kisses after sex. But he quickly drowns that thought by kissing Harry even harder. He doesn’t want to think about it, not when he could be thinking about the way Harry tastes.

When the pull apart, he pecks Harry one last time before he sits up. He makes quick work of pulling the condom off, tying it and tossing it in the rubbish bin beside his bed. “So, shower?” he asks, grinning. It dims, though, when he sees Harry staring at him, lip tucked beneath his teeth. “What is it?”

“Are you… are you sure this isn’t just a rebound?” Harry asks, fiddling with the sheet between his fingers. He looks somewhere over Louis’ shoulder. “I know, it’s stupid because you said...you said it before we had sex but-”

Louis doesn’t let him finish. He squishes Harry’s cheeks between his palms and kisses him on the nose. “Baby, I want you, okay? I want to be your boyfriend and take you out and hold your hand and all that stuff. And that’s what you want, right?” he asks, smiling when Harry nods. “Okay, then, boyfriend...how about that shower?”

“Keep calling me that, please,” Harry whispers, leaning closer to kiss Louis again.

“Oh, now you say please,” Louis grumbles good-naturedly, laughing at Harry’s affronted noise. “Don’t worry, love. The power bottom thing totally works for you.”

“Well, you weren’t complaining about ten minutes ago, were you?” Harry sniffs, folding his arms. Louis gives him five seconds before he’s tackling him into the sheets, tickling his sides and making Harry squirm underneath him. “Mercy, mercy, mercy!” Harry yells out, but this time, Louis pulls back and gives him a kiss. “You’re horrible.”

Louis grins. “How about I blow you in the shower to make it up to you?”

“Race you there!”

--

They do eventually get showered and get dressed, both of them rolling their eyes when they see Niall, Liam, and Zayn standing in Louis’ living room with balloons and a cake that says “Congratulations! You finally fucked!”

“I just want to say that the cake was completely Niall’s idea,” Liam insists.

“Because the balloons are so much better,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. Harry, on the other hand, looks absolutely thrilled by it.

After generous helpings of cake and a couple of pregame shots, the five of them head off towards a pub for celebratory dinner at Niall’s insistence. Zayn and Liam are singing along with the radio in the front seat, Niall making snide comments at the way Harry is practically sitting in Louis’ lap.

Louis just flips him off.

As soon as they walk in, Louis grips Harry’s hand and holds him close as they make their way through the crowd. It feels good, great even, being able to touch Harry, and when they sit down in the booth, he gets to pull him into his side and keep him there.

For half a second, Louis entertains the idea of calling Marcus up to thank him.

Almost.

-*-

Epilogue:

“What shall it be, little love? I’m thinking strawberry, since the last time your Papa made me get blackberry, and you know how I feel about blackberry-”

“Louis?”

The sound of a voice Louis hasn’t heard in years has him turning around, still clutching the jars of jam in his hands. Lila is no help, blowing spit bubbles from where she’ strapped to the front of his chest. “Um...hi?” he tries.

“It’s me, Marcus. Wow, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Like ten years, but Louis doesn’t say that. Marcus hasn’t changed much; his hair is a little thinner and he’s a bit thicker around the middle, but overall he looks the same.

Louis nods, still not sure what to say.

Marcus adjusts his basket on arm, slipping his hands in his pockets. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” he replies, more confused than ever. “Um, so-”

“Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I was a completely scumbag and I did a lot of stupid sh-er, things, when I was younger. I didn’t know a good thing when I had it.”

While Louis appreciates the apology, he can also sense where this is going pretty quickly. He’s seen enough romantic comedies to know a redemption attempt is when he sees one. “Thanks, but...you do see the infant strapped to my chest, yeah? Also, this,” he says, holding up his wedding band. “While it’s very nice of you to apologize, I’m not sure you’re going to find what you’re looking for here.”

Marcus droops a little, but then he says, “Right, well. Congratulations, I guess.” He waits a beat and Louis can guess what’s going to come out of his mouth next. “So, do you still talk to Harry? I’d like to apologize to him as well.”

Louis has to fight not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I think he’s around here somewhere, actually,” he comments, biting back a smile.

“W-what?”

As if on cue, Harry comes goose-stepping down the aisle, with Declan giggling like a madman from his place atop his shoulders. His little fingers are wound tight in Harry’s curls and he’s yelling, “Watch out, Daddy, we’re gonna getcha!”

“Oh no! There’s no escaping now!” he laments, unable to keep from beaming at his son. They stop in front of Louis and Harry crouches down so that Declan can kiss Louis on the nose. “I’ve been gotten.” He knows his entire face is soft and he forgets that Marcus is even standing there until he clears his throat. “Oh! Harry, look who I found in the shop.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he stands back up. “Wow, hi Marcus, how are you?” he holds out his hand to shake, clearly displaying the matching wedding band.

Louis tries not to feel too smug about it.

“You’re married?” Marcus asks, glancing between the two of them. He doesn’t take Harry’s hand, but Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it.

Harry smiles, pulling back and wrapping his arm around Louis. “Yup, eight years last month, right love?” he says, kissing Louis’ temple. Louis hums in reply, letting Lila wrap her tiny fist around his finger.

“U-um, I was just telling Louis how sorry I was, you know, that everything happened like it did. I was a bit of a jerk and neither of you deserved that.”

“Yeah, but you know what? It all worked out in the end, I think. I guess, in a way, we should say thank you!” Louis chirps. The way that Marcus struggles to keep smiling makes him feel a little bad, but it was true. “It’s been really great to see you, but we’ve got to finish our shopping so we can get these two home,” Louis adds, turning back towards the cart. He pushes it down the aisle and hears Harry call back his goodbyes before he catches up to them.

“Papa, who was that?” Declan asks, blue eyes narrowed as he looks over his shoulder.

Louis and Harry exchange a look and then Harry says, “Just someone we used to know, Dee. He was saying he’s sorry for not being a good friend to your Dad and I,” he explains patiently.

Declan doesn’t look convinced. “Did you put him in time-out?”

Louis can’t help but laugh. “You could say that. But don’t worry about it, love. Now, do you want spaghetti or tacos for dinner? Your Papa said you could pick.” Declan cheers and starts chattering about how Papa’s spaghetti is the best in the whole world. “Well, he’s not wrong, if you think about it,” Louis murmurs to Harry, whose shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

“Did you see the look on his face when I walked up? Especially after I heard him hit on you,” Harry replies, still laughing. “You weren’t wrong, though. It really did work out for the best..”

This time, Louis lets himself feel as smug as he wants. With a smirk, he leans down to kiss Lila on the top of her head. “Yeah, I know.”

-END-