Archive of Our Own

"Haz, it's a crisis."

Harry grins against the phone because he can tell from Nick's voice that it's not a crisis crisis. Still, it's Nick, so. "Yeah, okay. Give me a minute." He puts a sputtering Nick on hold.

When he pulls back from the table, everyone looks up from whatever they were looking at on Cam's phone. Dinner's been over for more than an hour, but no one's agreed on where to go next.

"Sorry, gotta take this," Harry waves the phone. "Not sure how long it'll be so I think I'll just call it a night."

He drops a kiss on Glenne's cheek and carefully holds back a smirk at the frown settling in on her friend's face. She's pretty - looks like a model but isn't one - and nice and Glenne was right when she predicted that Harry would like her, but not enough that he feels like he'll be missing out too much by leaving early. He's also pretty sure Glenne can get her to come out again if Harry wants.

"Everything okay?" Jeff asks as he stands to give Harry a hug goodbye.

Harry smiles, imagines the kind of crisis Nick could be having at half-six on a Saturday morning. "Oh, it's probably fine, but we need to catch up anyway."

Jeff glances at Harry's phone and then watches his face. Harry's not sure what it's doing, but Jeff raises an eyebrow as he sits back down. "Tell Grimmy hi," he says as Harry turns to leave, definitely teasing. Harry shakes his head, but keeps walking out.

Settled in the back of the car, Harry thumbs the call on again.

Nick's voice is scratchy, "Pig, Piggy, don't do that. Just go back to sleep and leave me to my misery just like Harry--"

"I didn't leave you, Grim, I just had to finish something." Harry leans his head back as the car starts.

"I told you it's a crisis." Nick sighs heavily against the phone in a way that Harry knows is supposed to hurt his ear. It works.

"Well, I'm all yours now." An understatement, really, but as usual, Harry doesn't dwell. "So tell me."

"I went to Kevin's today - he had like, a hundred suits for me to look at; loads of events coming up." Nick pauses, swallows, and Harry instantly wants coffee even though it's after ten. "Oh, wait - this great Prada suit, blue, striped - I know they're not usually your thing, but it'll work. You should have someone get it for you. I'll have Kevin send a pic."

"Focus." Harry rolls his eyes, but does make a mental note to follow up on the suit. "Is this a fashion crisis, then?"

"Ugh, I wish. So we're picking outfits and I realize I have this UK Fashion Man of the Year ceremony I have to go to next week. I can't believe I forgot, but I guess I do hate to think about things I don't want to do."

That's not really true - Nick especially likes to complain about things he doesn't want to do, but interrupting to make that point is probably not going to help at the moment, so Harry lets it go.

"But now that Adam and I split, I don't have a date, is the thing."

"Wait, you broke up?" Harry sits up a little. Maybe this has secretly been a real crisis all along. Harry makes a point of avoiding the concept of Nick's boyfriends until he's actually faced with them, which Harry knows is probably less than healthy, but thankfully it's a pretty rare occasion that Nick dates anyone long enough that Harry has to really pay attention. He feels a bit of a rubbish friend when he thinks about it, so mostly he doesn't. Still, he thinks he usually notices when there's a break-up. "When? Why?"

"What?" Nick pauses, Harry pictures his brow wrinkling. "End of last month, I think? Usual reason."

Harry can practically hear the hand wave in his voice, so not the crisis then. "So you're, um," Harry pauses, pulls at his hair where it's tied up in a tiny bun.

"No, I'm not 'um,' I'm in a crisis but not because some almost-too-bendy yoga instructor decided he was no longer into my downward dog."

"He was a yoga instructor? Can you be too bendy?" Harry pushes down the images his mind is conjuring up, but it doesn't work well because Harry wonders how bendy Nick is.

"Harold." Nick's pout isn't as good as Harry's, but even on a transcontinental phone call, it makes Harry smile and want to give in.

"Sorry, crisis." Harry sits back again. "Wait, your crisis is that you can't get a date to a fashion award?"

"Yes," Nick says it like he's just convinced someone that a song they thought they liked is actually terrible. "Exactly."

"Nick, you can get a date."

"Oh, says Harry Styles, international sex symbol." Nick slurps at his coffee and Harry feels a light blush on his face which is ridiculous because Nick is only taking the piss and it doesn't even matter. "Not everyone has dates literally falling all over them."

"Not everyone, no, but you do." Harry knows better than he likes that this is true. "I've been out with you. You can get a date."

"One, a pull in a club isn't exactly a date and two, tell that to everyone I've pulled since Adam because none of them are up for another go."

"None of th--" Harry pauses, squinting a bit. "Wait, how many?"

Nick laughs. "Implying I'm a slag is not helping. You're a terrible crisis counselor."

"I don't think this qualifies as a crisis." Harry doesn't dwell on the fact that Nick didn't answer the question and he doesn't try to guess. He's very good at not dwelling or at least at telling himself he's not dwelling. "Just ask someone new? Or go stag - I bet a fashion award is a great place to find a fancy new model to take home."

"Actually, the only young models at these things are attached to old creeps like myself." Harry laughs. "I need a date."

There's a pause, long enough that Harry stops staring out at the freeway and shifts around, crossing one leg over his knee. "Nick, what am I missing here?"

"The Man of the Year is this bloke I used to date. Ages ago. Friend of Henry's when I first came to London." When Nick stops joking around and actually has something important to say, it always comes out all in a rush, like he thinks if he just pushes it out he can get back to being himself. Without trying, Harry can picture him leaning against his pillows, scrubbing at his fringe - flat and in his face from sleep. It makes Harry's heart clench a little. "It didn't end well and I was young and stupid enough that it mattered. A lot. Like, an embarrassing amount and, it's sad but every time I see him I still feel ridiculously insufficient. So I don't want to go alone for like, moral support, and also out of a petty desire to show him that someone likes me just fine."

Nick exhales sharply like he's been holding his breath instead of just talking. Harry literally can't imagine Nick heartbroken. Well, at least not over a boyfriend anyway. Harry feels fiercely protective of young, fresh-faced, sad Nick and he kind of thinks he hates the mystery Fashion Man of the Year.

"Okay, I get it." Harry pulls his hair out from the bun and shakes it until it falls lightly against the top of his shoulders. He really wasn't ready for a real crisis. "But everyone likes you just fine. The entire British nation chooses you as the first person they listen to in the morning." Nick laughs, a little shaky. "But since you can't bring all your listeners as your plus one, you want me to what? Help you find a date?" The thought of setting Nick up with someone brings an acrid taste to the back of Harry's throat, but he can do it if he has to.

"Open that black book of yours, yeah?" Nick's laugh's a bit more solid this time. "Nah. Honestly at this point my question is more whether you think I can sell a newfound bisexuality and just take Daize as my fake girlfriend."

Harry laughs loud enough that he catches the driver glance at him in the mirror.

"So that's a no," Nick mutters.

"Uh yeah." Harry pulls at his lower lip. "But, I mean. If that's on the table - and let me reiterate that I can't imagine how anyone stupid enough to break your heart could be worth such a rom-com plot - why not get a male friend instead of Daisy?"

"You think I didn't try?" Nick ignores Harry's sentimental interjection, as expected. "Everyone's busy. Or they refused."

Harry watches the lights of the cars coming in the opposite direction and knows he definitely shouldn't ask. But. "You didn't ask me." Now Nick laughs too hard and Harry hears a startled bark from Pig. "Hey," Harry whines.

"You're serious?" Nick waits but Harry doesn't respond. "That's absurd, innit? No one would believe that."

"Britain's finest tabloids and One Direction fans the world over would beg to differ." It's not really something Harry jokes about anymore, but now that the idea is out there, Harry wants it with a misguided recklessness, so he's pulling at straws. "Besides, it's one night. You can fake finding my average face appealing for the night."

"Haz," Nick's sipping at his coffee again. Harry pictures Nick's thinking face and decides to wait him out instead of pleading his case. Finally Nick says, "Charles never paid attention to pop culture. He thought my interests were juvenile, even when we were pretty much kids." Harry definitely hates this guy. "So he probably doesn't even know who you are."

Harry jumps on the thread of possibility. "When is it?"

"Week from Wednesday. I'm sure you're busy."

"I'm free," Harry says. He probably isn't, but that can be fixed. "Get me that suit?"

Nick laughs again and Harry thinks there's a tinge of hysteria, but it might just be him projecting. He imagines getting to pretend to be in love with Nick for a night and figures it'll be easier than pretending he isn't almost in love with Nick all the other nights.

"This is mental."

"It was your idea," Harry slumps further down, bent nearly in half, the air-conditioned leather cool against his neck. "I'll let you know when I get a flight, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay." And it's decided then and Harry feels something between nerves and excitement settle in his stomach. It's really just a night out with Nick, but then that's pretty great anyway and he hasn't seen him in months. After a few seconds, Nick says, "So, then, tell me why you're free for crisis counseling to the pathetic on a Friday night? Nothing on in LaLa Land?"

Harry settles back to talk to Nick, closing his eyes and saving the panic attack pushing at his chest for later.

**

In the end, Harry can only cancel so much and he ends up having to go directly to Nick's from Heathrow on the day of the event. Thankfully the measurements the tailor in London has on file haven't changed, so the suit fits perfectly. Nick was right - it looks great on Harry.

He gives his hair a last squeeze in his fist and exits the bathroom. Nick's wearing only his pants and a shirt hanging unbuttoned and it's not a new sight, but it's been a while, so Harry feels a little dizzy. To distract himself, he leans into the dizziness, does an exaggerated turn to show off the suit. "Measurements haven't changed since before the movie," he says as he twirls and Nick grunts out a laugh.

"Yeah, we all know you're well fit. No need to boast." When Harry stops his spin, Nick has pulled his trousers on and is buttoning the shirt.

"You should be more appreciative - after all, isn't that why I'm here?" Harry pouts his lips out more than he needs to. Not that he needs to at all, he supposes, frowning as he thinks about it.

"Not the only reason," Nick says, pausing to glance in the mirror and un-do one of the buttons he's just done up. "Also because no one else offered."

In the mirror, Harry sees Nick raise an eyebrow and Harry rolls his eyes. "Oh Grim, you say the sweetest things."

Nick doesn't bother to respond, just heads into the bath, probably to deal with his hair which could take a minute, so Harry flops across the bed next to Pig.

"Hey girl," he mumbles against her ear as he pets her. Nick's humming in the next room; Harry squints and tries to hum along. "What is that?" he calls.

"RiRi," Nick hums a little louder, the melody clearer now, then sings out "Work, work, work, work, work."

Harry nods along and stares at the ceiling. He scratches at Pig's belly and she whines happily. He hasn't been to Nick's in a while, coming home infrequently enough that it's still sometimes startling that it's not the old Primrose Hill flat. It still feels the same, comforting, every corner full of Nick and his life.

"I missed it here." He says, not sure if it's loud enough for Nick to hear, not sure if he wants him to.

He laughs though, says, "We hardly noticed you were gone. No one here to crowd the kitchen with food that isn't take away, no hair ties turning up wrapped around Pig's paw." There's a clatter of bottles. "No extra product turning my sink into a hazard area."

"Not on, mate - I used yours, so that's all that's always there."

"You used my--" Nick appears in the door. "Haz. You'll get wrinkled."

Harry glances down at his suit. Probably. He doesn't sit up, though, just smirks. "It'll just look like we shagged in the car." Harry stares straight up, fingers moving on Pig's stiff fur and emphatically does not imagine actually shagging Nick in the car. After a second of silence, Harry angles his head so he can see Nick. His eyes are closed.

Nick sighs heavily before opening his eyes again and flicking off the bathroom light. "This is a terrible idea. Worse than Aimee said."

"Hey," Harry says as Nick reaches for his hand. Harry takes it, still slightly sticky from whatever product Nick used and definitely does think about pulling Nick down on top of him. He resists the impulse to actually do it, though, careful practice at not giving in making it so he almost doesn't have to try, like muscle memory. Except, he indulges pathetically, this muscle is his heart. As he lets Nick pull him up he wonders if that's too sappy to use in a song. Probably.

"Okay." Nick doesn't move away from Harry once he's stood up. He frowns and pulls at the hem of Harry's shirt where it's slid up a bit and caught on the waistband of the suit. Harry holds his breath. "Not too late to back out, right?"

Harry stares at Nick for a second, can't fully remember the last time Nick seemed this nervous and wonders again how this fashion designer managed to tear up Nick's heart enough to leave a lasting impression. Harry leans forward and wraps Nick in a hug, trapping Nick's hand against Harry's abdomen until he slides it around to his back.

"It's not too late, but let's do it anyway," Harry's voice is quiet and Nick laughs against Harry's collarbone, which is definitely one of Harry's favorite sounds. "I mean, Nick. I'm an actor now. I can definitely do this."

As expected, Nick groans. He pulls back, but stays in the circle of Harry's arms. "You promised to stop saying 'I'm an actor now' at least nine months ago. Pix was there - she can back me up." Nick pokes a finger against Harry's spine, not quite hard enough to hurt. A second later he's frowning again. "Besides, it's not you I'm worried about."

"Come on, it's just a night out. It'll barely be different than any other night." Harry makes a face like he's considering. "I mean, slightly more groping, but only because you're sober." Nick pouts and Harry shrugs. "Just telling the truth - you're a handsy drunk. Literally everyone was there and can back me up."

Nick laughs again and swats at Harry's chest before properly pulling away. Harry presses his hand against his chest where Nick's had been.

"Definitely not planning on being sober." Nick turns on his heel. "One benefit to this - free booze."

"Then we'll be just fine." Harry laughs and follows Nick into their ridiculous plan. As always.

They fall into the car which rolls them to the party. Harry isn't going to do the photo op - he generally avoids them these days and their show is for the mysterious Charles, not the paps - so the car drops Nick before taking Harry round the back. Harry claps a hand on Nick's shoulder before he gets out and smiles. Nick rolls his eyes, but leans forward to press a quick kiss to Harry's cheek.

"Really, thanks for this." He pulls at the door handle and is gone before Harry can even say that it's not a big deal.

Which is probably good, because after what seems like a long wait, Harry finally sees Nick come in and when Harry slides in next to him, Nick pulls him close and laces their fingers together and the way the air seems to expand dangerously in Harry's lungs certainly feels like a big deal. Harry exhales slowly and composes his face, wishing the bar a few feet away was a little closer.

Henry steps up beside Nick and he shakes his head at their hand-holding. "Harry, what did this one do to convince you to be part of this scheme?"

Henry hands him a glass of champagne and Harry doesn't question why he has an extra, just takes it.

"I offered, actually." Harry takes a small sip.

"You've always been his biggest enabler." Henry smiles, looks slightly worried. "Grim, he's not worth it. He never was." He walks away and Harry can hear his loud laugh as he greets someone else a few seconds later.

"I'm fine doing this, but I'm sure Henry's right." Harry says. "For the record."

Nick doesn't respond, just releases Harry's hand to grab Harry's glass and gulp it down. Harry looks around the room and notices a few people staring at him. One of them he vaguely recognizes and after what might be an awkward few seconds of mutual staring, Harry realizes he saw him on the poster set up outside. Harry drags Nick in by the waist. He looks startled, but lets himself be pulled.

Harry leans in to whisper in his ear and the man is looking again. "That him?"

Harry can't tell if Nick looks, but his entire body tenses and he nods slightly. Harry drops a kiss on Nick's temple and his heart flutters a little even though objectively there's no reason for it. Nothing about Harry's feelings for Nick are objective though, so he shrugs it off and smiles. "Try to look at me like I'm not the grossest member of One Direction, yeah?"

Nick smiles at him, but it's small and tight. After a second, he moves away towards the bar. Harry's side feels cold without Nick there and because he can, because he's supposed to, Harry follows him and presses himself along Nick's back. Nick's still tense, but hopefully nothing a few drinks can't fix.

"Get me one too, love?" Harry says against Nick's ear and he tries not to notice that Nick seems to flinch a little or at least tries to chalk it up to Nick's ex-boyfriend driven stress and not take it personally.

The award ceremony is like any other - too early in the evening to get truly drunk but dull enough that everyone will anyway. Harry makes sure Nick has unlimited refills and in return he finally starts to relax and provide a running commentary in Harry's ear, like at any other event where they've been able to sit together. Any time Fashion Man of the Year looks their way - which is actually a bit too often in Harry's opinion - Harry makes sure to wrap his arm around Nick, or lean against him as he laughs, or push a stray hair back into place.

So not exactly like any other award ceremony.

Harry is careful not to match Nick's pace with the drinks. When he first started with what seemed like a harmless crush on Nick, Harry actually tried to get as drunk as possible when they went out, use it as an excuse to sprawl all over Nick at clubs or parties or crashed out at his flat. But the longer it's gone on, the more Harry realized that he needs to avoid doing something he, and more importantly Nick, will regret, so Harry generally stays on this side of the sober/drunk line when they're out. He still enjoys himself, enjoys the entire ruse even though he knows he shouldn't, especially when he realizes he's stopped watching for Charles and he's just playing the attentive boyfriend all the time, pressed against Nick's side like a blanket. If Nick notices, he doesn't comment.

Since Harry's nearly let himself forget the point of this whole thing, it's a surprise when he hears a cough behind him and looks up from where Nick is whispering someone's sordid secrets in Harry's ear to see the man of the hour standing over them. Harry pushes up abruptly, knocking into Nick's face lightly.

"Haz," Nick laughs before looking behind them and stopping, mouth slightly open. "Oh. Charlie, I--"

Harry presses their thighs together under the table, not so much a pretend boyfriend thing but because Nick seems like he could use a little steadying. Nick throws him an appreciative smile.

"Nick, hi." Charles frowns and then immediately smiles. The smile looks weird on his serious face. Harry cannot imagine that face and Nick together. "Thanks so much for coming."

Nick blinks twice before his face settles into an impassive press interview sort of smile. Harry squeezes his shoulder. "Well, I am a fashion ambassador. Or something."

Charles laughs and then glances at Harry.

Harry holds out the hand that isn't wrapped around Nick. "Hiya, I'm Harry. Congrats on the award."

Charles shakes his hand and smiles warmly, his face losing a few of its sharp edges. "Nice to meet you." He looks between the two of them and nods, stepping back. "Well, I just wanted to say thanks."

Nick nods as well and stands to press a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kiss against Charles's cheek. Charles looks as startled as Harry feels, but he's still smiling. "Really, Charles, congratulations. It's great to see you so successful."

"You too, Nick. Really, just." Charles steps back further as Nick sits again. Harry pushes his chair even closer to Nick and tries not to frown at Charles. Warm smiles or not, Harry has already decided he's not a fan. "Good to see you."

Charles is gone again as suddenly as he came and Nick sags a little against Harry, tipping his head down to bury his face against Harry's suit jacket. "Ugh," he says, muffled by the fabric.

Harry laughs quietly and slides his fingers into the hair at the base of Nick's neck, massaging lightly. "That was good." Nick groans, mumbles something Harry can't make out, but assumes is a protest. "Really. Are you sure you're not an actor, too?"

Nick pulls his head back just enough to glare at Harry. "Enough, you. This is stressful. It's like I'm twenty-four and covered in spots all over again."

"That's great, Grim." Nick narrows his eyes. "Finally, we're the same age. I was worried about dating someone so easily mistaken for my father, but this solves everything."

"I hate you, Harry Styles," Nick says, but he's laughing as he sits up again. "Get me more alcohol."

"A boyfriend's duties are never done." When Harry leans down to kiss Nick, his lips end up just at the corner of Nick's mouth instead of his cheek. Nick's eyes are wide and he pulls back, leaving Harry's heart pounding a little too fast. But Harry just shrugs and bends further to plant a second kiss on the opposite side. "You're lucky I'm so good at this."

"Lucky is not the word I'd use," Nick says as Harry walks away.

They have a few more drinks over the next hour or so, mingling with people Nick knows and Harry vaguely recognizes. It's probably too many on top of what Nick's already had because eventually he's slurring a little and yawning. He does have to be up for radio, so when they're leaning against a wall after saying goodbye to a model whose name Harry's already forgotten and Harry realizes they're conveniently close to the exit, he pulls at Nick's quiff and says, "We should go."

Nick pouts, but he's standing up straight and moving. "You think we were a hit? Made me seem fully desirable and loved up?"

Harry stares at Nick's lips as he talks, sure Nick's too drunk to notice, and nods. "I think so, yeah."

Nick falls against him, half a hug and half an unspoken request for help getting out of there. "Have I ever told you that you are a wonderful actor and a very great friend, Harry Styles?"

"Nah," Harry laughs and drags Nick outside. "Usually you just tell me I'm a spoiled popstar with a terrible sense of humor."

Nick shakes his head. "That doesn't sound right at all. You." Nick stops as they look around for the waiting car. Once they're settled in the backseat, Nick focuses on Harry again. "Don't tell anyone, Haz, because it's a secret, but I think you are lovely."

Harry leans back. "Not a secret, Nick. Everyone knows." Harry looks over and Nick is curled up in the seat as much as he can with the seatbelt on. He looks absurdly adorable. "You talked about me too much and now everyone knows."

Nick is pouting again and because one of them is drunk even if it's not Harry, Harry reaches out and pokes at Nick's bottom lip with his finger. Nick makes to bite at it, grazing the tip lightly and Harry lets it linger a beat too long. Nick doesn't pull away, though, just sits still in the dark car, the lights of the street flickering as they drive. Harry's stomach rolls as he realizes this is all over and he needs to go back to normal, stop playacting. He runs his finger over Nick's lip and then pulls back, tucking his hands between his knees. Nick inhales a loud breath and then laughs, dropping his head against the seat.

Harry takes careful slow breaths and by the time they reach Nick's flat, he's feeling steady enough to help Nick out of the car and into bed without losing track of himself again. He puts a glass of water on Nick's nightstand and makes sure his phone is plugged in before turning out the lights and collapsing into bed. This new flat actually has a guest room, but it's constantly being redecorated and there's no bed in it at the moment, so it's just like old times. Nick sniffs in his sleep and kicks his legs over towards Harry, one foot pressing against Harry's calf. Harry lies there in the darkness trying to make out the features of Nick's sleeping face until he falls asleep too, hand reaching part way across the bed and stopping just shy of touching Nick.

**

The morning after the ceremony, Harry woke up with Pig and Nick's voice on the radio. He wanted to wait around, spend the day lounging on Nick's sofa until he got home, but he promised to go to Holmes Chapel for a few days. He's still there and sitting at his mum's table on Sunday morning watching her wash the dishes, when Nick calls with yet another crisis.

"I can't bloody believe, him. I promise I didn't know he would do this."

Harry frowns. "Nick, what are you talking about?" Harry hears a soft murmur from Anne and looks over at her, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"Charles," Nick says and Harry sighs. He still hates this guy. "He gave an interview - Guardian Style or sommat- and he told them about the event."

Harry doesn't know if it's because it's still kind of early or if Nick just isn't making sense. "Yeah, I mean, he's Man of the Year, I'd assume it would come up."

"No, Harry - he told them about us at the event." Nick pauses, his breath a little fast against the phone and Harry wonders if he's just that upset or if he's walking around. "Like, ugh, wait." There's a rustle against the line and Anne holds up a mug, head tipped in question. Harry nods. This seems like it's going to call for a brew.

"Okay, here." Nick puts on his reading-from-Heat-voice. "'I dated him, you know - Nick Grimshaw,' the designer says. I didn't know, actually, so I ask him about it. 'A lifetime ago, really, but he was lovely and I was,' Simmons looks down at the ground, slightly lost in a memory perhaps. 'Well, I was young and stupid," Nick drops the voice to scoff, but picks back up again before Harry can comment. "'But everything works out as it's meant to and Nick has that lovely young actor or popstar - I don't know really, I'm terrible with all the famous people, but they came to my ceremony and they were darling together.' After the interview, I confirmed that Grimshaw attended the event with popstar and actor Harry Styles."

Harry blinks a few times. That's not ideal, but it's not even close to the worst rumor he's heard about him and Nick. "Nick, it's not that bad."

"Well, it's a real paper. Next it'll be the tabloids and it'll be weeks of new speculation and this was not supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to know you." The papers rustle louder and Harry knows Nick is crunching it in his fist.

"To be fair, it doesn't sound like he did, really." Harry takes the mug his mum gives him and answers her questioning look with a roll of his eyes.

Nick ignores him. "I'll tell my publicist to deny it, say Charles got the wrong impression, we just went as friends, the usual."

Harry frowns into his tea, waiting for it to steep. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose? You wanted Charles to get the wrong impression, so why would we deny it?"

"We both know what I wanted was stupid anyway and I don't want you to have to deal with the rumors." Nick's breathing has settled a little. Harry wonders where he is, imagines him walking home from the newsstand with a paper and settling on his couch to call Harry. "I'm sorry."

"Nick, I don't care. I've never cared." That's not strictly true, of course, but Harry doesn't care for himself, just for everyone else who seems to get hurt when these rumors get out of hand. "Let's just say nothing and let it blow over." Harry thinks for a second. "I'm not even doing press again until we start up for the album, so there's no interviews where it'll come up. Just don't talk about it on radio."

Nick lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. "Wait, what album?"

Harry rolls his eyes again. "The new one. With the band. Like I told you about last week and on the phone and at least fifteen other times."

"But you broke up." Nick's voice is teasing, so Harry thinks he's calmed him down at least a bit.

"Hiatus." Across the kitchen Anne laughs. "Nick, no comment, yeah?"

Definite sigh this time, but the put-upon one that Harry knows means Nick will do what Harry wants. "When you're getting angry tweets, don't forget I offered to deny it."

"I don't read my tweets." They both know that Nick is the one who'll get the angry tweets, but Nick doesn't seem to be bothered for himself. "I've got to go." Harry stands up and moves to discard the tea bag and head upstairs. Gemma's coming for the day and he needs to take a shower.

"Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. Bye," Nick says before ringing off.

Harry isn't going to change his mind because he really does think it would be stupid to ruin the impression they apparently actually had on Charles just to stop a rumor that'll probably blow over in a day or so. Except it must be a slow news week, because three days later when he stops in town to get petrol and some water before heading back to London, it's still all over the tabloids- Exclusive: DJ's Ex-Boyfriend Tells All About Affair with Harry Styles. The pictures aren't very recent and the "tell all" is just the quotes Nick had read plus a few "sources" commenting that Nick and Harry had indeed been very together at the event. Which they had, but no one was supposed to be talking about it. Harry sighs and settles his sunglasses back on his nose as he pulls out of the service station.

His phone buzzes. He doesn't look because he's driving, but he's sure it's Nick. He's been texting constantly, offering to put out a statement, apologizing, making half-hearted jokes about internet death threats that make Harry feel nauseated. Harry's not been ignoring Nick, really, but he's been doing the bare minimum of responding he can get away with, using his time with Anne and Robin as an excuse, assuring Nick he's not bothered. And he's not lying, he really isn't bothered. In fact, the most worrying thing is how much Harry isn't just not bothered, but actually kind of likes being linked with Nick in the press. He shouldn't, because it's invasive and he hates all the speculation and because he's sure it's pretty awful for Nick, but. The truth is, Harry would be happy to be with Nick, so the only thing that really upsets him is how completely not real it all is.

The phone rings then and Harry uses the Bluetooth to answer.

"H," Jeff's voice fills the car. "You go on vacation and we're stuck working overtime?" Harry can hear the smirk. "Seems unfair."

"No rest for the wicked." Harry merges onto the M40. "I didn't plan it."

"Well, you kind of did." They both laugh and then there's a pause. "Really, though, how are you?"

Harry shrugs even though no one can see him. "Fine, Jeff. You know I don't care about rumors."

"Not about that." Harry looks out at the grey sky and thinks about the perfect blue of L.A. "Grimshaw's team calls here at least once a day, wanting to know if we want them to make a statement, clear things up."

"Oh." Harry chews at his lip, grabs for his water and swallows some down. "Yeah, he's anxious. He feels bad, I think. Or maybe he's getting a lot of shit and just wants it to go away." Jeff hums in understanding. "If it's that, then yeah, we should deny it I guess. If he's just worried, I'll convince him to let it go. Sorry if he's bugging you."

"It's fine. Karen has a statement drafted if you need it, otherwise she remains excellent at 'no comment,' so no worries either way." Jeff pauses.

Harry doesn't want to ask, but he's a grown up with a career, so he does. "Does she think we need to comment? Or like, has the label called?" Harry knows things are a little different with the band back in the picture than they have been for the last two years.

"Eh. Karen hasn't said anything and she wouldn't keep quiet if she has an opinion. The label called just to ask what we were doing, but seem fine with status quo." Jeff laughs. "I got the impression they were used to this exact scenario."

Harry scoffs. "Fair." He drinks more water and debates whether to bring up something that came to him late last night when he was reading some article wondering if Harry would finally join Nick "out of the closet." He sets the half-empty bottle back in the cup holder.

"Hey, Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that plan we came up with last winter?" Harry had finished doing movie press and it was different - just him, no one else to deflect, and a political climate in the states where he felt more like he was lying when he evaded questions about relationships and tried to be sure no one asked him anything he couldn't answer honestly.

"Sure." Jeff pauses. "But, we said only if you're in a relationship. I get that it sucks, but even if you didn't have to think about Louis, Karen's team is sure about it - it doesn't make sense to go through all the coming out interviews and questions just so you can get caught sucking random cock in public." They both laugh because that's Karen's phrasing, not Jeff's - she's very blunt. Harry had made it clear he didn't intend for that to happen in any case. "And like, these are rumors, right? You're not-"

"No. You know I'm not. I would have told you." Harry moves to pass the red car in front of him. "Also, you know I wouldn't, not with him - it's too." Harry waves one hand around the steering wheel. Nick has always been the one thing that Harry wants that he hasn't tried to get. He can't risk his friendship, is the easy reason and the one Jeff lets him use. "You know."

"Okay, yeah. So what are you getting at?"

Harry coughs. He knows this is a terrible idea. But he can't help thinking it could work. "I was just thinking that, this all started because we went on this fake date, and it was shockingly successful at what we wanted it to do - convince this asshole ex. So, what if we just." Harry frowns, wondering how it's going to sound outside his head. "Kept pretending, like? And I can come out - do the press now, before we ramp up for the album." Jeff hasn't said anything. "Then it's over and done with, everyone gets some press, I get what I want and I don't have to wait until I'm in an actual relationship because we all know that could be ages."

"You get what you want?"

Harry sighs. "I get to come out. Nothing else. We fake this for a little bit, which is easy because people think we're together anyway, and then we fake a break-up and everything's done. The One Direction 'reunion' overshadows everything and we all move on." It doesn't sound great outside his head, he admits, but since the idea came to him, he hasn't been able to let go of it. He hasn't really spent too much time investigating why.

There's another voice on the other end, Jeff's assistant probably, and Jeff says something away from the phone before coming back. "Isn't the point of coming out because you're sick of lying by omission?" This is a business discussion, but Jeff's using his friend voice. "Is full-on lying to get to that really how you want to do it?"

Harry focuses on driving, slight stops and starts as he hits heavier traffic - an accident ahead, maybe. Jeff isn't wrong, but Harry thinks about three months of being able to make time to hang out with Nick, three months of their easy friendship in person like it hasn't been in a long time and his shoulders relax immediately. And then after that, something else he wants, not having to worry about slipping up in an interview, not trying to step carefully around pronouns, not feeling like he's contributing to some oppressive culture. Able to just date whoever, even if he knows deep down that until he sorts the Nick thing none of them will be that serious. Which is actually part of his reasoning - like he said, waiting for a relationship with someone else could be a long time and also he wonders if maybe intense exposure to Nick like this will help him move past whatever this is.

Harry isn't sure how to explain any of this to Jeff, though, so he finally just says, "It feels more honest than it sounds."

Jeff huffs a sharp breath against the phone. "Oh. Of course." He laughs, but only for a second. "You're the boss. Karen can do it, I'm sure. The only change will be working on a break-up, but I'm sure that'll be cake for her. With her clients, she's probably done it before. But Harry." Harry pulls at his hair because he already knows what Jeff's going to say. "Will Nick do it?"

Harry sighs. Because that's the question, really. "Guess we'll find out."

**

It's two more days of crossed schedules before Harry finally just shows up at Nick's while he's out and settles down in the lounge to work until he gets home. Pig is curled up between his feet and the sofa when Nick comes in and stops short.

"Harold," Nick closes the distance between them and flops against Harry in a loose-limbed hug. Pig nuzzles at Harry's ankles, lazily trying to reach Nick without fully moving her body. "I'm so tired."

Harry catches his laptop with one hand so it doesn't fall and wraps his other arm around Nick's shoulders, rubs at the soft thin fabric of the jumper he's wearing. "Did you sleep?"

Nick butts his head against Harry's upper arm. "Yes, I slept, but I have to be at work at six in the morning and then I had to go to some luncheon for some charity I've honestly forgotten." Harry tips his chin to his chest so he can see Nick's face better. "Which makes me sound like a complete arse, but it's true."

Harry shrugs, feels Nick move with it a little. "It happens." Harry bites his lip. "One time I was at something Louis organized, auction or something and I thought the whole time it was for sick kids, but it was actually football related and the kids were poor not sick. There was a little film of all the kids spending a day on the Donnie pitch and I looked like a right idiot when I told him it was ace that all these kids could play footie even with cancer or sommat."

Nick chuckles and then tips his face against Harry's shoulder and does something with his mouth- maybe a sigh, maybe a yawn, but whatever it is, it presses warm, damp breath against Harry's skin. Harry takes a deep breath and tries not to feel it in his dick as Nick's lips raise goose flesh on his arm. Next to him Nick stiffens, so Harry maybe isn't doing the best at covering up his reactions, but it has been a long weird week so he tries not to freak out about it and pull away, tries to sit and act natural. After another second, Nick sits up, confused look on his face as he pulls back on the sofa and makes a bit of a mess of trying to slide backward and arrange his legs on the opposite end from Harry.

"Wait, did I know you were going to be here?" Nick asks and rolls his eyes at Harry's pout. "You're always welcome but I thought you'd be back to L.A. after home."

Harry's been trying to propose his absurd idea to Nick for three days but now that he's actually here to do it, he's suddenly not sure. He lifts his laptop and moves it to the coffee table on top of an art book. "No." Harry bends down to scratch his hands through Pig's fur. "Actually, I might be here for a bit."

"You know it's about 7 outside and 23 in your beloved paradise?" Nick pulls at the strings around a hole in the knee of his jeans. Harry channels the urge to put his fingers over the exposed skin into rolling Pig over and rubbing her belly.

"I mean, I could have guessed." Harry doesn't know why Nick knows the temperature in California.

A ragged edge of Harry's nail catches against Pig's skin and she rolls away, glaring at him in reproach. Or, Harry doesn't really know if dogs glare, but she looks angry somehow and Harry's lost his distraction. Nick laughs and Harry settles back and turns to look at him full on for the first time since he got here. His hair is a little stringy against his forehead - too much product or time for a shampoo, maybe - and he does look tired, but in that way that just makes all his features look sharper, his eyes brighter. Harry feels like he's going to be sick and it's not too late to just call this off, wait like Karen wants, but Harry can't imagine being in a relationship with someone for real.

"I actually wanted to ask you something."

Nick's eyebrows pop up and he nods, then narrows his eyes. "Is this about the whole," he pulls hard at one of the threads and it rips. "Charles thing?"

Harry shrugs, figures he may as well start there. "Jeff said your people keep calling him." Nick twists the loose thread between his fingers and if Harry weren't staring at Nick he might miss the nod. "You know he has real work to do, right?"

Nick scoffs. "Am I distracting him from important calls about Meaghan Trainor's next amazing single?" Harry swats at Nick's ankle. "Soz." He pulls at the thread for a little longer. "About pestering Jeff, too. I just want to be sure it's all fine."

"Nick it is all fine. No one cares, Jeff would tell me if we had to care and he hasn't." The next question is the one Harry doesn't really want to talk about. "Has it, uh. For you, then, has it been awful? Do you want us to say something?"

"Awful?" Harry waves at his computer, holds up his phone. Nick shrugs. "It's died down." Which isn't really an answer, so Harry assumes it was awful. Nick laughs a little. "I keep meaning to ask Liv and Jane if teen girls have always been this good at death threats or if it's the modern age." Nick looks up at Harry, grinning. Harry just stares back. Even as a joke, the phrase 'death threats' is not making the nausea he's feeling go away. "Haz, I'm kidding. It's fine. I just." Nick looks back at his lap. "Just want to be sure we're not ruining you."

Harry watches as Nick stretches the string between his hands, folds it in a little like he's making the world's tiniest jump rope. Maybe Nick really doesn't care, maybe he's just sincerely worried about Harry. The idea makes Harry feel stupidly giddy, like he's a girl in the audience at one of his own concerts.

"So that's all then? You came all the way over to ambush me just to ask me to stop annoying your best mate at work?" Nick's smiling and looking up, but he's not quite meeting Harry's eyes and it feels deliberate. "Consider it done."

Harry shifts in his seat, thinks again about just leaving it at that. "No, it's something else."

Nick keeps smiling, keeps turning the thread in his fingers and waits, used to the speed of conversation with Harry. At moments like this, Harry wishes he were better at taking a page from Nick's book and just pushing through it quickly rather than taking so long to work through turning his thoughts into words. He leans back against the sofa arm and tracks Pig's movements as she comes back into the room and lies down in her bed.

"The whole thing, pretending for Charles and then the gossip, it got me thinking about something. Something I've been thinking about for a while, actually." Harry looks back at Nick, who turns his head away, his turn to look over at Pig. "Well, I guess we've never talked about it." Harry narrows his eyes, trying to remember if he told Nick about the plan or any of what he felt when he was doing all that press. Nick looks back at him while Harry's thinking, eyes drawn in concern and his lips a tight line.

"I know you love to draw a thought out to it's longest possible end, but this is sounding dire, Harold." Nick's small laugh sounds forced.

"Oh, no. It's not." Harry puts a palm on Nick's calf, wrapping his hand almost all the way around. He shakes his head. "I'm being stupid. Okay, so, like I said, we may not have talked about it, but when I was doing the movie press all by myself, it felt way more invasive."

Nick nods. "No one to deflect."

"Right. Liam said it was the same for him with his album. Or mix tape. Technically." Harry is still not exactly sure what the difference is, but he figures Nick knows because he's nodding. Or maybe he's just still trying to get Harry to hurry up. "Right, so. It just made me think more about the answers and what felt like keeping things private versus what felt like lying about stuff." Harry tries to convey the significance of 'stuff' to Nick with his eyes. "So I talked with Jeff and everyone about coming out."

"Oh." Nick's eyes go comically wide.

Harry smiles even though he feels like running to Nick's bathroom to vom. "Oh." He looks up at the ceiling for a second and takes a deep breath. "But Karen looked at all the research and past cases and, I don't know, a Ouija board or whatever else publicists use to figure these things out, and she said that it wouldn't be that bad, except that we shouldn't do it just to do it, but wait until I was dating someone, use that to push it out. Also, to make sure it doesn't fire up the whole Louis thing." That's probably the only real reason Harry really agreed with Karen, but he doesn't try to explain further, just shrugs.

Nick sits up straight, finally dropping the thread. Harry watches it fall to rest on the edge of the sofa, black squiggle sharp against the white fabric. "Are you, then? Dating someone? That's gr-" Nick draws his knees in to his chest, Harry's hand left behind to rest on the sofa like the thread. "Harry, I wouldn't have let you do the Charles thing if I knew you had a boyf-" He pauses again. "Are they upset?"

Harry shakes his head, laughs too loudly at the idea of having a boyfriend. "No, that's the thing - I don't have a boyfriend. You know I don't really ever do that. With girls either." Nick exhales sharply and then coughs. Harry pauses, but Nick nods at him to keep going. "But I have to start doing press again and it's with the lads so that'll be better, but now that I have this in my head, it just makes waiting for the relationship questions, the questions about girls. It makes it worse. So I want to just do it, but even Jeff thinks Karen's plan makes sense." Harry watches Nick carefully as he continues. "But the thing with Charles, it got me thinking, maybe. Maybe I could do it their way even without exactly having a boyfriend."

Harry sees the exact moment Nick works it out, he blinks quickly like there's something in his eye and his mouth actually drops open a little like he's some kind of cartoon character. "Harry Styles, no" Harry smirks a little, shrugs. "That is proper insane. You're past the point in your career where you have a Britney-style breakdown. That's not what this is, right?"

Harry laughs. "My hair's just grown back, I'm not about to shave it."

"So like, you want to go with this? With the story and the rumors? Use them to launch your big entree into gay society?" Harry nods and Nick sits back, reaches out and pokes at Harry's thigh with his socked toes. "You want me to pretend to date you so you can come out?"

"Yeah." Harry reaches up and pushes his hair back and then forward. "I know it's ridiculous, like, but the story's already out there. It'd be easy to confirm it, use that in whatever plan Karen has just like we would a real relationship." Nick's frowning, so Harry pushes forward with more reasons. "And the timing is great because it's just before tour, so that will limit the news cycle on this, we can break up while I'm gone and then everything will be back to normal when I get back. But better. Easier."

Nick chews at his lip. "Right, break up. How's that go, then?" Harry shrugs and Nick rolls his eyes, but it's not as though either of them is great with details. "Suppose we leave that to the publicity people." He levels Harry with a considering look and Harry feels like he's back in those first meetings with Simon. "Did you already go over this new plan with them?"

"Uh, yeah." Nick frowns again. "I know, I should have asked you first, but I had to make sure it made sense. And then you've been busy."

"So you already have the details? Just need me to say yes." Harry can't tell if Nick's angry, but he nods anyway. "Well, lay it out."

"Um. I'd have to stay here. Like, in London, which works because everyone wants to have rehearsals and final recording here anyway. But, like." Harry looks around. "Here here, in your flat, would be best. We'd go out, but mostly just like we do."

"We don't go- I mean, you barely live here," Nick says and it sort of sounds like he might be angry.

"Right, right. I know. I mean, like we used to?" Harry shrugs. "Like we would if I were here more." Harry searches Nick's face, tries to figure out what could convince him. "Karen will confirm rumors, I'll do whatever press she has lined up. That's it, really."

"That's it." Nick's face is blank and Harry doesn't know what that means. Usually he knows what Nick's answer will be to most questions, but he supposes this one's a bit extraordinary. "Harry, it's different than one night. It's-"

Harry nods, sits up and leans towards Nick. "No, I know. It's a lot to ask and you can say no, Nick. I get it. I just really want to do this and who knows when I'll actually be in a relationship that Karen deems significant enough for this. So when the Charles thing happened. I just thought." Harry flicks the arch of Nick's foot with his index finger and laughs a little. "If I'm honest, I also thought it'd be fun to hang out with you. It was fun, that boring fashion do. I miss that."

Nick's face falls, just for a second, and he looks a little sad, but he's smiling. The blank expression is back before Harry can figure out if that means he's about to agree or to tell Harry to sod off. It's quiet for a while, just the occasional sound of Pig snoring until Harry sighs and flicks Nick's foot again.

"Never mind, it's a rubbish idea. Forget about it."

Nick lifts his foot and traps Harry's hand under it. "You're going to owe me so big. Major."

Harry blinks. "Wait, yeah?" Nick shrugs and shakes his head, but then nods. "Major," Harry agrees. "Anything you want."

"I'll start a list. All the things you have to do." Nick's toes press down against Harry's hand. "Fake boyfriend taxes."

Harry pulls himself up enough to launch himself on top of Nick in a hug. "Consider them paid." Nick laughs and squirms under him. Harry's stomach flips, but more with excitement than dread. "I can't believe you're agreeing to this. This is proper insane, you know."

"So I've heard." Nick pushes Harry, tries to dislodge him onto the floor, but Harry clings tightly. "Oi, Haz. Off. First tax, get off me and order us some takeaway for tea. Then I can eat and you can ring your manager and tell him to stop throwing darts at Simon Cowell's face so he can get all your people to focus on the critical issue of our fake love life."

"Hey," Harry says. Jeff and Simon have a perfectly cordial relationship. As long as no one's talking about money. But Harry slides off Nick and lands on his knees on the floor. He doesn't let his mind focus on their relative positions while he's down there, just stands up and reaches for his phone. "What do you want to eat then?"

Nick lifts a sofa cushion and rests it on his lap, tapping out a beat lightly as he thinks. After a second he shrugs. "'M not bothered."

When Nick says he's not bothered about making a choice what it means is that he would like a list of suggestions he can reject in order to decide what he wants. When he actually doesn't care, he tells Harry to pick. But it's fine because Harry actually isn't bothered, so he just opens his phone and scrolls. "Thai?"

"Hmm... I had that with Collette last night."

"Curry?"

Nick presses a hand to his stomach and Harry grins. "Too much spice."

He's pretty sure they're going to end up getting sushi, so he pulls up the usual place as he says, "I could go to that sandwich place over by mine and bring it back. I need to get clothes for tomorrow anyway." Nick doesn't say anything so Harry looks up. Nick is staring down at the cushion on his lap, biting his lip. "Nick? Sandwiches?"

Nick looks up again, smiling and nods. "Sure, yeah, brilliant." Harry looks back down at his phone and frowns at the sushi order he's already started. "Love a sandwich, me."

Harry thumbs his phone off and puts it in his pocket. "It's okay if I stay here, yeah?"

Nick nods. "Always."

Harry's about to turn to leave but he hesitates. "Nick, you're sure? I won't mind if you don't want to."

There's a pause and Pig's loud yawn makes Harry jump a little.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Nick slaps the cushion definitively. "My turn to return the favor, right? Plus, you're paying for dinner. Tax."

Harry laughs and drops a quick kiss to the top of Nick's hair. It smells like citrus and lingering cigarette smoke. He tells himself he's imagining that Nick seems to pull his head back instinctively when Harry's lips touch it. "Okay. I'll be back soon with your paid-for dinner."

"Get crisps," Nick calls just as the door is shutting behind Harry and he laughs and heads to his car.

There's a paparazzo smoking just down the block and across the street and Harry moves to hide his face behind his hair, for all the good that would do, but then remembers that Nick agreed. So instead he looks straight at the camera before climbing into the car and waves at him as he drives past.

**

The first thing, which Harry refuses to call Phase One no matter how many times Jeff and Nick suggest it, is a series of fake dates, something to fuel the rumors before they confirm them. Paps will be tipped off, sources will leak small bits of information to Karen's favorite reporters, hopefully speculation will continue.

"So it'll feel like 2012 all over again, except on purpose this time?" Nick asks as he flips through his calendar, looking for events they can attend together.

Harry laughs and rolls a ball across the floor for Pig. She chases after it, but comes back without it. "Doesn't she know that she has to bring the ball back if she wants me to throw it again?" Nick doesn't answer, so Harry turns to address the dog. "Pig, that's the whole point of fetch. Go get it." Pig just stares up at him hopefully, tail wagging until Harry sighs and goes after the ball himself.

When he comes back, Nick's laughing down at his phone and Harry comes up behind him. "What's funny?" On the screen there's a video of Harry's conversation with Pig ending with him heading to get the ball. "Is that on the internet?"

Nick looks up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. "Harry, a snap is better proof that we might be dating than any fake date would be. I mean, you're the most socia media elusive star in the world, turning up once a blue moon with an arty photos or a random song lyric. Being in someone's snapchat story is a huge step for you."

Harry glares at him and takes his seat again, tossing the ball again. "There's no way that's true. How many people even watch those things?" Nick stares at him like Harry's simple and Harry shrugs. "Okay, fine. Snap away. Make me the star of your social media. I'm sure there was something in Karen's notes about that, actually."

"Did you actually read them? This is meant to be your plan." Nick's back to his phone, though, so he doesn't seem to expect an answer. After a few more seconds he says, "What about this event for Alexa's app? Or there's a gallery opening I was going to with Daisy on Friday?"

Harry considers, biting his lip. When he looks over at Nick, Nick's staring at him and he turns away quickly, back to his phone. "Are those really dates? They're just your mates' things."

"They're events, in public, where we can looked loved up for some paps - does it really matter if they meet some arbitrary standard for what's a date?" Harry pouts a little and Nick rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, I don't even date, Harry. I have no idea what you think we should be doing. Is there a yacht we can vacation on somewhere?"

Harry glares at Nick, but there's no heat behind it. It's not as though he really dates, either, he gets Nick's point. It's too hard, easier to just go away for the weekend or stay at home or just go out with big groups of friends. But for reasons he's not working too hard to figure out, Harry feels like this should be different.

"I don't know, what about a concert? Not like, Rita's show or someone all our friends will be at. But dinner and a concert, that's a proper date, right?"

Nick tips his head back and forth a bit as he thinks about it and then goes back to his phone. He scrolls through a bit, taps some things out, and then stands up. "Okay, we're all set for James Bay tonight. You like him, yeah?"

So first it's the concert, and then they do end up going to the gallery although Daisy doesn't join them. Paps outside of both and at the restaurants they go to before, the bar they stop at for a drink with one of the artists after. The artist seems a bit overwhelmed, but they buy one of her pieces the next day so she's probably okay with it. They follow those up with a premiere for Tom Hardy's new film, walking the carpet together and trying to strike a fine line between probably together, but not obviously so. Harry reminds Tom that he owes him a Scrabble rematch and there are photos of all three of them on all the tabloid sites the next day.

That afternoon Harry has a call with Karen.

"So far the reaction seems mostly positive," she says. "We can go ahead and actually do this. If you're still sure?"

Harry scrolls through his twitter feed, finds two photos Nick has posted of Harry cooking in Nick's kitchen, hair twisted into a bun and oven mitts over his hands. After the premiere they didn't feel like going out, so Harry had made them cheese toasties at half-eleven even though Nick was sure eating cheese that late would automatically cause him to gain three pounds. Harry laughs at the photos.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, distracted." Harry glances at the photos again before thumbing the phone off speaker and putting it to his ear. "I'm sure, let's go ahead."

Harry rings off and sets the phone down on the counter.

"My fake dates were good enough, then?" Nick's voice behind him and Harry turns to see him leaning against the door. "Wooed the pop star, did I?"

Harry laughs and taps his phone. "Fully wooed. Very impressive."

Nick rolls his eyes, but he's smiling and Harry feels content as he turns back to the kettle he left half-filled when Karen called.

**

Karen arranges everything, says a relatively casual mention in a British television interview makes the most sense with some print in the States to follow. Harry likes that it's low key, tries to focus on the week of settling into Nick's flat and letting himself get papped walking Pig around Hackney and picking Nick up after the radio, but the morning of the taping, his stomach is tight and he only manages a few sips of his smoothie. He listens to the last hour of Nick's show and calls Lou to do something with his hair more for the reassurance of being around her than for any concern about the state of it. He steals a shirt from Nick's closet that he remembers taking on tour years ago when the idea of jetting across the world and singing for arenas full of people still made him queasy. The shirt's designer, but there are tiny holes along the seams and it's missing two buttons. Harry's surprised it hasn't been given away in a closet purge or when Nick moved house, but he's glad of it.

When Nick gets back and sees the shirt, he smiles and plucks at the fabric over Harry's chest. "This is your telly outfit? It's ancient."

"I told him there's buttons missing," Lou says as she comes in from letting Pig in from the garden, Lux chasing the dog across the room and shouting "Pig, Pig, Piggy!" over and over.

Harry shrugs. "Like it." He watches as Nick's fingers skate down the shirt and twist the open front.

"Guess you don't need the buttons, anyway." His fingers are slightly cold when they brush Harry's skin and Harry's laugh catches in his throat. Nick's eyes widen and his hand falls to his side. He coughs. "You look great, Harold."

Harry watches Nick move away and then glances over at Lou who isn't quick enough to replace the worry in her face with a smile. "The show'll be fine, Lou."

Lou raises her eyebrow and shoots a glance at where Nick has joined Lux in her pursuit of the dog. "Yeah, love, that's not my worry." She pauses and then smiles again, apologetically. "No, no. You're right. Let's focus. You've got this, love. Lux, come give Uncle Harry a good luck hug before we go."

Lux launches herself into Harry and everyone laughs. He clutches her close and carefully avoids looking at Nick, figuring he can only focus on one thing that makes his stomach twist and flutter at a time. Thankfully, the flat is full of assistants and then his mum and Gemma are there and everyone is packed into cars to head over to the taping.

Alan is great, as always, and he walks the perfect line of making fun of Harry, making lewd comments about Nick, and being sincerely supportive of Harry's explanation that he doesn't want people to think he's been lying to them but working to preserve his privacy has been a challenge and he wasn't fully sure about labels. Alan offers Harry another drink and launches into a string of jokes about his own dating life before remembering the technical excuse for this interview and plugging the BluRay release of Dunkirk. By the time the interview's over, Harry has almost convinced himself he was ridiculous for ever being nervous in the first place.

His family stays in the city to have dinner together, enjoying the last moments of peace before the show airs and then Harry lets himself collapse against Nick's side in the back of the car. "So that's sorted."

Nick laughs and presses his long fingers into Harry's neck, rubbing a bit too hard at the tension there until Harry sighs and relaxes his shoulders a bit. "Well sorted, I'd say."

Harry closes his eyes and breathes in and out, slowly and carefully, feeling the car moving under him and the soft rise and fall of Nick's chest. After a few minutes, he laughs lightly and mutters, "It's not even like I did something, you know?" There's no response and Harry opens his eyes and tips his head back to look at Nick, who's staring down at him, eyes fond and lips pursed. "It's just such a small thing."

After another second Nick's lips settle into a frown and he leans down to press a kiss against Harry's curls. "It feels that way. And it is, kind of." He presses into Harry's neck again. "But I'm proud of you."

As the news breaks across the tabloids and social media, as every morning show does a piece stringing together every person Harry's ever been linked with along with clips from Alan's show and quotes from his Vogue interview (leaked somehow in advance of publication, as planned), as Harry turns his phone off and hides it in a drawer for two days, it's that moment in the car with Nick that Harry holds onto. He avoids most of the press, a skill he learned ages ago, until Karen's team sends a file of clips to his email. He hovers over the touchpad for a few seconds before closing the laptop and turning his phone back on. Ten minutes of logistics and he's in the car, past the paparazzi and on his way to the Beeb, Nick bantering with Fiona on the car stereo.

Harry can't decide if the buzz that sweeps behind him as he makes his way to the studio is different than usual, but he keeps his eyes straight ahead and smiles and waves at faces he recognizes. He sees Ian down the hallway and tries to wave him over, but he just frowns and turns back into the door he was coming out of. Harry blinks, surprised, but then Clara is pulling him into the Live Lounge.

"Harry Styles, you all right?"

Harry nods and leans to drop a quick kiss on Clara's cheek. "Ya. You?"

Clara nods. "About to head in. Coming?" She winks. "Camera's off."

Harry shrugs. "Doesn't really matter, now, does it?"

He follows her in and sticks his tongue out at Nick when his eyes widen and he misses a cue from Producer Vic when Harry enters. Harry feels momentarily guilty for interrupting Nick at work, but then Nick flips him off and waves him away and Harry settles in to listen to Nick finish up the show and hand off to Clara. When the new Bastille starts up, Fiona rushes over to give Harry a big hug.

"Congratulations, Harry." She pulls back and tips her head to the side. "Is that the right thing to say?"

"Think it's like a bride, FiFi - you say congrats to me, best wishes to the one dating me." Nick comes across the room and they all walk out of the studio and into the break room laughing.

"Sounds about right," Fiona says.

"I know what you mean, Fiona. Thanks." Harry watches Nick make a cup of coffee and adjusts the bag holding his laptop. "Good show?"

Nick shrugs. "You're not the lead on the entertainment news anymore, Styles." He sips his coffee and pulls at his hair. "Are you hear to lodge a complaint?"

"Lunch?" Harry taps his bag. "Karen sent over a press file. I should at least skim, them, right?" He brought the laptop, but Harry's mostly hoping that Nick dismisses the idea out of hand and tells him to ignore it all.

Nick watches Harry for a second and then sets his mug on the counter and juts his chin at the bag. "Give it here." Nick takes the laptop and glances around the room, pointing to a sofa tucked in a corner. "Fancy a quizzie?"

"Instead of a meeting?" Fiona glances around, but Vic is nowhere to be seen. She nods and Harry follows them both to the sofa and sits carefully on the edge, leaning forward to enter his password when Nick pushes the computer at him.

Nick flicks through Harry's email and pulls up the file, frowning at something before handing the computer to Fiona and settling into the corner of the sofa. "Fiona, you go through the clips, tell us which prestigious media outlet you've got and we will guess their reaction to Harry's big announcement." He pokes Harry's lower back and Harry jumps a little. "If Harry gets more right, he gets to take something off our list." Harry leans back and raises an eyebrow. "If I win, Harry pays for lunch."

Harry was definitely going to pay for lunch anyway, paying for all meals is an already defined fake-boyfriend tax, but he figures that's not the point, so he nods his agreement and presses back into the sofa to play, trapping Nick's hand behind his back.

"Okay. GQ." Fiona's eyes move quickly across the screen before she looks back up. "Nick?"

Nick scoffs. "There's not a man at that magazine who wasn't already gay for Harry Styles. They're thrilled."

Harry rolls his eyes, but he nods. "Yeah, positive."

Fiona laughs and reads aloud, "Coming out as bisexual in no way undermines Styles's reputation as a leader in men's fashion. Both correct." She runs her fingers across the touch pad and Nick's fingers mimic the motions across Harry's back. "Okay, Teen Vogue."

Harry purses his lips, thinks about the sea of teenage girls outside every hotel during tour. "I don't know. Sad?"

Nick shakes his head. "No way. It's not like you said no girls. They're fine with it."

"It's a whole collection of teens talking about how Harry coming out made them feel like they could too." Fiona smiles at Harry who ducks his head a little. "Point, Grimshaw."

In the end, because no major media outlet is going to slam someone for coming out these days, they're mostly positive. Vanity Fair obnoxiously makes the whole thing a joke about Harry and Louis, a few articles insist the whole thing is a publicity stunt to "make anyone care about a boyband reunion," and The Daily Mail uses the occasion to remind everyone that Nick's too old for Harry. Harry scowls at that one, but Nick shrugs, drops a quick kiss on Harry's cheek and points out that their predictable reaction won him the quiz.

"At least they're good for something," Fiona says as she closes the laptop and stands up. "This was fun, but I should do some real work or we won't have a show tomorrow."

They say their goodbyes and Nick sips the last of his coffee before standing up as well. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Not for you - you won a free lunch." Harry rolls his head back and stares up at Nick for a few seconds. He shakes his head. "No, it wasn't. Thank you. So, where are we going?"

Nick pulls out his phone. "Hey, Siri, where's the most expensive lunch in London?"

Harry laughs and stands up, following Nick to his desk and then out of the building, feeling a lot lighter than when he arrived.

**

"Okay, no." Nick is standing in the bedroom door, mouth set in a grim line. "We're done with this."

Harry stares up from the bed where he's wrapped himself in the duvet and two extra blankets from the closet, a cocoon of cushions around him. He sprawled out there when Nick left to film something after lunch and stayed there through three phone interviews, a Facetime with Julian about changing the mix on one of the last album tracks to be finished, and a call with his mum. Then he started aimlessly scrolling through Nick's twitter mentions even though he was absolutely forbidden from doing so, alternately shocked and amused by the comments Harry's fans are still leaving two weeks after their announcement. His eyes hurt now and he has no idea how long he's been looking at his phone. He blinks at Nick a few times and then asks, "Done with what?"

Nick rolls his eyes, waves his hands. "Sad blanket cave man. Or whatever we're calling this."

Harry clutches the duvet to his chest just in time to keep Nick from dragging it off of him. "No. Nick, I'm cold." He's definitely whining, but he can't really care. Nick's flat is exceptionally cold today.

"Most people solve that with clothes." Nick tugs at the blanket hard enough that he pulls it about a quarter off Harry, his calves and feet swinging off the bed with the force.

Harry pulls back and they struggle for a minute until Pig comes running in, clearly thinking they're playing without her. She grabs another end of the duvet and pulls, growling and Harry starts laughing enough that he loses his grip and Nick falls back with the change in pressure, stumbling into the bedside table.

"Ow, fuck." Nick rights himself and throws the end of the duvet down, looking momentarily regretful as Pig claims her prize. "You're buying me a new duvet when Pig ruins that one."

"You started this, it's not my fault." Harry gathers the smaller, less warm blankets over him.

"Fake boyfriend tax." Nick sits on the far edge of the bed. "Harry, come on. I'm serious, get up."

Harry shrugs. "I'm comfy. And I have nowhere I have to be." He looks around the room, at the photos lining the wall. "I like it here."

Nick scoffs. "You have a hundred houses with better art than this." Harry likes Nick's flat better than any of the houses he owns, but he doesn't bother to say that. "You haven't gone out except for work in weeks, you haven't seen your friends or even Gemma. Isn't the point of this so you can stop hiding?"

"Ha. Not that kind of hiding." Harry pulls at his lip. He hasn't been staying in on purpose, but he can see how it might look like hiding. "And I'm not. None of my friends are in town and here I can see you." Nick raises one eyebrow and instead of admitting how that's the most important thing to him Harry shrugs again. "I just haven't had anything else I wanted to do."

Nick stares at him, considering, then nods. "Well, now you do." Nick stands up again and Harry holds his remaining blankets tight. "I want to go out to dinner. And maybe dancing - Annie Mac has a gig we can go to. If you don't take me, I will definitely tell everyone in the nation how my boring boyfriend hates my face so much he won't even go out in public with me now that the whole world knows about us."

Harry pulls the blanket half over his face to hide his grin. "You wouldn't." The idea of going out with Nick should be enough to get him up, but part of him would rather stay in with Nick and watch crap telly over a curry.

Nick levels him with a stare that tells Harry he definitely would. Harry refuses to respond to this non-verbal show of aggression and just waits, his breath condensing under the blanket in a vaguely unpleasant way. Nick shakes his head and stands, turning to the wardrobes. Harry watches as Nick flicks through hangers, head tilting as he considers one shirt and then another before finally pulling out a gauzy button-up Gucci shirt that Harry knows he bought Nick for his birthday last year. Nick tosses it on the bed and then goes back to the hangers, not flipping through, but sliding a bunch to one side until he finds what he wants and tosses a second shirt on top of the first. From behind another door, he pulls a pair of Harry's pants and adds them to the pile. Harry hears a ripping sound and turns to the corner where Pig is shredding the duvet.

Nick hisses. "Pig, no." There's a pause in the noises and then she's back to it. Nick turns towards her.

"Stop it, Pig." Harry says, pulling his face fully out so his voice carries. "Leave it." Pig looks up at him, tail wagging a little and he reaches for a toy they were playing with earlier, throws it out the door and into the hall. Pig looks between the door and Harry a few times and dashes off to chase after the toy. "Ha," Harry says, triumphant.

"She didn't obey you. You just distracted her." Nick picks the duvet up off the floor and examines it. From here the rip doesn't look too bad. Harry will still replace it, though.

"Same thing in the end." Harry reaches his hand out for the duvet, but Nick raises his eyebrow and shakes his head before putting it into the hamper.

"You need to shower." Nick is back to the wardrobe, searching for jeans probably. "You can't go out like that - when was the last time you even washed your hair?"

Harry doesn't wash it every day, Lou says he shouldn't and he's about to protest, but if he thinks about it it's maybe been a while longer than usual, so he just hums a non-answer.

When Nick re-emerges with Harry's tightest pair of jeans, he places them on the pile and tips his head, watching Harry for a second before coming to sit down again, closer this time. He pokes at Harry's chest under the blankets, keeps his finger pressed there. "What did you think it was going to be like?" Nick's eyes are shining a little in the soft light of the bedside lamp. "After all this, after you told everyone?"

Harry bites at his lip, tries to remember what he thought when he told Jeff to do this. If he's honest, he was mostly thinking about Nick then, about spending time with him and being here in his flat while they prepared for the album and the tour, watching whatever reality show Nick was obsessed with at the moment, arguing about the point of putting bee pollen in smoothies, and walking Pig around the Marshes at the weekend. But that's definitely not what Nick's asking about and also not something Harry can get into, so he thinks back to the original plan, the reason he wanted to come out.

"I didn't want to lie to people. Or like, feel like I was lying?" Harry shrugs. "Not because I owe them anything, but because with everything that was happening, it actually felt like lying instead of just not sharing. And once I was on my own it felt harder. So, I guess, I just wanted to do the right thing and I wanted it to be easier." Nick is watching him and he doesn't say anything. "Daft, right? Of course it's not easier."

"It will be. The press will die down, the paps will go back the normal dull roar." Nick shrugs, flattens his palm against the blanket and Harry knows he can't really feel any warmer just from that, but somehow he does. "You can move out of my flat and go back to your models of the week - except it can be any kind of model you fancy with no risk of a call-all-the-publicists-home-from-vacation scandal." Nick leers a little, waggles his brows.

Harry frowns at that, but he can't quite disagree since that's exactly what he has to do.

"But Harold." Nick drops the teasing face, looks deeply serious as he curls his fingers around the edge of the blanket, his nails scraping lightly against Harry's skin. Harry shivers and looks down at Nick's hands. Nick hesitates and then laughs, standing and pulling the blankets in one swift move while Harry's distracted. "In the meantime Harold, as Eileen Grimshaw always says, the only way out is through."

Harry grabs for the blankets too late and whines as Nick backs away, leaving him naked and freezing on the bed. He has to get up no matter what now, if he wants to fight for the blankets, which is going to be a challenge if the determined look on Nick's face is any indication. And really, the idea of going out doesn't seem so bad. It's not like he's actually that bothered by the paps and the questions and the like, if Nick isn't. Still, though.

"Fine, but you're buying my drinks," he says before standing and heading into the shower.

When he's out, Nick's not in the bedroom, so Harry pulls on the clothes Nick left on the bed, blankets gone and the extra duvet spread out in their place. He pulls at his hair, sweeping the fringe forward and then back and stares at himself in the mirror until he hears Nick calling him.

On the kitchen counter there are four small shots poured, tiny jewel colored vintage shot glasses that Harry remembers watching Nick pick out in some stall in Camden after brunch years ago. Nick holds a glass out to Harry. "Alcohol will smooth your reintegration into society."

"It hasn't been that long. I'm not a bloody shut-in." Harry lifts his glass and waits for Nick to do the same. "To going out after coming out."

Nick frowns like he's not sure if it's a pun he should groan at, but Harry motions with the glass and then they're both tossing them back. Harry winces at the sting of vodka against the back of his throat, the instinctive way his stomach twists a little before settling. He takes a breath and Nick's handing him the next glass.

He lifts his. "To Harry Styles, official bisexual popstar and the very best fake boyfriend an aging British radio DJ could ask for." Nick grins before downing his second shot and Harry watches Nick's throat as he swallows, eyes caught on a small drip of vodka that missed his mouth and is trickling down Nick's chin and onto his neck. He turns just as Nick's straightening up and he doesn't breathe quite right and nearly chokes as he does his own shot. He recovers and Nick's laughing at him as he collects all the glasses and drops them in the sink.

His phone buzzes as he turns. "Car's here."

At the door, they both step into their shoes and grab wallets and keys. Nick gives his hair a quick glance in the mirror by the door and then turns to Harry. "Ready?"

Harry feels a small twinge of something like anxiety, but he pushes it down and rolls his eyes. "I went to a meeting at the label yesterday, Nick." Still, he lets Nick take his hand as they make their way out to the street.

"Keeping up appearances, yeah?" Nick squeezes Harry's hand and lets him slide into the car first, waving at the cameras going off down and across the street. Harry could probably get them removed, but the publicity's the point of this, so they're letting them be for now.

In the car, Nick tells Harry about the filming and then a story about Arlo who he's apparently stopped to visit on the way home. Between the vodka and the laughter, by the time they're at the restaurant, Harry's relaxed, any anxiety smoothed over by Nick, as usual. The place Nick picked isn't somewhere they usually go and there aren't any cameras outside, although he can see the cars that followed theirs pulling up and people spilling out. Nick tells the driver he'll ring when they're ready to leave and then he's reaching for Harry's hand again and they're inside before very many flashes go off at all.

"See, not so bad," Nick says as they wait for the hostess to stop blinking at them in shock and take them to their table. Harry doesn't say it'll be worse when they leave, just smiles at the girl as her hands flutter over the stack of menus and seating charts as if she's not sure what they are. It's the smile reserved for small children and skittish fans and it works, she smiles back and grabs the menus, leading them through to a quiet table in the back corner. Because he can and because he's actually probably supposed to, Harry drops a quick kiss to Nick's lips, just a brush that barely feels like it happened, before sitting down. Nick looks a little confused, but recovers quickly and settles into his seat.

Dinner is nice, Harry lets himself drink a little too much wine and carefully avoids looking for the camera phones he's sure are pointed in their direction. They share a starter and Nick over-orders, so Harry eats some of his entree too, reaching across and letting their hands brush together as they scrape their forks across the plates. Dessert is something fruity and not too sweet that Nick orders because he says Harry will love but only picks at his half. Harry does love it, though, and collapses back into his seat as he finishes the last bite.

He looks across the table at Nick who's pulled out his phone and is scrolling through. He looks up at Harry. "Getting the car, okay?"

Harry nods and when Nick puts the phone away says, "Thanks. For this. You were right - it is nice to leave the blanket cave sometimes."

"Night's not over yet. I was promised music and dancing as well." Nick stands and reaches across for Harry's hand, pulling him up. Harry makes a show of stumbling against Nick's chest and laughs when Nick swats at his shoulder. "Stand up and behave. Don't want the paps saying I've gone and turned you into a drunk."

At the club, they make their way to say hi to Annie, who greets them warmly and they have a quick drink huddled around the turntables watching her and the crowd. When his glass is empty, Harry makes to head for the bar, but Nick shakes his head and drags him into a corner that's not exactly in the crowd, but close enough to make Harry feel like they're a part of it. Nick is a much better dancer than Harry, but a choreographer once told him that the key to most dancing is enthusiasm, not skill, so he goes for it, letting his hands settle on Nick's hips as they move. Harry tips his head back and watches the lights flash around him, reflecting off the mass of bodies only a few feet away and appearing to bounce around the darkened room. When he looks back at Nick, he's staring at Harry's mouth, eyes glazed and bright. The music is slow and seductive, feels like it's wrapping around them and leaving a hazy feeling behind. Harry pulls him in closer and lets their legs twine together, circling his hips a little more than he normally would with a friend. Nick doesn't pull away, just blinks rapidly and rests one hand against Harry's neck, fingers trailing through the sweat there and lightly pulling at a few curls. They're staring at one another and the moment feels heavy with the weight of everything Harry hasn't been saying for years. He knows he should break it, knows that a quick shag between friends doesn't get him anything like what he wants, but Nick's other hand is making slow patterns on the skin at Harry's waist and he feels a bit like he's watching the whole scene from the far side of the room, struggling to remember exactly why he hasn't let this happen before. Nick is leaning in, hand tighter on Harry's waist and Harry's letting him, tipping his face towards Nick's, when the music stops and Annie's voice cuts through the room, saying something Harry can't process.

Then Nick's blinking again and shaking his head, loosening his grip on Harry. He drops his head to Harry's chest and laughs, shaky, but maybe just with the effort of dancing. "Guess we gave everyone a proper show, yeah?"

He's pulling back then and Harry's hands hang uselessly in the air where they were on Nick. He forces a broad smile and a nod, saved from having to say anything by the music starting up again, something brighter and brasher that Harry thinks he may actually have heard before, even if just on Annie's show. He nods again, head bobbing awkwardly and watches Nick bite his lip and then roll his eyes.

"Another drink, yeah?" Nick shouts, turning away before Harry can answer.

Harry's watching Nick make his way to the bar when someone leans against him, cloud of perfume following and sharp nails pressing into his wrist. He waits until he loses Nick in the crowd to turn, grinning. "Aimee," he shouts over the music.

She stares at him, not smiling, and taps her nails twice before releasing his hand. "Styles," she says against his ear before pulling back and leaning against the wall next to him. Her American accent is nice to hear, even if her vowels are a little rounder than they used to be.

"I didn't know you were coming." Harry slides closer to her, pressing his back to the wall. "Nick didn't say."

"Hmmm. He's a bit preoccupied lately, though. Not sure he knew I was here." Aimee stares at him and then cuts her eyes in the direction Nick had gone. Harry thinks it's odd that Nick wouldn't know if Aimee was coming, but he just nods. "So." Aimee turns back to Harry. "I guess congratulations are in order."

Harry smiles, not sure if it's just how loud it is in here that's making Aimee's voice sound so cold. "Guess so. Cheers." Aimee doesn't say anything else so Harry says, "Nice to be open about it and all."

Aimee tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. Harry remembers how terrifying he thought she was the first time they met. "Open." She frowns. "Guess 'honest' wouldn't be the right word given the situation you've created."

She's staring at him, eyebrow still up and Harry blinks a few times, tries to clear the fog of everything he's been drinking out of his brain.

"Well, I guess." He shakes his head, tries to smile. "Just a bit of acting, right? Not sure if you've heard but I'm-"

"Don't think anyone gets hurt making movies." Aimee's hair is catching all the light and it looks purple even though Harry's pretty sure it's currently just blonde. "But I guess that's no concern of yours."

Harry's mouth is wide and he suspects he looks a bit like a fish, but he's not sure what Aimee is upset about. He stares for a few seconds and then Aimee's face is softening, brows falling, and Harry feels the warm press of Nick against his side.

"Aims." Nick presses a drink into Harry's hand and Harry's confused and not a little disappointed when Nick pulls away again once Harry takes the glass. "I didn't know you were coming out."

"Been here all night. Saw you all arrive, actually, but I guess you didn't notice with all the 'acting.'" Aimee smiles at Harry, but it looks sharp. After an uncomfortable second, she looks back at Nick. "Anyway, Ian wanted to get out. Figured we'd surprise you" She glances over at Harry again. "Since I haven't seen you since Harry got to town." Harry turns to Nick just in time to see him roll his eyes.

Harry knows he can't whisper over the music, but he does anyway, mutters "Nick, I think she's mad." Nick cocks his head and tips his ear down to Harry's lips. Harry repeats himself. "Is Aimee angry with me?"

Nick stands up again and lets Harry press back into him. "No, Haz, Aimee certainly isn't angry at you." Aimee shakes her head, but not in a way that seems to confirm what Nick's saying. "Because there would be no reason for her to be. Just a friend doing a favor for another friend - one who has always been really great and definitely deserves some help." Harry turns his head to smile up at Nick and hears Aimee cough behind them. He turns back to her and watches as she stares at Nick, mouth and eyebrows moving around in one of their typical wordless conversations.

Eventually Aimee sighs. "Of course. Everything is definitely fine."

"Great." Nick's voice is too loud, even over the music and Harry closes his eyes so he can try to understand what's going on. "It was lovely to see you, Aims, but I think young Harold has been a bit overserved, so we should probably be heading home for the night. Give little Ian our love." Nick leans across Harry to press his lips to Aimee's cheek, and Harry opens his eyes to meet Aimee's over Nick's shoulder. She still looks angry, but she's kissing Nick back.

Harry doesn't say goodbye, just lets Nick shepherd him out of the club, watching Aimee as long as he can until they're too far away, her face changing from cold to something Harry would call sad. They get through the line of paps, the flashes painful against Harry's eyes after the darkness of the club. Harry's never been quite so glad that he's perfectly allowed to cling to Nick and keep his face practically buried in Nick's back as they move to the car. Once inside, Nick pulls Harry in and Harry knows he shouldn't, but everything feels slow and confused, so he just gives in, curls against Nick.

"What's." Harry's stomach lurches a little as the car starts. "How come Aimee--"

Nick pats Harry's hair. "She's just in a strop about something. We argued last week." Nick's hand winds it's way into Harry's curls and Harry closes his eyes. "Nothing to worry about."

Harry thinks that's probably not true, but the gentle pressure of Nick's fingers on his scalp and the rhythm of the car lull him into letting it go and then into a soft doze and by the time they're home, Harry is too warm and comfortable to think about anything except diving back into Nick's bed. In the morning, Nick's gone before Harry wakes up and Harry never remembers to ask why Nick and Aimee fought in the first place.

**

Harry's scrolling through Nick's music on his laptop. Theoretically, he's picking something to listen to while he makes some biscuits he promised to bring to Gemma's for dinner, but really he's just waiting for Nick to get out of the shower so he can make him DJ. Nick will say he's not working on his time off, but Harry knows he'll do it and enjoy it. Nick likes forcing his music on everyone else. In the meantime, Harry's just scrolling and playing bits of things he doesn't recognize, making notes to ask Nick about some of them.

"Is that the new Wolf Alice?" Nick says as he enters the lounge. "Love that record."

Harry nods, "'ts good." He's putting on his best 'please do what I want' face when something catches his eye at the bottom of the screen. "Wait, you have Zayn's album?"

Nick blinks when Harry looks up at him and shrugs. "It plays in the clubs." Nick's hair is still damp and drooping over his forehead - it makes him look younger than usual. "I have a lot of albums, Harry."

"I know, I just." Harry bites at his bottom lip. He can't remember ever talking about Zayn's solo stuff with Nick. "You never told me you'd listened to it. Not just the singles, I mean."

Nick laughs lightly. "Didn't seem necessary." Nick comes over and perches on the arm of the sofa, looks down at the laptop where Harry's pulled up the album so Zayn's weird baby picture fills the screen. The face Nick makes at it matches Harry's. "Like, 'oh by the way, I listened to that album your ex-friend you used to be in love with put out. Want to hear my opinions?' Didn't seem like it would go over well."

"That I used to be in love--?" Harry turns quickly to stare up at Nick, computer jostling on his lap and Nick reaching to steady it. "What?"

Nick frowns and sits back a little, catching himself with his hand when he seems to remember he's not sitting in a proper seat. "In love, deeply crushing on, whatever. The point is still the same - you didn't like to hear his name if you could avoid it."

"Yeah, 'cause he fucked off and then was kind of a dick about it and it was in every fucking interview forever like a nightmare, not because I was in love with him." The idea is so preposterous, but Nick just raises his eyebrows. "Seriously Nick, what are you talking about?" Harry can tell Nick isn't joking but he cannot understand where Nick got this idea in his head. "If this is like, something Niall told you, he was just fucking with you."

Nick tips his head to the side, considering Harry's face. "Huh. I always thought. I know we never talked about it again, but that time you called me from tour?" Harry just keeps staring up at Nick, confused. "It was like, early morning and you were drunk off your head, like, maybe you were crying?"

"Wait, when?" Harry wonders if maybe Nick has gotten a better poker face in the last year and this is an elaborate prank. Harry has called Nick drunk before, but never that upset and never about Zayn. "Like, when he left?"

"No, before. Um." Nick narrows his eyes like he's doing math in his head. "Summer and you were in America. I guess it would be the tour before he left, then?" Nick is staring at Harry like he expects him to acknowledge what he's saying but Harry's a blank. "Haz, do you really not remember?"

Harry shakes his head. "Are you having me on?"

Nick hesitates, like he's not sure what to say, and then just, "No. You were really upset. Actually, it kind of freaked me out if I'm honest."

Nick's definitely not joking so Harry tries to think back, tries to remember what Nick could be talking about. "I was pissed? Maybe I blacked out?" Harry doesn't do that often, doesn't let himself drink that much most of the time. Moments like this where he can't remember something he's apparently done being the main reason why since it makes controlling press more challenging. "What'd I say?"

"You were really slurring, so it was kind of hard to tell, but I finally got you to calm down a little and then." Nick's still frowning. "Ugh, it was that little choking, sobbing crying that people do that sounds so painful you just want to fix whatever it is for them? I'd never heard you do that before."

A minute ago Nick said 'maybe' Harry was crying, but it sounds like it was a lot worse than that. "What about?"

"You said someone - you wouldn't say who, said you couldn't and it didn't matter, I wouldn't care who it was." Nick looks down at Harry. "I would have cared." Harry nods, he doesn't remember but it seems important to Nick that he would care and Harry doesn't doubt him. "Whoever, you said they were crushing your heart because you loved them and you couldn't tell them because it would ruin everything, make everything awful when it didn't work out but it was making you so sad."

Harry doesn't remember this conversation, but he's familiar with that speech because he's given it before, a less tear-filled version, to Jeff and to Niall and to Lou. Harry tries not to hyperventilate, forces a deep breath in and out as he realizes he called Nick to cry about having a crush on Nick. "I. That's what I said? Crushing my heart?" Harry tries to laugh but it comes out breathy. "What a drama queen."

Nick doesn't nod, just reaches out to pull at one of Harry's curls and Harry leans into it. "You seemed really sad. I told you if you felt that bad you should just tell her and you stopped me, said 'he,' kept saying it over and over and then that he couldn't know because it was too important, everything had to stay like it was."

Harry can't believe he did that or that he doesn't remember it. He stares for a second, but it doesn't seem like Nick's going to say more. "I said it was Zayn?" That part still makes no sense.

Nick's hand has fallen to Harry's shoulder and he squeezes it. "No." He shrugs. "I just assumed actually. The impression you were giving was it had to be someone super important to you and your life and given the emphatic 'he,' someone in the band was the only thing that made sense. No one else that important." Harry almost laughs at how much Nick missed the mark, but he feels sick which tamps down the laughter. "And you and Zayn had all that," Nick waves his hand around to encompass all the ways in which Harry and Zayn kind of fucked up their friendship before Zayn ever left.

It would have been fixable, though, Harry knows. If Zayn had stayed. But that's not the point right now, so he pulls his brain back to focus. He tries to think back to that summer, but nothing sticks out.

Nick taps Harry's shoulder, nods a bit. "Oh, you know - it was right after my birthday. Because I was fully hungover and almost didn't answer because." Nick pauses. "Um, because you'd already called about my birthday, so I didn't think it'd be you."

Harry does remember calling Nick that year, it was his 30th and Harry felt bad missing it in a way he hadn't the year before, was kind of in a mood about it all day and the next. He starts, sits back a little and Nick looks at his hand where it falls to the couch. The next day Harry went to New York for the day off and he definitely had too much to drink. He doesn't remember calling Nick, but. "Oh," he says and Nick looks at him expectantly. "I did get drunk that day. I was in New York."

Nick nods. "You were plastered" He looks across the room where Pig is shuffling around in her bed. "You really don't remember then? I honestly just figured you hadn't wanted to talk about it after. And it was ages until I actually saw you again and you seemed fine by then." Nick shrugs. "I figured either you were over it or you'd rather not drag it up. And then he, you know. So. Definitely didn't want to push." Nick chews at his lip. "Not great with the emotional support, me."

Harry shakes his head and slides back toward Nick until he's pressed against his thigh. "You're fine." Harry still can't believe he did that, he could have ruined everything if Nick had connected the right dots. But since he didn't, it's actually kind of funny. "Wait," Harry pokes at Nick's side. "Is this why you were always so mean about him?" They never talked about it, but Harry noticed that Nick made a fair number of jokes at Zayn's expense. "Because he crushed my heart?"

Nick looks for a second like he might protest, but finally rolls his eyes and says, "Among other reasons."

Harry laughs and curls his hand around Nick's waist. "Aww, you were trying to defend my heart from mean old heartbreaker Zayn." Nick tries to pull away, but Harry grabs at his t-shirt and doesn't let him go. "You didn't want me to be sad." He draws out the 'a' sound, singsongs it. Warmth is spreading through his chest and he feels a little bit like singing. "I have the best taste in fake boyfriends."

Nick sighs and quirks his hip to shake Harry's hand off, but he doesn't seem to be trying that hard. "You're just awful when you're in a strop. I didn't want to have to live through any more of your heartbreak."

Nick has actually said on many occasions, usually when Harry casually tells him about another model he's no longer dating, that Harry's heart is remarkably resilient - it's something they have in common. Really, it's because Harry's heart isn't engaged in most of those relationships. Harry's not sure what Nick's excuse is, just assumes he's better at moving on than most people. It makes sense with the ways Nick can get bored with people. People that he dates, anyway. With friends, he always keeps them around, which is a difference that Harry has taken careful note of.

"You thought I was in love with Zayn and you were worried about me," Harry teases. He sort of suspects he should probably let this drop, but he's so endeared by the idea that Nick has disliked Zayn all this time just because Nick thought he dared not to love Harry back. "Worried I was losing it, just sitting on the tour bus pining over his cheekbones?"

"They are great cheekbones," Nick waggles his eyebrows a little and Harry feels a familiar shot of pointless jealousy and stamps it down without even thinking about it, as usual. Nick frowns down at him. "Wait so you really didn't fancy Zayn?" Harry shakes his head, still clinging to Nick's shirt. "Which one, then? Please say it wasn't Louis."

"Nick," Harry glares at him. Harry thinks for a second. "Anyway, I don't remember calling you, so I can't tell you what I was on about. I really didn't say who?"

"Nope." Nick bites his lip. "You don't remember calling me, but Harry, you were so upset. It couldn't have been about nothing. It was someone, right?"

Harry twists his lips into his best charm-the-interviewer-into-changing-the-topic smile and shrugs. "It was years ago, Nick." It's a careful non-lie that is technically true and purposely evasive, very Media Training 101. The look Nick gives him makes Harry think Nick is aware of that.

But after a second of staring at Harry with sad eyes, Nick knocks into him a little and nods. He tips his head to the computer. "So you want to listen to it, then?"

Harry wrinkles his nose and finally, a little reluctantly, lets go of Nick's shirt. "No. Never." He made a pact with Louis and he's sure Louis broke it, but still. He lifts the laptop and pushes it at Nick. "Do us a playlist? I have to bake."

Nick doesn't even pretend to protest, just stands and heads toward the kitchen. "You're going to make extra for me, right?" He looks back over his shoulder. "That's another fake boyfriend tax - add it to the list."

Harry was going to make extra anyway, but he just laughs and follows Nick into the kitchen, putting the thought of what he must have sounded like on that phone call, how close he might have been to telling him the truth, out of his mind. "That list keeps getting longer."

"Also on the list - no complaining about the list."

Nick starts up a song and Harry just watches him dance around the kitchen until Nick reminds him he's meant to be baking. Harry dances his way to get around Nick to where he's laid out the ingredients but Nick turns, dancing with him before he lets him pass. Harry lets himself press back into Nick and move to the music until Nick pulls away, still laughing. Harry tries not to miss the feeling of Nick against him and focuses on the biscuits, Nick's music playing loud enough that he has to shout his commentary over it.

**

When Harry gets home from a night of recording some live stuff to package with the album, he's so knackered that he's struggling to decide whether he wants to go straight to bed or have a shower first. It's late and it's Thursday, so he expects Nick to be asleep and enters the flat quietly, trying not to rattle his keys as he pulls them from the door. But once he's inside, he's surprised to hear the telly coming from the lounge. He winces - if Nick fell asleep there again, he'll be whining about the crick in his neck all weekend. Harry drops his keys on the table in the hall and toes off his boots, stretching his legs a little as he does it, before heading to find Nick, careful to avoid the step that creaks. He pauses in the door and peers into the room, the only light coming from the screen.

Nick is sprawled across the sofa, one foot up on the arm, Pig taking up more space across his abdomen and thighs than seems possible. Nick's hand is curled against her, but it's not moving and Harry can't tell if he's awake. Harry turns to the screen, grins when he recognizes Tobey Maguire's rubbery face. He leans against the door and watches Spiderman swing off a building for a second before his eyes wander back to Nick. From this angle, his face looks a bit different than usual, less angular. His hair is unruly, some strands spilling onto his forehead and some going back towards the pillow and his glasses are slid slightly too far down his nose, but it's not as though Nick needs to see what's going on even if he is awake - he could probably recite the movie at this point. Nick's wearing an old Rolling Stones t-shirt that is definitely Harry's and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Literally everything about him looks impossibly, excruciatingly soft and Harry's entire body aches to reach out and touch. He takes two deep breaths and just stands there, fingers clenched into tight fists, the sounds of James Franco's sad voice filling the room.

"Are you going to stand there and breathe at me all night, then?"

Harry jumps at the sound of Nick's voice and stands up straight. "I thought you were asleep."

Nick turns his head on the cushion and smiles up at Harry and it's the same as always, just Nick's normal smile with maybe a little extra sleep around the edges, but Harry's so tired and it feels like when Louis used to sit on his chest in the dressing room after a show - too warm and too heavy and weirdly comforting anyway. "Have a good show?"

Harry shrugs, can't quite make any words come out over the lump in his throat. He nods and his brain or his body must take pity on him because he has to yawn just then, and it distracts him from looking at Nick and saves him from answering.

"Aw, poor tired popstar." Nick sits up a little, yawning himself and Pig whining in protest before they both resettle, Nick bent at the waist, propped against the cushions, his legs curled up and Pig coiled in on herself more to fit on Nick's lap. Nick tips his head at the small space he's left on the sofa. "Watch with us?"

Harry has the overwhelming feeling that he shouldn't, that he should actually turn around and put his boots on and go out. Maybe take Niall up on that pint, or force Gemma to do him a cup of tea and a toastie in her bright kitchen, or even to get on the first flight back to L.A. to wherever Jeff and Glenne are having dinner and share in their easy laughter. He wants to sit there, practically on top of this painfully soft and perfect version of Nick so badly that there's no way it can be the right thing to do and he's afraid in a way he hasn't been before that he'll not be able to resist this time, that he'll ruin everything. He realizes with one sharp inhale that this entire idea was selfish and dangerous and he feels the walls crushing in on him.

Nick raises his eyebrows and then looks back at the telly. "If you're too tired, just go to bed then." Nick's voice is flat, something false about the lightness when he says "I'm not bothered." Maybe he's as tired as Harry - it's far past his usual bedtime when he has radio in the morning.

Harry watches Nick watch the film, holds himself still against the conflicting urges to run and to collapse on top of Nick until he's practically a part of him. He realizes that he has to say something at least, so he lets out a soft breath and says, "Late night Spiderman viewing not on the list of taxes then?"

Nick doesn't laugh, just shrugs and turns to look at Pig, scratches at her neck until she shuffles against him in her sleep. "I just couldn't sleep," which isn't a response that really follows from what Harry said. "It's too." Nick pauses and Harry doesn't let himself blink as he watches and waits. Nick shrugs again, though, and says, "This film's always good for when you're feeling out of sorts."

Harry wants to ask what's wrong, why Nick can't sleep. He wants to know if Nick had a bad day or a stupid row with Pixie like they sometimes have - never about anything that matters, but always enough to leave Nick feeling pissy and fragile until they're both over it without either of them ever apologizing - or if it today's guest was a dick, but he can't quite do it. He bites his lip and stares at the screen until he feels strong enough to stand up without backing toward the door. He's one second from forcing himself to the bedroom when Nick turns back to Harry and smiles, slightly crooked. And if Harry didn't already know he was fucked, if he still thought there was a chance that this really would help him get over his feelings for Nick, that smile confirms he was wrong. Instead of legging it to Heathrow, though, he thinks of Nick's mum, remembers the only way out is through. So he walks across to the sofa and ghosts his hand lightly over Nick's hair.

Nick pushes his head up into it and his smile widens, straightens a little. "Smart choice - this is the best part."

Harry scoffs, "You think all the parts are the best parts."

Nick curls his legs up a little more and Harry considers just falling down on top of him, pictures his head nestled next to Pig, his cheek resting on Nick's hip where his lips could easily slide against the edge of the thin t-shirt. But that train of thought is clearly not something Harry should be following, so he turns around and presses into the opposite end, half criss-crossed, one leg pulled up toward him and the other stretching out and hanging partially off the sofa next to Pig's paw. Nick wrinkles his brow a little, possibly not thrilled about having Harry's post-performance feet nearly in his face, so Harry twists himself just a bit and pulls his leg back on the sofa so the part that was hanging off is now tucked under Nick's knee and thigh. Harry pulls at the cushions until he's settled and he can feel Nick watching him.

"You all right?" Nick's voice is barely a whisper.

"Knackered." Harry turns his head against the cushion and pushes his toe against the underside of Nick's knee. "This is nice, though."

They stare at each other and Harry feels like Nick's going to ask something else, but there's a loud clang from the telly and Harry looks to see what's happening. It's a long fight scene and Harry thinks maybe he slept through this part the last time he saw it because he's not quite sure what point they're at in the story.

After a few minutes of trying to puzzle it out, Harry sighs. "Wait, why is Franco's dad doing all this again?"

The only answer is a light snore from Pig, so Harry looks over and sees that Nick has fallen asleep, head tipped back in the exact angle that's worst for his neck. Harry should wake him up, make him go to bed, but instead he just leans back against the sofa arm and watches Nick sleep, the sounds of Peter Parker's great power and great responsibility running on above them. Nick has a small smile on his face, even in sleep, and Harry focuses on the pressure of Nick's leg against Harry's calf, the flannel of his pajamas as soft as Harry imagined through the holes in his jeans. He wills himself to let this be enough, to keep pushing on until it's time to go back to normal. He's not exactly sure what he'll do then, but he assumes he'll have time to figure that out then as long as he doesn't fuck anything up now.

**

Harry flops down on the floor and leans against an amp that he doesn't think anyone is planning on using. He somehow managed to bang into Liam during the last rehearsal before break, knocking them both into some furniture standing in for missing set pieces and leaving what feels like it'll be a huge bruise forming on his forearm. He presses at it lightly and grimaces, but does it again anyway until a PA distracts him with a bottle of water. He nods his thanks and drains half of it in one sip before pulling out his phone. He has three messages from Nick, have a good rehearsal with a picture of Pig sniffing at some flowers in a storefront from this morning and then just recently thoughts for tea? followed immediately by if you'll be coming home after I mean. Harry sighs and stares at the messages before clicking away to scroll through Instagram without actually looking at it.

On Friday, he woke up on the sofa to the sound of Nick swearing under his breath next to him. Harry peeked through barely opened eyes to see Nick rubbing at his neck and he barely suppressed a grin before quickly closing his eyes again when Nick turned towards him. Nick tapped lightly at his leg and whispered, "Haz, Hazza." Harry didn't move, tried to keep his breathing deep and regular. After a few seconds he felt Nick stand and whisper, "your back is going to be awful." There was a minute of silence then and Harry thought Nick had left, but then there was a careful press of fingers to his hairline and his cheek and a light brush of Nick's hand to Harry's head. He snuffled out a fake sleep sound and pressed into it, the urge to keep pretending fighting with the urge to wake up and pull Nick into an early morning kiss at war the same way he'd felt the night before. But Nick pulled his hand back when Harry moved, muttered "fuck," and after clicking the telly off, left the room. Harry waited, opened his eyes to see that it was a few hours before Nick had to be up. He was probably going to bed, but Harry decided to stay on the sofa. That night he'd gone out with Ed and crashed at his house and then stayed with Gemma for the weekend, telling Nick she needed some quality sibling time. He hadn't minded, just a short pause down the line on Saturday morning and a quick joke about being happy to have some space of his own, but Harry felt like he was doing something wrong anyway.

And that's the thing, really. At this point he feels like he's doing something wrong by avoiding Nick and by being at Nick's. Because it all comes down to the fact that ever since standing in that doorway watching Nick sleep and feeling the ache of missing him when he was just across the room, asking Nick to pretend a relationship that Harry really wants has suddenly started to feel creepy. Gemma just raised her eyebrows at that and said "started to?" before Harry threw a chip from their takeaway at her. Harry rolls his eyes at himself and finishes the water, looking around to see where the rest of the lads are and if it's time to start again. But no one's around, so he flips back to the messages and hovers over Nick's again before pulling up the conversation with Ed and sending Around tonight?

"What's this, then?" A newspaper drops onto Harry's lap and he looks up to see Niall above him, head tilted and eyebrows raised. "Problems in fake paradise?"

Harry picks up the paper, a copy of yesterday's Sunday Mirror with something about Prince Harry's engagement on the cover. The nation's still not sure about her, apparently, not clear if she's really ready for the challenging task of wearing designer dresses and helping orphans. Harry squints back up at Niall. "You're following the Royals now? Not very Irish of you."

Niall sighs and lowers himself to sit on the amp. "No, there." He points to the top corner where there's a picture of Harry leaving a bar with Ed. "Inside, page 2." Niall kicks at Harry's arm while he's turning the page, exactly where the bruise is forming. Niall has a pain-seeking superpower, but everyone forgives him because he's so nice about it. Harry swats his foot away and scans down to find the headline Niall's on about. Harry and Grimmy on the Rocks?. The article is just a recitation of Harry's whereabouts at the weekend with one, probably fake, source saying that Grimmy's been back to living it up while Harry's staying elsewhere. Friends thought this time might really work out for him but it looks like it'll just be another one of the DJ's short-lived affairs. There's a picture of Nick and George laughing outside the Edition, Pixie smoking behind them.

"Oh, bloody hell." Harry frowns up at Niall. "Hopefully the much younger popstar won't be too brokenhearted?' Seriously?"

"I know, mate. That's definitely not what I said. Can't believe they'd misquote me like that." Niall laughs, but stops when Harry just continues frowning. "Harry, it's just gossip to sell papers." He shrugs. "A little romantic upheaval to go with the Sunday roast is all."

Harry sighs. It shouldn't matter. It's not the first rumored breakup he and Nick have even had in the two months they've been doing this, but as Harry has actually been avoiding Nick's flat this time, it feels worse. "Yeah. Soz." Harry stares at the newspaper for a few more seconds until Niall reaches down and pulls it away.

"I brought it over as a laugh, didn't expect you to go all maudlin." Niall drops the paper down behind him and Harry hears the pages rustle as they settle against the floor. Niall kicks out again, gentler this time, just tapping Harry's elbow with the tip of his trainer. "What's the matter?"

Harry stares at his hands in his lap and then shrugs. "This was like, a terrible idea, yeah?"

Niall scoffs. "Little late for that question." He's silent and Harry looks up at him. He smiles, carefully like they've just been given bad news about something and shrugs. "You could just tell him."

This has always been Niall's position. Harry's tried to explain that he feels like his entire world is about to implode if he even thinks about telling Nick. About the incredibly sweet way he'd let him down easy and then the distance they'd put in their friendship, the awkwardness that would grow up in all the spaces where Harry's feelings change the way they are. Niall's argument is that no matter how Nick feels, there's no way Harry's feelings don't already change things. Harry's starting to see Niall's point, but he still doesn't think he can tell Nick. Can't picture the conversation, any time he thinks about it he feels the sudden urge to be collapsed on the patio of his house in L.A. with the sun wrapped around him and Nick safely thousands of miles away.

Harry sighs. "I'm a coward, Niall. Can't do it. Can't risk it."

"What human has ever rejected you anyway?" Niall wraps a hand around Harry's neck, massages lightly at the top of his spine. "Think you're wrong about all of it."

Harry's actually pretty sure that Nick might be up for it, because Harry's fit and Nick's usually up for it. He remembers the night out in the club when he's sure Nick almost kissed him for real and not for the cameras. Except all of that, the idea of hooking up with Nick, is almost worse because that's half of what he wants and it's just another way to make things awkward. And when Nick gets bored with that or finds someone else, Harry's not sure where that would leave them. He's not sure he could recover. Which really, he thinks as he tips his neck forward to let Niall press a bit harder, is nearly exactly where he's ended up anyway. So he just grunts a little and Niall squeezes his shoulder as he pulls his hand away.

"Not to be heartless, Harry, but if you won't tell him, you've got to just play it out the way you planned." Niall stands up and reaches down to pull Harry along. "No more moping around at your sister's. You never could've talked anyone else into being your fake boyfriend, so don't ruin it by helping the tabloids call him a slag."

"I thought you just brought the paper for a laugh?" Harry says as he stands and falls against Niall in a hug. Niall just hums in his ear and slaps his ass as he pulls away. Harry's missed Niall's almost invisible meddling.

"Back in two," Niall says before setting off at a run to collapse on top of Louis on the couch across the room.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Harry turns his back on the scuffle starting and pulls his phone out again. Ed's responded, but Harry thumbs to Nick's and types out meeting after rehearsal. should be home for tea before heading back to work. It feels like a small weight has been lifted off his chest for the moment and he kindly avoids punching Niall's dick for the rest of the day in thanks.

The rest of rehearsal goes smoothly, no more injuries and they finally get the bridge on Louis and Liam's new song right. The meeting isn't very long, so Harry's back at Nick's flat a bit earlier than he expected. He walks in and something settles, more weight lifting. Avoiding this place was probably not the solution.

Nick groans when Harry falls on the sofa but immediately slides over to pull Harry's legs over his lap and wrap his fingers around Harry's ankle, so he's probably not really annoyed. Harry's not exactly bothered either, but all he can think about is the press of Nick's fingers against the sharp bone of Harry's ankle. Niall's advice and the slight easing of the tightness in his chest aside, he feels the now too-familiar split desire either to pull his foot away and run or to bend himself in half and kiss Nick breathless. But he calms himself instead, presses the still invisible bruise on his arm, thinks of yoga in the morning and the hazy pink of an L.A. sunrise.

"Too used to having you around, Harold. You're gone three days and it feels like an age. Used to be I only saw you once in a blue moon anyway." Harry doesn't respond and Nick fidgets a little and presses the mute button on the remote. "How was the meeting, then?"

Harry shrugs, "Fine. Usual album launch stuff." It always feels too early to start planning these things but Harry knows once it starts happening it'll be all a rush and the advance planning will be key. He looks at Nick's long fingers where they disappear under Harry's foot and wishes he'd remembered that before rushing into this.

Nick presses his thumb into Harry's ankle and stares at Nigella on the screen like he's trying to read her lips. Harry's tired enough that since he'd really prefer Nick be looking at him, he squirms a little, but Nick doesn't turn.

"And the plan for us, then?"

"For us?" Harry waits a second and then kicks his foot a bit. "Nick?"

"Our amicable break-up plan, like." Nick frowns and finally looks at Harry. "It's got to be amicable, right? I can't fake not being friends next."

Harry laughs, but it feels like dust in his throat. "Nick, obviously." The idea of not being friends with Nick, even if it's fake, is not something Harry has ever considered.

Nick smiles, relaxes. "Though it could be fun to talk trash about you on radio."

"You do that now."

Nick presses his free hand to his chest. "Tell the whole nation how beloved pop icon Harry Styles broke my poor old heart into pieces with his scoundrel ways."

Harry doesn't think that breaking Nick's heart would be good for his image or be okay with his team, but what he says is, "How do you know it won't be you who'll break my heart?" It's a little too close to real to actually say with the smile he has on, but that's his life now.

Nick scoffs. "Because no one will believe that, Harry."

Harry slaps at Nick's arm in reproach and Nick reaches to stop him, but instead of pushing Harry away, he curls his hand over Harry's and rests them both against Harry's leg.

"Saw the Sunday paper, Grimshaw, so I think you're wrong. Everyone believes you could break my heart. I am much younger and very vulnerable." Nick sits very still and Harry stares at their hands for a second before returning to the original question. "Anyway, I don't know." Nick raises his eyebrows. "I mean, that's a different team - Karen and them, not the label. And I think, they said they have some options, when we started, but we haven't talked about it."

Nick squeezes Harry's ankle and then his hand before releasing both. "To be discussed, then."

Harry nods and watches Nick's hands that are no longer touching him, one reaching back for the remote, the other down to the floor to find Pig.

"More importantly, what are you making me for my tea? All this Nigella has me proper starving and I intend to take advantage of these fake boyfriend taxes while I can."

Harry laughs and nods his head at the telly, the sound flooding back as Nick unmutes. "What's she making, then? Reckon I could do the same."

Nick frowns and then tips his head to look at Harry, wide-eyed. "Been watching this whole time and you know, I have no idea."

When Harry finishes laughing, pressing himself closer against Nick than he probably needs to or should, he stands up and heads to the kitchen to see what they even have in. He ends up doing a spag bol because Nick's eyes light up and he presses against Harry's back in a hug at the idea of all the carbs and really, despite everything, Nick isn't the only one taking advantage of the situation while he can.

**

It's starting to get dark, so it's not until Harry's stood at the door trying to figure out how Pig got out alone that he sees Nick. He's sitting back in a lounger, one leg pulled up with a half-filled glass resting on his knee. There's a hole there, as usual, and Harry imagines the glass is cold against Nick's skin. He stands there watching long enough that it's probably creepy, but Nick never looks over, just stares into the half-dark sky. Eventually Harry glances back at Pig and realizes she's eating the grass in the far corner that always makes her sick, so he pushes the door open.

"Pig, leave it."

Nick looks up at Harry, tips his head towards Pig and then back at the sky. "She's fine."

Harry scoffs. "She won't be when she's sick all over another one of your Gucci shirts." Nick shrugs and takes a sip, his slight wince suggesting it's vodka rather than water. "If I'm remembering correctly, last time I said it wasn't a big deal and you went on a tear about how it wasn't funny and we're not all getting sent designer shirts by the boatload or drowning in the hard-won cash of teenage girls and we can't all be replacing our clothes because no one can train a stubborn dog not to eat bloody grass when she's being given the most expensive dog food in all of Britain." Harry smiles at the memory, how Nick lost steam for the rant half-way through in favor of singing along to some terrible song on the radio. "All while driving a completely absurd Mercedes truck around Hackney."

In the dim light, Harry can make out Nick's hand tightening on his glass as he says, "Okay, Harold, we all get that I'm ridiculous." It doesn't sound like a joke the way it should. He sits up a little. "Pig, here." Pig scampers over and presses her face against Nick's thigh.

Harry leans back against the doorframe, not quite sure what's got Nick in a mood. "I didn't mean." He pauses as Nick finishes his drink and swings his feet to the ground. "It was just funny."

Nick nods as he stands up and moves towards Harry. He stops a few steps away from him, after a few seconds waves his hand to indicate he wants to get past. Harry hesitates, but turns back inside and away from the door so Nick and Pig can follow him in. Nick goes directly to the kitchen and then comes out without his glass, scrolling through his phone as he walks towards the bedroom.

Pig stops in the hallway, head tipping between the direction Nick went and Harry, tail wagging. Finally she turns and follows Nick and Harry shrugs and does the same. In the bedroom, Nick has changed into tighter jeans, spread a handful of shirts spread across the bed, and is pulling at his hair in the mirror, frowning.

Harry keeps his voice light and asks, "Going out, then?"

Nick glances at Harry's reflection and Harry thinks of those paintings of a mirror in a mirror in a mirror and on forever. Nick's face is completely blank and that definitely means he's upset about something. He nods and goes back to his hair.

It's important to Harry that he not sound like a jealous boyfriend in a episode of Skins, so he takes a quick breath. "Thought we were getting dinner in." He's pretty happy with how flat it sounds, but Nick's reflection is rolling its eyes. "I mean, it's fine, you just said you were craving a curry."

"Of course it's fine." Nick sweeps his fingers through his fringe again and leaves it to spin around and level Harry with a cold glare. It's not a look Harry has seen directed at him many times. "I can go out if I want. Just like you can. With whoever we want." Nick keeps staring and Harry squints back in confusion until Nick shakes his head and turns to the shirts.

"Uh. Yeah. That's what I said." Harry pulls at the hem of his t-shirt. "Nick, what's wrong?"

"You know, in principle, I don't care if you need to get off in a club loo or sommat - god knows I'm not enjoying not getting laid so we can pretend to be exclusively loved up for this farce- but someone besides Daisy might cotton on if you can't be more discreet about it." Nick picks up a blue and green print shirt and pulls it on, starting to do up the buttons.

"What are you talking about?"

Nick looks up, one eyebrow raised. "Haz."

"Am I supposed to-. I don't know what she said." Harry frowns. He saw Daisy the night before when he was out with Jack and James. He tries to figure out what she could have seen that lead to this. "I didn't get off anywhere. I'm not stupid. I haven't with anyone, since we. It didn't seem fair. Or smart." He obviously doesn't mention that he hasn't really wanted to get off with anyone who isn't Nick.

Nick hesitates, staring, biting his bottom lip. He shrugs and goes back to the buttons. "Barely the point. Daisy thought you and some girl were coming out of the bathroom together. And you know what it's going to look like if the tabs have you cheating on me. With a girl?" He holds up a hand before Harry can say anything. "I know that's not fair, but it's true, it's somehow worse." Nick's finished with the buttons and he seems a bit at a loss, lips twisted down and his fingers twitching at the air near his waist. "Or, I mean, it'll look worse. I just. I don't know what the plan is, but I don't want to look stupid, okay? I just. It's too much on top of it all."

Harry doesn't ask why Daisy is rushing to tattle to Nick when she didn't even give him more than a cursory wave across the club, doesn't point out that there are no paps scoping out the loo at Shoreditch House, and doesn't try to defend himself. Nick's voice is shaking a little and Harry feels like he's kicked someone's dog by accident.

He holds up both hands. "There's no plan yet. But you won't look stupid." He steps one slow step towards Nick but stops when Nick backs up against the bed. "Hey, I wouldn't. You know. I know this is a big deal and I don't want to do anything that makes it hard for you." Nick scoffs a little. "Harder. I'm sorry, okay? I get it and I don't know what Daisy saw but I'll be more careful."

Nick inhales and shrugs one shoulder. "'Kay." He sweeps the remaining shirts from the bed into a pile on the chair in the corner. "Fine, thanks." He snaps a watch on his wrist and makes a wide arc around Harry as he leaves the room. "I'll text if I'm not coming back."

Harry stands still in the bedroom, listens to the door shut too hard, to Pig's quiet whine and light scratching at the door. He frowns and stands there trying very carefully not to think of all the reasons Nick might stay somewhere other than his own bed until Pig finally wanders back into the bedroom and noses at Harry's ankles, still whining a little. He thinks they feel about the same, but instead of wallowing, Harry starts to move again.

He hangs up the discarded shirts and cleans the bedroom, changing the sheets and putting the wash in. When that's done he grills chicken and makes a salad for his tea. After, he cleans the kitchen and the lounge before settling down with a brew and the queasy feeling in his stomach. Instead of checking instagram or twitter to try to figure out where Nick's gone, he sends a quick email to Karen asking for a media update and then flips through Netflix for twenty minutes without picking anything to watch. He breaks then and pulls out his phone. Nick hasn't posted anything, but there's a shot on Ian's instagram from an hour ago of Nick and Aimee tucked together in a red leather booth, empty cocktails on the table between them. Harry feels guilty for feeling better that Nick is out with his friends and not a guy. Harry has somehow avoided thinking about how hard it might be for Nick not to date while they're doing this, probably because it's not hard for Harry at all and he's a selfish twat.

Harry sighs and drops his phone to his lap. "Pig," he calls and she appears in the door and makes her way over to the sofa. "I'm terrible, aren't I?"

Pig stands up on her back legs and stretches up to rest on Harry's thigh. Her eyes seem sadder than usual and Harry shakes his head at himself before pulling her up next to him. He pets her and finally settles on a documentary about African gorillas. Not the best choice because it turns out one of them dies, so Harry's a bit of a teary mess when his phone rings. He pauses the movie and sniffs hard before answering.

"Y'alright Aimee?"

"Where are you?" she responds.

"Home." Harry sniffs again and he tries to listen for Nick's voice in the background. "Nick's."

Nick once told Harry that Aimee was the only person he knew who could actually express herself fully in just sighs and nothing Harry has ever heard is so clearly the sound of disappointment as the exhalation against his ear now.

"Right," she says, drawing out the flat 'i' sound. "We've put him in a car since he refused to stay here and upset you." Harry frowns and looks at the clock, surprised it's already midnight. "Are you capable of getting him to bed without ruining his life?"

"Aimee, look, whatever Daisy said, I wasn't--"

"Just text me when he gets there, Harry."

And Aimee's gone, so Harry abandons his phone and the unfinished film to gather up a glass of water and some paracetamol and the herbal supplements Glenne sent him that she swears by for preventing a hangover. He sets them all on the bathroom counter and debates if it's too weird to put toothpaste on Nick's toothbrush. He doesn't, ultimately, because he hears Pig going for the door, so he follows and opens it, Nick nearly falling into him, his fingers wrapping around Harry's elbow instinctively.

"Harold." Nick's voice is slurred, but he sounds happier than when he left. Not that that would be hard, Harry thinks and feels like a jerk again. "I'm home."

Harry chuckles and pulls Nick fully in so he can shut the door. "You are. I'm glad," Harry says and Nick frowns a little. "I mean, Aimee seemed to be worried you wouldn't make it."

"Oh. Aimee was worried." Nick nods several times in quick succession. "Yes, Aimee." He laughs and steps out of his shoes. In the lounge he looks around. "You cleaned." He turns back to Harry. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Harry rolls his eyes. He doesn't only clean when something's wrong. But. "You were mad at me." He stumbles a bit over the past tense.

Nick waves his hand through the air, eyes wide. "No, no. It's fine. I'm not." He shrugs and frowns around the room. "That wasn't fair, I was being a wanker."

"No, I am. It's okay. I'm sorry." Harry pushes against Nick's shoulder and points with his chin towards the bedroom. Nick moves obediently. "I do need to be more careful, you're giving up a lot to help me so not being a dick is probably the least I can do."

Nick shrugs again and Harry feels it against his hand where he's guiding him as they walk down the hall. "I'm not giving up. It's okay."

Harry squeezes Nick's shoulder and gets him in the bathroom where he drinks the water and takes the pills before cleaning his teeth. "Still."

Nick leans forward and wraps his arms around Harry, pressing tight and breathing softly against Harry's neck. Harry tries not to breathe. "Thank you for cleaning." When he pulls back, he's grinning and Harry can see Nick's left a smear of toothpaste on Harry's t-shirt front, but he smiles too and goes to find his phone and text Aimee.

**

"Didja know it's our three-month anniversary?" Nick nods his thanks as Harry slides a plate of salad in front of him on the table. He waves his phone at Harry. "People has a whole thing about it on Snapchat."

Harry frowns as he sits down. "There are magazines on Snapchat?" He takes a bite and his frown deepens. Too much lemon. He waits for Nick to try it, but he just turns his phone around to show Harry the screen. Everything We Know about Harry and Nick Grimshaw's Relationship. "Weird."

Nick turns the phone back and slides his finger across the screen. "They're saying it's three months since the fashion thing, although they don't think that's our actual anniversary." Nick looks up again. "When did we actually start dating, again?"

Harry shrugs. "Didn't really say, did we? Think Karen's people confirmed it had been a few months."

"So maybe our six month fake anniversary, then." Nick hums a bit and then is quiet as he reads through the article.

"Nick, eat," Harry finally says, not sure if he's annoyed at Nick or the phone or the article. He's probably annoyed at the entire thing, if he really lets himself think about it.

Nick levels Harry with a studious look and finally shrugs, putting down his phone and tucking into the salad. "It's good." He waves his fork in the air, a piece of kale dislodging and falling to the floor. "Lemony."

Harry watches as Pig sniffs at the kale and then wanders away. He actually did know it was three months because Karen sent him an email the day before about planting break-up rumors during tour and she mentioned the timeline, but he's been trying not to think about it. They eat their salads in silence, Nick looking at his phone about every two minutes. Harry's usually the same, so it shouldn't bother him, but he feels irritable, so he gives up on the salad and gets up, scraping the leftovers into the bin.

He turns back around to Nick standing behind him, his own empty plate held between them and one eyebrow raised. "You can't be in a strop on our fakiversary." He reaches behind Harry to place the plate in the sink. "In fact, you should probably be taking me out to celebrate."

The idea of going out seems exhausting, so Harry opens his mouth to say he's too tired and they both have work in the morning, but Nick covers his mouth with three fingers. Harry does not open wider to pull them into his mouth, just stands still and waits.

"No. Whatever you were going to say, just no." Nick taps one fingertip against Harry's upper lip. "You've been out of sorts all day, but you're leaving in less than two weeks, so you have to be nice while you're here. I'll put in on the list if I have to, but it'll be more fun if you actually want to celebrate." Nick pouts a little and slowly drags his fingers across Harry's mouth before dropping his hand back to his side.

Harry laughs and shakes his head. Even a day long fit of temper isn't a match for his innate desire to make Nick happy, so he shrugs. "Okay, what do you want to do? Dinner later? Just drinks? Is there any gig on you want to go to?"

Nick quirks his lips a bit, thinking. "Not sure I want to go out and get papped and all."

Harry nods, slightly relieved. "Send out some messages, have a party, then? I've seen you create one with less notice. I can make fairy cakes or summat and we have so much wine."

Nick reaches for his phone and his hands track around the screen as he skims through apps or messages. He frowns down at it and then shoves it in his back pocket. "No one's up for anything on a weeknight." Harry raises his eyebrows. He's never met people as up for a weeknight do as Nick's friends, but then Harry hasn't really seen much of them since he's been back, so maybe that's changed. Nick shrugs and he's still frowning when he says, "Let's just have our own party. That's a proper anniversary celebration, right?"

Harry laughs. "How is that different than what we do most nights?"

"It just will be. I'll get fancier takeaway. We can wear something other than trackkies. We'll drink too much and dance around the garden." Nick's smiling at Harry, but he still somehow looks a little sad. "It doesn't matter, really, so we can do whatever."

They haven't argued again since the night Nick went out with Aimee and Ian, but Nick's been on edge and unusually quiet. Combined with Harry's general sense of unease, it's left Harry worrying even more that this is all too much, so he bumps his hip against Nick's and nods again. "Whatever you want, Grimmy."

Nick wanders off to make a playlist and Harry pulls out his iPad and searches through cake recipes, finally settling on something that sounds like it'll taste like almond croissants and won't require a trip to the shops. He's just put it in the oven when Nick comes back in shorts, Pig's lead in one hand.

"What're you up to?" He cocks his head and points toward the oven.

"You said a celebration and a celebration requires a pudding." Harry starts the timer on his phone and sets it on the counter. "Taking Pig out?"

"Thought a run might tire her out so she'll let us alone tonight, not be underfoot. I'll pick up food, too." Nick shakes the lead a bit and Pig comes trotting in. He gets her attached and stands again. "You'll be here for a bit, then?"

Harry points at the oven and nods. "Don't want to burn our house down." Harry forces himself not to grimace when he realizes what he said.

Nick blinks quickly and then nods, pulling Pig toward the door. "Right, right. Be back soon," he says over his shoulder as he heads out.

While Nick's gone, Harry takes a shower and pulls on jeans and a nice shirt, remembering what Nick said about not wearing trackkies. He lets the cake cool and dusts it with icing sugar, setting it on a cake stand that Nick probably bought only for decoration. For lack of anything better to do, he opens a bottle of wine someone sent over as a thank-you for something Harry doesn't remember doing and takes it out in the garden, watching the sun set and not letting his thoughts turn to the break-up. He's finished half the bottle when the door opens and Pig comes rushing to nose at Harry's feet. Nick's just behind, looking freshly showered and changed. He sits down on the brick wall across from Harry's lounger.

"Cake looks lovely." He holds his glass out and Harry pours him some wine. Nick studies Harry for a few seconds, head tipped to the side, damp hair leaving a bit of water against his t-shirt. Then he holds up his glass. "Happy fake anniversary, Harry Styles."

Harry clinks his glass against Nick's and pastes on a smile. "Thank you for doing this."

Nick shrugs and gulps down half his glass. "It's been fun." He stares up at the sky, nearly dark now. "Nice having you around for a bit, wasn't it?"

Pig barks as if in agreement and Harry shifts on the lounger, pressing his hand to Nick's knee. "Nice to be around." After a second, he pulls away. "Good run?"

Nick starts laughing and of course there's a story. Nick was only gone an hour or so, but for Nick there's no time too short for something remarkable to happen, this time something about Pig getting away and lost in the marsh and Nick having to beg some charming twenty-something to help find her. Harry is absolutely certain that the bloke in the story was flirting with Nick and it makes his chest clutch a little, but he's supposed to be used to that so he forces it down and reaches for more wine. They finish the story and then the bottle and Nick gets up to turn on the lights strung across the garden. Harry gets more wine and they set up the Greek food Nick's brought back, tossing a bone out to Pig to keep her distracted from eating grass. When they're sat at the table, Harry looks around and it actually does look proper festive out there, soft cheerful music floating out of the speakers and Nick's lips already red from the wine. Harry remembers that this entire thing was supposed to be fun so he decides to stop being a brat and enjoy himself and by the time they're on to the cake, he actually is.

"Is this just a cake-sized almond croissant?" Nick asks, fork hanging in the air after his first bite.

Harry shrugs and waves his hand around a bit. "Sort of? I tried to find something with that flavor profile."

Nick grins but doesn't roll his eyes at flavor profile and shovels in another bite. "It's amazing." He proves he really means it by finishing his own piece and half of Harry's before heading inside for more wine.

Harry starts to clear the plates, but Nick comes out and bats his hand away. "No cleaning when we're having a party, Harold."

Another bottle of wine gone and Nick's up and dancing across the garden, the music changing to faster songs as if everything was perfectly timed out in advance. Harry leans back in his chair, everything slightly blurred around the edges from the fairy lights and the wine. He bobs his head lightly and watches Nick's hips sway, Pig twining around his feet precariously. He's spinning around, wine glass raised above his head to something Harry thinks is Tinashe when Pig finally catches him up.

"Oh, fuck," he shouts as he tips. Harry's up before Nick actually falls and half catches him, Nick's wine spilling down Harry's shirt front, Nick splayed along Harry's side as they stumble back until Harry's legs hit the edge of his chair again. Nick doesn't stand straight once they're stopped, though. He tips his head against Harry's shoulder and looks up into his face, eyes wide.

"My hero," he says finally, laughing breathlessly.

Harry's heart is pounding in his chest, adrenaline leaving him feeling dizzy. It's not as though Nick would have been seriously injured tripping in the garden, but Harry's fight or flight instinct doesn't know that, just like his wine soaked brain is having trouble remembering that Nick pressing against him isn't going to lead to anything. He stands there trying to process that, half-shaking, holding Nick up with wine dripping down his chest.

After a few seconds, Nick moves and Harry thinks he's going to stand up, pull away, break the moment, but all he does is lean away just a bit to set the empty glass down. He adjusts then and stares down at Harry, eyebrows furrowed. He closes them for a second and when he opens them again, he's grinning. "Harry."

Harry inhales deeply, as if he had stopped doing it without realizing, and both he and Nick move at the same time. Harry readjusts Nick against him and Nick pushes back and down until Harry is sitting on the chair, Nick straddled across his thighs. After all this time Harry feels like he should be paying closer attention, but one second they're looking at each other and the next Nick is kissing him and Harry cannot actually remember how it happened. Nick is licking at his lips, though, pushing for entry, so Harry stops trying to remember and lets Nick in, pushes up a little to kiss him back. He's supporting Nick with two hands around his lower back and he slides them underneath Nick's shirt, the skin there soft and warm. Nick is grinding down on Harry's lap, laughing into his mouth and tangling his hands through Harry's hair. It all feels incredible, but too urgent and Harry tries to slow the pace a little, drawing out the kiss, pulling back and mouthing his way across Nick's scratchy jaw and down into his neck, the smell of his cologne overpowered by the thick scent of the wine that's now soaked through both of their shirts.

Nick slides his hand between them and under Harry's shirt, pulling his hands out and pressing a wine-coated finger between Harry's lips. Harry grins and sucks it in, biting lightly as he lets go and returns his attention to the hollows at the base of Nick's throat. Nick tips his head to let Harry in, hands scrabbling at Harry's chest until the shirt is unbuttoned and he can push it back. Nick pulls his neck away from Harry and he starts to pout and pull him back, but then Nick is twisting to press his lips to Harry's neck and then down his chest, light kisses followed by shiver-inducing scrapes of his teeth across Harry's skin. Harry starts when Nick bites down over his pec, his hands pulling off Nick's hips and Nick teeters a little without Harry supporting him and Harry uses the momentum to pull him back up and they settle into kissing again, Nick's hands tracing random patterns over Harry's bare chest.

Harry doesn't know how long they're sat like that, kissing, but when the music stops, he pulls back a little bit and stares at Nick's too-close face. Nick's slow blink as Harry pulls away and the soft whine of protest low in his throat makes Harry feel more drunk than anything they've had to drink. He knows he should push Nick away, they should stop and get water and let all of this be a funny story they can laugh about later, but Harry wants so much, has wanted all of this for so long that he can't make himself do it. He thinks of Niall's advice and he thinks about how this entire charade has been a terrible choice and he realizes that at this point it's too late to keep everything normal, so there's no point in turning back. He pulls Nick in again, kisses him, but then Nick's pulling away.

"Nick," Harry starts to protest, but then Nick is cocking one eyebrow and sliding off Harry's lap, pushing his knees apart to slide between them and reaching for Harry's zipper.

"Yes?" Nick doesn't wait for an answer before undoing the zipper and reaching for Harry's cock, slipping it out into the slightly cool evening air. He grins up at Harry and hesitates for just a second until Harry nods.

Nick's licking slowly along Harry's cock, hands pulling at his pants and jeans to give him more access to Harry's skin and Harry barely has the presence of mind to raise his hips a little and let Nick slide the fabric over them. The metal chair is uncomfortable against the backs of his thighs, but that sensation is quickly erased as Nick opens his mouth and takes Harry in, moving slowly over his cock. Harry has to remind himself to keep breathing, in and out, in and out and when Nick pulls off, kissing back up Harry's chest and using his hand to stroke Harry, he stutters out a long exhale and says, "Nick, wait."

Nick looks up, grinning and squeezes a little. "Wait?" Harry nods. "For what? You seem pretty ready to me."

"Nick, I--" Harry isn't sure what to say or how he should say it. This whole series of lies was supposed to get to the truth, but he feels like if this happens and Nick doesn't understand what it means to Harry then that will be the worst lie of all. So Harry stares down at Nick, trying to find the words and after a few seconds, Nick moves his hand and sits back on his knees. He's not smiling anymore and Harry's brain is confused by the change in sensation and he still can't figure out what to say. "I just think that you should. You should know how I feel, okay?"

Nick's not-a-smile falls into an actual frown. "How you feel? About this?"

Harry nods and tries to sit up a little, his prick slapping against his skin uncomfortably. "I don't want to lie about it. You know? Like, we could have done this, before, at the club, or you know. Before?" Harry squints, trying to get the words right and Nick nods a little. "But I didn't want to lie about it, about why. Like, we're too important for that. So, I want to do this." Harry glances down at Nick's lips, red from wine and kissing and Harry's cock. "I really do and it's okay if we don't feel the same about everything, but I need you to get how I feel. Before we do. Okay?"

Nick is breathing fast, like Niall when he used to hyperventilate at the crowds and Harry reaches down to press his hand against Nick's chest, to help calm him down. But Nick flinches, pulls back from Harry's hand. "Okay?" Nick asks, his voice is low and rough.

Harry's hand is hovering in the space between them and he's not sure what happened, but he can tell he fucked up. "I guess, like. When I called you but I don't remember? I still feel that way and I just don't want you to do this if you don't know that."

Nick's face is resettling, blank, lips straight and he blinks up at Harry a few times before nodding. "Yeah. Okay." Nick stands up and takes a step back. "Right, I know. I mean. Thanks. For being honest, I guess." He presses a hand to his abdomen as if willing his breathing to slow down and after a few seconds it does.

"Nick, I don't." Now that's Nick's a little further away, Harry has some of his bearings back. He feels overwhelmingly sober. "So, you'd rather not, um. If that's how I feel?" Harry has always known this was a possibility, it's always been there at the bottom of why he never said anything. The sad look on Nick's face, the careful way he leans forward and presses a light kiss to the top of Harry's head. It's exactly what Harry knew would happen because Nick's up for a shag with a friend, but Nick's not in love with Harry and he wouldn't take advantage.

"I think it's probably not a good idea, love." Nick's voice is soft against Harry's ear. He pulls back and smiles down. "I mean, there's a reason we haven't slipped up and shagged before now, right?"

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, wills himself not to cry even though his eyes feel like they're two seconds away from a dam breaking. "Yeah, I. Probably."

Nick turns and walks to the table, picks up the stack of dishes Harry started earlier. "I'll just clean these and then, um." There's silence and when Harry turns his head Nick's stood there staring off into space. He doesn't finish his sentence, just heads back into the house, Pig at his heels.

Harry presses his hand against his eyes, blinks back the wetness there and then gets his jeans back on and zipped up. He sits in the garden alone, goes through the night and tries not to re-imagine it all going another way, tries to convince himself that he did the right thing, that this was always how it was going to play out and that it's better that it's happened so now they can start to fix whatever Harry and his stupid plan has broken. At one point he hears the door open and Nick's quiet cough, but Harry doesn't move to look at him. Tomorrow he'll talk to Nick, tomorrow everything will be fine, but tonight he just needs to sit here and let go of the last bit of hope he had that maybe this all could have worked out like Harry really wanted, that Nick would have felt the same way.

After a minute Nick says, "Goodnight" and whispers something Harry can't make out, but before he can decide if he wants to know, the door clicks closed again. Pig comes tottering across the garden and sprawls across Harry's feet and he does let himself cry at that. Just a little.

**

It's Saturday, but neither of them is in the mood to go to a party. It's for Henry, though, and Nick always rallies for his friends. They haven't talked again since the other night; Nick clearly doesn't want to bring it up, he's being unusually quiet in general and Harry's unwilling to do anything that makes either of them feel worse. So Harry just nods when Nick says they should get ready, throws on his skinny jeans and one of Nick's House of Holland shirts and follows Nick to the car. The party's in an old house, the rooms warm with dark oak and fires lit in all the fireplaces. If Harry were in a better mood, it would be cozy and fun. They press into a group with Aimee and Ian and the rest and Harry tries not to notice how Nick makes sure there's always at least one person in between them. When Nick excuses himself to use the loo and Harry follows, he can feel Nick's annoyance like it's a physical thing.

Harry hesitates outside the toilets can tell it isn't a good idea to follow Nick in. "I'll just get us more drinks, yeah?" Harry's voice is barely loud enough to be heard over the music, but Nick nods before pushing through the door.

The line at the bar is surprisingly quick and Harry's headed back, not sure if he should try to find Nick where he left him or back with the group. He decides on the latter and he's in the small corridor back to where they were when he hears Nick's voice from a room around the corner. He stops and turns, approaching an open door carefully, not sure if he wants Nick to see him or not. When he gets to the door, he peeks inside and is surprised to see Nick talking to Charles, Fashion Man of the Year, who Harry has barely thought of since he started this entire thing. Harry feels like he should back away, but Nick is flushed and looks upset and Harry's instincts to protect him keep him from leaving, so he stands there, hoping he's hidden from view.

"Right, obviously," Nick is saying, clearly angry.

"Nick I wasn't trying to ruin his career," Charles replies. His voice is calm, but his eyes are pleading. "Don't be so extreme. I didn't know it was a secret. I'm barely aware of anything about pop stars, let alone who knows what about their sexuality."

"It never crossed your mind that it might be better to use discretion?" Nick raises his eyebrow, voice sharp and Charles flinches. Harry can tell it did and Nick can as well. "Exactly. I don't know what I did that you want to sabotage my fri--"

Charles puts his hand forward like he's reaching for Nick and Harry bristles, but Charles stops short. "I wasn't." Harry can see Nick's eye roll from the door. "Look, I'm not an idiot. It occurred to me that he might not be out, but I'm also not an asshole. I didn't want to ruin anything, I just don't think it's fair to you to let some twink popstar put his career before you."

Harry blinks and he can tell from the set of Nick's shoulders that he's surprised too.

Nick recovers quickly, though. "Besides that being none of your business, if that really was the case-" Nick pauses and Charles frowns. "Which is wasn't. It isn't- Harry isn't like that. But if it were, why would you think the better option would be for him to be emotionally manipulated into something?"

Harry feels a rush of appreciation that Nick's defending him after everything.

Charles runs his hand over the back of his neck. "Was he even upset? You must be right about him because he seems fine with everything." He frowns. "I saw his interview and he looked happy, actually."

Nick sighs. "Again, not your business." Nick's face is drawn tight and even though things are hopelessly awkward between them right now, Harry wants to storm in and pull him away from this, make him laugh, forget all of this happened. He stays still, though, waits.

"I know you don't believe me and I get that's my fault, but all I can tell you is I wasn't trying to hurt you. I saw him with you and he's clearly gone for you."

Nick's only reaction is to cross his arms over his waist, but Harry's chest tightens and he sucks in a breath. It feels like someone's reading his diary aloud. He knows it was supposed to look that way, that Nick shouldn't think anything of it, but after what happened, after what Harry said and how Nick reacted, Harry doesn't want anything to remind Nick that Harry feels more than he's supposed to.

"So I overstepped," Charles continues. "And I'm sorry, but I just thought you should get to have that. For real." Nick takes a step back and Harry can't read the expression that settles on his face. "Maybe I thought I could make up for before."

Charles's mouth stays open like he has more to say, but then he shrugs, steps back. "Bye Grim," he says more to the wall than to Nick. Nick turns away, face to the fire, and doesn't watch him leave.

Harry steps back, moves to duck around the corner before Charles sees him at the door, but he's a beat too late and Charles stops, stares at him. He looks back into the room and Harry can't see now, but he doubts Nick is looking in this direction. Harry stares at Charles, waiting, but Charles doesn't say anything, just smiles a ghost of a sad smile and raises his eyebrows before heading in the other direction.

Harry backs up towards the room with the bar and waits until Nick is in the corridor before stepping out again. "Oh, there you are," he says taking two long steps to catch up to Nick.

He puts on his best boyfriend smile and hands Nick his drink, hopes he doesn't notice how much the ice has melted while Harry's been eavesdropping. But Nick just nods his thanks, takes the glass carefully without so much as brushing Harry's fingers and leads them back to the group, Pixie and Daisy both slotted in between them, and Harry credits years of media training for his ability to pretend it doesn't hurt.

**

Originally, they were going to wait until after the album launch, but after their disaster of a fake anniversary, Harry thinks earlier might be better. Charles's overheard words keep running through his head - "he's gone for you" and "he looked happy, actually" and especially "have that for real." As much as Harry hates him, Charles is right - Nick should have something real and Harry isn't that, but it's all starting to bleed around the edges until Harry can't tell what's supposed to be real and what's just in his head. And Nick is always out - at work or with friends. Two nights in a row he didn't come home, said he was just at Aimee's and Harry doesn't think he's lying, but it feels like things are coming apart at the seams and he's worried if he waits any longer the fake break-up is going to become a real break-up. So, Karen makes a few tweaks to the plan and they have a call while Nick's at work.

"Just party a little bit in South America, make sure it gets papped and we'll need him to go out with someone at home - a date." Karen sounds like she's reading off her shopping list rather than taking tiny jabs at Harry's heart. He figures that's why he pays her though, so he just curls his toes into Nick's duvet and hums his agreement. "When the rumors start, we'll confirm with a short statement - I'll send it to you and to Mr. Grimshaw's publicist for approval first, of course."

Harry shrugs, "Nick's people, yeah, but Jeff can approve for me. I'll be busy on tour."

The click of a keyboard is loud near the speakerphone in L.A. "Perfect." Jeff coughs and there's a few seconds of dead air before Karen comes back. "You won't have to do a separate interview, but we'll place some questions in a few of the phoners you'll be doing anyway. It's America, so they won't really be about Mr. Grimshaw, just general break-up stuff, you should be able to handle it, but if you want them, I'll have answers ready."

"I think Harry's got the post-breakup ramble down," Jeff's joking, but there's no humor in his voice. Harry wonders if Jeff always knew this would be this bad. "Right, H?"

"Course." He feels like he should be participating in this more, but he'd really rather just go back to sleep. "Can you just put all of Nick's parts, everything he needs to know or that we're asking him to do in an email? To him and his publicist and whoever else we've pulled into this?" Harry pushes his fringe over his forehead and then back and pulls the duvet up almost over his face. "Anything he doesn't want to do, we work around."

"Well," Karen starts.

Jeff interrupts with, "Yeah, will do."

More dead air and Harry rolls his eyes. Then Karen's back again, she sounds annoyed but all she says is, "Okay, we're good, then. I'll get everything set up and circle back."

Harry doesn't think to say "Thanks," until he's already heard the line click. "Fuck," he says, breathing hard against the phone.

"How bad is it?" Jeff's voice is quiet and Harry doesn't answer. "The label team didn't say anything about wanting to move this up, so I assume Nick asked?"

Harry shakes his head against the pillow and all the linen smells like Nick. Harry apparently hasn't left a mark at all, or maybe he's being dramatic and just doesn't notice his own shampoo. "He didn't." Harry remembers the way Nick looked at him after the party on Saturday, after Charles left. He looked so tired. "I'm just tired of it. It's harder than I thought."

"It'll be good to have time away, maybe. Distract yourself and then you'll be back to the Grimmy and Harold show after it's all over." Jeff's entire job is to sound convincing and even he doesn't sound like that's true.

"At least I got the coming out over." He picks at his lower lip. "And the rest of this, it was probably going to happen eventually anyway, right?" Jeff doesn't answer and Harry nods. "'Kay, I gotta pack and get to rehearsal."

"Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks." Harry says and rings off, tossing his phone a little too hard onto the bed. It bounces away and Harry glares at it. He actually has hours before rehearsal, so he calls for Pig and pulls her up onto the bed before collapsing back and staring at the ceiling. "You'll take care of him for me, right, girl?"

Pig only noses against his shoulder in response.

Nick agrees to everything, of course. Harry's there when he reads the email, Nick settling into bed and Harry just home from a pre-tour dinner with Gemma. Harry thought Nick was going to come too, but he didn't show up and Harry doesn't mention it. Gemma raised her eyebrow when Harry explained to the hostess it would only be two for dinner, but she didn't ask, just held him a little tighter than usual and rubbed his back in small circles when they hugged goodbye.

Harry told Nick about the change of plans yesterday after rehearsal. He wanted to do it in person, but of course Nick had meetings he'd forgotten to tell Harry about that ran right until Harry had to leave, so they'd just had time to catch up quickly on the phone before Harry went out for drinks with the lads. He explained they were pushing the timeline up and it would align with One Direction's two weeks in South America like that was the reason and not because they both can't seem to look at one another anymore and Harry's terrified everything is ruined.

Nick just said, "Whatever you want, Haz" before he had to go.

They didn't talk about it again and now it's his last night in town and Harry's heading towards the shower when Nick says, "Oh, this is the grand plan, then?"

Harry stops but doesn't turn around, just tightens the towel around his waist. "Yeah, probably? I haven't seen it, but Karen said she'd send it." Harry tips his head to the side. "Look alright?"

There's a long enough pause that Harry finally turns to look at Nick, but he's just staring at his phone, reading, free hand fisted in the sheets. He frowns at one point, but then just nods. "Sure." Harry's already in the bath when he says, "Looks like we get to stay friends after all." Harry can't tell if it's supposed to be a joke and he feels like someone's kicking him in the chest.

Harry takes longer than he needs to in the shower, pulls at his hair and pokes at the spots on his face until he sees the light under the door go out. He steps back into the bedroom a minute later and grabs his last pair of pants, draped over his suitcase on top of the clothes he's wearing to the airport. He pulls them on and seriously considers sleeping on the sofa, but his gut twists at the idea of spending his last night here away from Nick, no matter how much it's going to hurt, so he quietly crawls into bed and pushes back towards Nick until he's close, but not too close. He stares out at the room, the blackness slowly changing shades as his eyes get tired until he has to blink. Every time he blinks, he expects to feel tears, but he never does.

After what could be two minutes or twenty, Nick sighs heavily. "Come on, now, no one's dying." Harry shakes his head and Nick reaches out to tap a finger against Harry's spine. Harry is very aware that Nick hasn't touched him in the last week and his entire body shivers at the tiny pressure. "It'll be okay. We will."

Just like Jeff the other afternoon, Nick doesn't sound sure. Harry doesn't say anything and Nick slides forward to close the space between them and wrap his arm over Harry's chest. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes. Harry understands that Nick can't give what Harry wants, so he needs to go back to being okay with what he has. Nick has never been something Harry can lose, especially not like this. So Harry curls himself into what Nick is offering, Nick's skin warm against Harry's back, and eventually manages to fall asleep.

**

Tour is exactly like Harry remembers and completely different. The crowds are a bit older and they're not clustered around the hotel in hordes, but that was never really something Harry needed. The feeling of being on stage is the same, but almost overwhelming after all this time and he's high on adrenaline for hours afterwards. Which is good, because he's on strict orders to go out after the shows, party, and disappear in and out of their cars with every variety of non-Nick love interests he can find in front of carefully placed paparazzi cameras.

In Mexico it's a model that Karen suggested, Lucy, a friend of Cara's that Harry met at a party in L.A. last year. She's sweet and fun and doesn't seem to mind when Harry drops her off at her hotel as soon as they leave the bar, both reeking of tequila. In the morning Liam flashes him his phone screen, a picture of Harry and Lucy laughing, Harry's arm around her waist as they walked to the car. Harry's Mexican Fling? across the top of the screen. Harry shrugs and heads to find a tea before they're off to the airport.

Liam follows, giving Harry the milk and a sympathetic smile. "Buck up, it'll be over soon, yeah?"

Peru, Colombia, Uruguay, Chile - they all go basically the same way. They arrive and do some press, the show is amazing and they go out. Harry has to, but at least one of the boys always comes, follows him around with drinks until he's settled in and ready to put on his show. It's occasionally Liam, sometimes Louis, but with a break-up with Nick on the horizon he's being cautious about being seen with Harry, so it's usually Niall.

Harry appreciates the support and tries not to be put out about it, reminds himself that he's living his dream and having to party for the press is barely a price to pay. He drinks more than he usually lets himself while on tour, tries not to think about Nick home in London, back to his regular life. He finds someone to dance with, makes a show of groping them and laughing and having a great time. It's another model in Peru, a beauty pageant contestant in Colombia. In Chile, Selena's tour crosses with theirs and Niall introduces Harry to one of her back-up dancers. His hands remind Harry of Nick's and they do actually snog a little bit, tucked in the corner of the club where everyone can see. It's in the tabloids in the morning, grainy fan camera phone shots along with pap photos of them leaving together. Harry dropped him off, though, passed out alone in his hotel after figuring out that Nick would be on the radio and Harry couldn't call him.

The schedule gives them a travel day after every show, so Harry nurses his hangover on the way to Buenos Aires. At the hotel he has two hours of phone interviews set with press in the States in advance of the album release. In every one there's a question about Nick or his relationship status, just like Karen promised. Harry confirms that he's single, says they just thought long-distance wouldn't work but that they're still friends, no drama. Every time it feels like Harry's being slowly covered in papercuts and when he's finished, he falls asleep until someone comes to wake him up for soundcheck.

Another show, another party, this time Harry lets the socialite Karen had put on their guest list blow him in the back of the car, fingers her and feels bad about not being into it, but she doesn't seem to mind. He showers and crawls into bed. He doesn't fall asleep though, and after a while he reaches for his iPad, pulls up the BBC radio page and waits for it to load, Nick's face smiling back at him from the screen. He hesitates for a second and then sighs, clicks the "Listen Live" button and watches the wheel spin until Nick's voice is there, tinny as he laughs at something Tina apparently said.

"Well, it just happens that way sometimes, you know?" Nick says and Fiona murmurs something in the background. "But it's all okay. Which is a long and weird way to introduce the new One Direction record, so let's just play it, shall we?"

Harry frowns as he listens to the song, feels weird that Nick is stuck talking about them the same way Harry is. He wants to talk to him about it, find out if it's as awful for him. Harry hopes it isn't. Mostly. He puts the iPad next to his pillow and tries to sleep, eventually drifting off as Nick talks to an actor from a new BBC mini-series Harry hasn't heard of.

Next it's on to Brazil, only one show this tour, in Rio, and then they'll be done. When they arrive at the hotel, they have a Skype call with the label, final details for the album launch set for the day after they get back to London. The event planner looks up and raises one eyebrow.

"Harry did you still want to invite Nick Grimshaw?"

Harry frowns. "Yeah, of course."

She nods. "Okay, just. With what's in the papers, I wasn't sure. Sorry, I shouldn't pay it any mind, I suppose."

The subject is quickly changed and Harry shoots Liam a quick smile in thanks. When he gets back to his room, he digs his iPad out and finds The Sun's homepage. There's a collage of the pictures he's staged since he's been down here across the screen and when he scrolls down there are two shots of Nick. Harry's mouth goes dry when he realizes that in both of them Nick's with Charles, holding hands outside a restaurant Harry recognizes as the one Nick took him to when they went out before Annie's show. Harry blinks and skims the article. Details about him being a slag as expected, worry that Nick might be heartbroken dismissed with the details of his comments about it on the radio and his apparent date night with "former flame designer Charles Simmons." They don't miss the detail that Charles was the one to break the Nick and Harry story in the first place and there's some speculation that Charles was trying to break them up from the beginning, but a source close to Grimmy refutes the idea, saying Nick and Charles are just old friends.

Rationally Harry knows that Nick was supposed to go out with someone, that it was one of the parts of Karen's plan, that Nick is doing exactly what Harry's people asked him to. But the part of him that he's been trying to ignore since Nick rejected him in the garden is angry that Nick doesn't want him, angry that Nick could understand how Harry feels and still go out with Charles, the person who started this whole mess. The only person Harry's ever seen Nick be upset about long after a break-up. Harry checks his phone. It's early evening at home. He waits as it rings, not sure he even wants Nick to pick up. He does, though. He always picks up.

"Harold." Nick's voice is scratchy and Harry doesn't know if it's the connection or just how he sounds. "How's the sunshine treating you?"

"It's fine." Harry flops back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He probably shouldn't have called. "You alright?"

Nick hums. "Course. A bit of drama here, but you know how I love that." There's a long pause and then Nick says, "Did you need something or is this one of those weird calls where someone just breathes down the line at you?"

Harry sits up and closes his eyes. "You're dating Charles?"

Nick's breath stutters against the phone. "Haz." No one says anything and Harry hears voices in the background. He wonders if Nick is out or has people over. "You know what, no. I'm not talking about this. I'm doing what I was told, just like you are."

"I know you have to go out, I saw the plan, but he's such a--"

"Stop. I don't know why you think you have the right to be angry about this, but you should stop before you say something we both regret." Nick's voice isn't cold like Harry thinks it should be, just slow and tired. Harry thinks he's already said a lot they both regret. He doesn't say that or anything else, though, just nods at the phone. "Just have a good tour, Harry. Just."

More silence and finally Harry nods again. "Right, okay. I'll see you when I get back?" He doesn't mean it to be a question, but it is.

"Okay."

And the phone is just dead air and Harry feels like his chest is being crushed. He looks at the black screen of his phone, willing time to reverse and take back the whole call.

He sits on his bed, phone clutched in his hand, thinking about sleeping but never actually trying for as long as he can. Before the show they have pre-tapes to get through for the States, though, so someone comes to get him, takes him to hair and wardrobe and then to a room transformed into a studio for the afternoon. He's paired with Niall for half and then with Liam and then they do a few with all four of them, for the more important outlets. They're all set to air over the next few days before the album drops. There are questions about Nick, but instead of the usual answer, Harry evades and just says he's moving on, doesn't talk about their friendship and lets whoever is with him move the subject on to something else. He forgot how nice it was to have someone else to take the pressure off in interviews.

After the show, Harry drinks some strong rum from a bartender who's very obviously flirting with him. His name's Luiz and his English isn't great, but Harry gets the point when he's going on break. Harry follows him into the employee bathroom, plans to fuck him against the tile wall, not thinking about anyone else. But he tries to force out thoughts of Nick's hands on Harry's chest or in his hair out of his mind until everything's white noise, he can't, just remembers the soft sounds Nick made when they kissed in the garden, so he pulls away. In the end, he just reaches down and jerks the bartender off with his mouth pressed against Luiz's neck. When Luiz starts to drop to his knees, Harry shakes his head and pulls him up. Luiz raises his eyebrows, but shrugs, grinning at him as Harry re-buttons his shirt. When Harry looks up again, Luiz leans in to kiss him, flithy and tasting of rum before going back to work. Harry leaves then, alone, nothing for anyone to photograph.

**

They're only back in London for a day before the album launch and Harry's so jet lagged he can't do anything but sleep. He'd forgotten this part, how the extremes of travelling on tour could be and he wants to go see Nick right away like he usually does, but he gets home and sees his bed and it's like a magnet pulling him in until he's collapsed and asleep. He stays that way until his alarm and then Lou's there for hair and makeup and all the rest. While he's sat getting his hair tended to, he sends Nick a quick text, You're coming tonight?. There's no reply until it's time to leave, but when it comes it's a yes.

Harry knows they haven't talked since they argued over the phone, but he's vowed to be a good friend, push everything else back down and accept that Nick might be happy with Charles. All of this was for Harry, so he could come out and not have to lie anymore. Nick did that for him and Harry being secretly angry because Nick's not in love with him isn't any way to repay him. Harry thinks about their list of fake boyfriend taxes, figures being a good friend isn't on it because it's assumed and Harry knows he can do that. So when Nick arrives, Harry doesn't have to force his smile and he pulls him into a hug. He missed the smell of his shampoo and the way his quiff tickles at Harry's cheek.

"Missed you," he whispers as he tucks his head into Nick's neck. "An embarrassing amount, if I'm honest."

Nick doesn't laugh at him, just squeezes tighter. "Well who wouldn't?"

"Got used to you being around, I guess." After what he decides isn't too long a hug for a best mate (slash-ex-boyfriend as far as most of the party guests know, which might make it weirder than Harry considered) Harry reluctantly pulls back and looks behind Nick, ready with a fake smile for Charles, but there's no one there. Harry blinks and looks back to Nick. "Where's your date?"

Nick shakes his head and his laugh is as fake as the smile Harry was planning. "Karen didn't say I had to bring one?" He raises his eyebrow. "And I think my days of finding fake dates to make my exes feel bad are over."

Harry isn't really Nick's ex, which he starts to say, and there's no reason for Nick to prove anything to Harry with a date, but Niall appears over Nick's shoulder, a pint in each hand.

"Grimmy!" Niall's voice is loud even over the party noise and Nick starts a little before turning around. "If it isn't my favorite 1D WAG." Niall's right-hand pint sloshes dangerously as he leans in to drop a kiss on Nick's cheek.

Nick scoffs. "Ex-WAG, Horan." The laugh still sounds forced, like he's interviewing someone he doesn't like on the radio, even though Harry knows Nick likes Niall. He shakes his head. "Everyone told me Styles was love-em-and-leave-em, but I just couldn't resist."

"Wouldn't be the first, won't be the last," Liam's behind Harry and he moves to make space for him, but at the same time, Cheryl pushes past, knocking an elbow painfully against Harry's side and pulling Nick into a hug and dragging him away to the bar.

Liam claps a hand on Harry's shoulder and watches them leave. "It's too bad you and Nick weren't the real deal - look at the proper couples pair we could have been."

Harry doesn't laugh and Niall reaches over to hand him one of his drinks. "Think you need this more'n I do, mate." Harry smiles his thanks and gulps down half of it in one go.

Liam is telling a story about some paparazzi on the way in and Niall laughs in the right places, but he's watching Harry who's staring over the top of his glass at Nick. When Liam stops talking, Niall tips his head at Harry and says, "Come on, it's a party. Least try to enjoy it?"

Harry takes a deep breath and throws one last look to the bar. He's surprised to see Cheryl staring directly at him with eyes that could cut glass. He blinks and she's still glaring, but after a second she tips her head down to Nick's shoulder and laughs at something he says. Harry turns to ask Liam about it but then as suddenly as the rest, Louis finally turns up and they're off to work before Harry can say anything. When he looks at the bar again, both Nick and Cheryl have melted into the crowd.

Harry does his job, meets and greets, talks to the reporters scattered around, and even manages some actual celebrating. A new album is a big deal and all his friends are here. Except Nick, who is there, but is managing to feel like he isn't. Every time Harry has a break, he looks for Nick and moves towards him, but every time before Harry can talk to him, Nick's found someone else to focus his attention on, or Cheryl's pulled him away, or he somehow disappears when Harry gets distracted with a well-wisher. And every time Harry can't find Nick, he finds a drink instead, taking more pints from Niall and cocktails from the circulating waiters, shots with Louis, tequila and whiskey and more tequila. It's a solution, of sorts, if not a good one and after each one he's more determined to find Nick, make him talk.

When he finally does, Nick's getting his coat and Harry watches him pull it on, waits for him to turn around. When he does, his eyes widen and he looks caught. "Hey, there you are."

Harry laughs, a harsh sound accompanied by the bitter taste of alcohol and bile. "Sorry to ruin your attempts to avoid me." He doesn't want to fight, and when Nick looks a bit like he's been slapped, Harry swallows, wishes he hadn't had that last shot.

"Harry." And there it is again, Nick's voice is so exhausted. Harry hates how tired he sounds all the time now, doesn't remember him ever sounding like this before, even when he first started mornings or when they've stayed up all night. He doesn't say anything else and Harry reaches out to wrap two fingers around Nick's wrist. Nick tracks the movement and stares at their linked hands. "Don't," he says, but he doesn't pull away.

"I'm sorry, you know." Harry presses his finger against Nick's pulse, steady despite everything. "I thought I could just." Harry waves his free hand. He's too drunk to really have this conversation and part of him knows he probably shouldn't anyway. Sometimes he's shocked he can write songs or speak in public at all. "Do this. Have this. Without fucking it up."

Nick shrugs. "You got what you wanted though, right?" He closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them, his smile's started to reappear, maybe even his real one. "You're out and you can just be who you are. That's what I wanted for you and now you've got it."

"But what about you?" The fingers pressed against Nick's skin are warmer than the ones folded against Harry's own palm and he has to resist the urge to warm up the rest of his skin by touching Nick everywhere.

"There was never anything in it for me." Harry chokes back a protest and Nick frowns. "Or, there was the Charles thing and that worked out okay, so I guess I'm sorted. But I mean, I didn't expect anything more, so it's fine that it's just this."

"More what?" Harry's had too many pints and he's not sure what Nick means. The whole room feels like it's moving and Harry thinks maybe his fingers barely wrapped around Nick's wrist are the only thing keeping him upright. He was definitely not supposed to get this drunk. "It doesn't feel fine, Nick. You're not. I think. Not fine." Harry thinks Nick doesn't want to be friends anymore, that Harry's too much for Nick now that he's leaking feelings everywhere.

"I will be." Nick turns his hand, palm up like he's going to slide it back and take Harry's hand. He doesn't though, it just hovers there. "Promise. I mean, you did me a favor, I did you a favor. That's what friends are for. No apologies needed - I'll get over it." He pulls his hand back properly then and leans forward, a quick kiss on Harry's cheek and the lingering smell of cigarettes and hair product. "I'll see you, Harold. Get some sleep. Have a good tour."

Harry stands alone, blinking into the light of a camera he didn't realize was just behind where Nick had been. He imagines the headline in The Sun- Harry Styles and Nick Grimshaw's Awkward Post-Breakup Reunion and he swallows hard. He tastes the tequila at the back of his throat, stronger now, and he knows he's going to throw up and he can't do it here, so he turns, walking as quickly as he can in the direction he remembers there being a private bathroom.

The space is private, no party guests, but outside the door he finds Liam and Cheryl, leaning together against a wall, and they both turn to stare at him when he stumbles up.

"Harry, what the-" Liam's eyes are wide. "When did you get this pissed?"

"Was trying to talk to Nick but he," Harry pauses. Liam's looking at him like that's not an answer, but it's the only one Harry has. "I'm an idiot."

Cheryl sighs and reaches past Liam, wrapping a hand around Harry's shoulder. He can feel her long nails scratching at his suit. She frowns at him, but it's not angry like earlier.

Harry wills his stomach to settle and leans into her. "Thought you were mad at me."

Cheryl laughs. "I am. But right now I'm pretty sure you're angry enough at yourself for me to give you a break."

Liam crowds into them and Harry struggles for air. "What are you angry at Harry for?" Cheryl just stares at him, her hand now rubbing soothing circles on Harry's arms. "About Grimmy still? But all that's done with, innit?"

"If by 'all that' you mean taking advantage of someone and then leaving them a heartbroken mess to go shag South American models, yeah, it's done with." Harry always forgets how thick Cheryl's Geordie accent is and it's apparently thicker when she's angry.

"I didn't shag any-" Harry stops mid-sentence, plays back what Cheryl said. "Wait, what?"

"Harry, come on." Cheryl squeezes at Harry's shoulder a bit too hard and he thinks she's forgotten the part about giving him a break. "I figured you didn't know how he felt about you when this started, because I don't think you're cruel, but you can't not see it now. He's miserable. That's why you stopped it early, right?" Cheryl frowns at Harry as he tries to pull away from her, his stomach rolling again. He must be misunderstanding what she's saying.

There's no way Nick could have feelings for Harry. "He was the one who didn't want to have sex." Harry didn't really mean to say that out loud.

"Are you serious?" Cheryl's eyes narrow. "He said you must have realized how much it hurt, he thinks you're trying to be nice for fuck's sake. I don't know what you're doing, but he's in love with you and you need to stop making him show up and play p-"

Whatever Cheryl's planning to say next is lost as Harry retches and pushes his way into the bathroom. He only makes it to the sink before he's vomming, his throat burning and his eyes stinging with harsh tears. As terrible as the alcohol feels as it makes its way back out of his body, the idea that Nick could be in love with Harry is solidifying in his head and he stands up as soon as he's finally done emptying his stomach. He feels dizzy with drink, probably, but also with the idea of it. If Cheryl's right, then all of this it was maybe more awful than Harry realized, but it also means he can fix it. He needs to find Nick first, though. He coughs and looks in the mirror. There's sick on his shirt and probably in his hair. He should maybe shower first.

Outside he can hear Cheryl and Liam talking, voices hushed but worried. He'll get them to get him home, he'll sleep this off and he'll go see Nick in the morning. It's not what he wants, he wants to go right now, smelling of tequila and sick, and ask Nick if it's true, tell him everything. But Harry's been so careful for so long and the last thing he rushed into only made things with Nick awkward and painful. So he needs to wait and not do anything he can't undo while he's drunk.

When Harry comes out of the bathroom, Cheryl is frowning, but Liam has his hand pressed into the small of her back and she doesn't say anything.

"There's a car coming for you. It's fine for you to leave now, most everyone else is already trickling out." Liam lets Harry hug him and doesn't say anything about how gross Harry must be right now, so Harry knows Liam is worried. "What's going on with you, mate?"

Harry doesn't answer, just looks over Liam's shoulder at Cheryl. She watches his face and her mouth gets a little less rigid. When Harry pulls away from Liam he asks, "You're sure? Because it's the same, I mean. Me too." Cheryl inhales a sharp breath and Harry can see she's understood, so he nods. "Yeah, so it's important that you're. Well, I need you to be sure." Harry feels like he might cry and he's not usually an emotional drunk.

Cheryl reaches out and grasps Harry's hand. "I'm sure." She squeezes. "I really thought you knew."

"No," Harry looks over at Liam who still looks puzzled. It makes him laugh and once he's started he can't quite stop, so he just giggles, small and breathy, the disgusting taste in his mouth not fading at all. "I definitely would have done this differently if I knew."

"Oh this is awful," Cheryl says, but she's laughing too and they lean against each other, her holding Harry up until Liam's phone buzzes to let them know the car is here.

He helps Harry out and into the car. "You're mental," he says.

"Love you too, Li." Harry settles back into the seat and lets Liam check that the driver has Harry's address. He dozes until they're home and then climbs into bed. Once he's settled, he pulls his phone over and sends Nick a text, sorry. again. then really, thanks for coming. and finally brekkie tomorrow? please.. He falls asleep before Nick answers, pretty confident that he'll agree.

**

When Harry wakes up, it's to his phone buzzing and the taste of warm death in his mouth. He gags as he tries to breathe through his nose and reaches for his phone.

k

Harry knows that Nick knows texting 'k' is unacceptable, has heard him complain about it on more than one occasion, so he waits a second and the phone buzzes again. food would be good followed by a donut emoji, a strawberry emoji, and a coffee emoji. Harry thinks of Nick texting from his bed, thinks of the way Nick's sheets are always somehow soft and crisp at the same time. He would really prefer to be there. After a second, some of the fog clears from his brain and he remembers that he probably can be if he just gets this resolved. He drags himself from bed, brushes his teeth and showers, and calls Nick as he's pulling clothes out of his suitcase, trying to figure out which t-shirts are clean. He really needs to let the PAs pack for him, but it seems so diva.

"Morning." Nick's voice is morning gruff as he draws out the word and Harry knows Nick's being louder than necessary on purpose. "How are we feeling?"

"I've felt less like a truck hit me." Harry finally gives up on sorting and just pulls on a pair of black shorts. "Sorry for being so drunk and emotional." Harry switches to speaker and tosses the phone on the bed so he can get the first t-shirt on the pile over his head. "'Fit makes you feel better, I was sick after you left. And I think I got it on Liam."

"It does not make me feel better to think of poor Liam Payne covered in your sick." Nick's laugh is soft. "You were drunk. But seems like you have every right at your own party."

From his carry-on, Harry grabs the jumper he stole from Nick to wear in every overly-airconditioned hotel room in South America. "Guess so." Harry looks in the mirror and runs a towel over his hair again. It'll have to do. "I'll just come to yours, yeah? Where do you want me to get food?"

There's a pause and then Nick says, "You pick." Another pause and then "See you soon," before it's just the sound of a dead line.

Harry frowns at his phone, but it's fine because he's fixing this. So he gets pastries from Nick's favorite place and smoothies from Harry's favorite place, and coffee from the best coffee shop in Nick's neighborhood and balances it all with one hand while driving with the other. He carries the pastry box and the tray of drinks to Nick's flat, no cameras anywhere nearby. A perk of being dumped by a pop star, probably. A perk that Nick hopefully won't mind losing if Cheryl was right and everything goes to Harry's new plan.

Harry doesn't have to debate whether it would be weird to use his key because his hands are full, so he leans on the buzzer and hears Pig's answering bark from inside followed by Nick's exasperated, "I'm coming for fuck's sake." Harry leans back and puts on his best innocent face when the door opens to Nick glaring at him.

"Wake the whole neighborhood your plan?" Nick steps aside to let Harry in. "Just because you don't live here anymore, doesn't mean you should start making my neighbors hate me."

Harry frowns and makes his way to the living room. He sets down the food and Nick comes in from the kitchen with plates and forks that he places on the coffee table. He busies himself opening the box and putting the smoothies and coffees on coasters. Once everything's settled, he looks up and watches Harry. Harry sighs and sits down on the sofa, leaning to take a scone from the box. Nick takes a coffee and sits carefully on the chair opposite Harry.

Harry tips his head, looks at the space next to him and then back across at Nick. "It's like that, then?"

Nick doesn't answer, just reaches for the almond croissant in the box and starts shredding the top layer onto his plate.

"You're meant to eat that, not make an art installation," Harry says after a bit. "Should I have brought something else?"

Nick shakes his head, laughs. "Sorry. No, I didn't know what I wanted, but this looks good. I like this place. I'm just." He doesn't finish, but Harry nods. He has an idea how Nick feels.

Harry chews at his scone and watches as Nick actually takes a bite of the croissant. He doesn't feel sick the way he did the last time he had something to ask Nick, but he also isn't sure how to do this. His instinct not to say anything, not to let on, it's so practiced and so much a part of him that his body is resisting the idea of just blurting it out.

So he chews and he thinks back on the last months, thinks of Nick agreeing to Harry's plan, thinks of his careful pleasantly blank expressions when they were photographed, the way he always avoided Harry's questions about how he was feeling about the charade, shrugging it off and asking about tweets and endorsements and how Harry's image was doing. And Harry thinks of Nick saying he's not bothered when he actually cares but isn't sure. Because Nick is straight-forward about other people's feelings, but cagey about his own. This is something Harry knows, completely and in his bones, the same way he knew Nick was probably hungover enough to want an almond croissant and exactly what kind of coffee to get and that there should be absolutely no pineapple in the smoothies. Harry realizes that if he weren't so obsessed with making sure Nick didn't know Harry was practically in love with him, he might have actually noticed that Nick was in love with Harry. On top of being sad about all the time they've lost, he feels like a rubbish friend for not noticing when he should have.

Nick coughs and reaches for the smoothie. Takes a long sip. "Harry."

Harry looks up. Straight-forward with other people's feelings, so Harry nods, decides to take the long way around in hopes that working up to it will trick his muscle memory into letting him tell Nick the truth. He says, "So turns out Cheryl was angry with me. Like, properly outraged." Harry shakes his head. "Can't believe Liam didn't tell me."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Don't worry about her. She's being overprotective - just worried all that was too much for me." Nick shrugs and looks back down at his croissant. "She'll get over it."

Harry nods. "No, yeah. I mean, she is. Over it." Nick nods, starts to say something but Harry waves a bit of scone in the air and presses on. "She yelled at me and I got sick first, but then she um." Harry frowns as Nick backs further onto his chair. Harry doesn't want to confront Nick with his own feelings first thing, so Harry shakes his head. "I mean, I told her." Harry pauses, thinking back over the last few months again. "Wait so all your friends were angry, yeah? That's why Aimee was rude and Ian avoided me and Daisy told you--"

Nick laughs. "Yeah. Turns out my mates are all a bit overprotective." He chews at the croissant. "Thought I was being too easy for you, letting you take advantage. As if I'm not a grown man."

Harry rolls his eyes. Another thing that he could have figured out if he tried. "Anyway, I told Cheryl that I wasn't trying to be a jerk, it's just that it's been hard."

"I know." Nick's eyes are warm and Harry can tell he's not lying. He really doesn't think Harry was being malicious, even if he's not sure yet what Harry means. "Harry, it's all over now, so don't worry."

"It's not, though." Harry puts the scone down again and starts to stand, then sits again. "It's not over and it's still hard. Because you. Well, because I thought you were upset now that you knew but maybe that's not it." Nick is watching Harry carefully like he might make a sudden movement. Which is essentially true. Harry sighs again, puts both hands on his knees and pushes through. "I thought you figured it out, while I was here and we were pretending. Because pretending to be in love with you, it was too easy. Because I think I am." Nick is blinking incredibly fast. "In love with you. For like, way too long? And I thought that if I told you it would like, be awkward or like, actually maybe it wouldn't be at first and you'd be into it except only casually because that's what we do, both of us really, although lately for me it's more just because I can't get past this thing." Harry gestures between the two of them. Nick is still staring at Harry.

Nick puts the plate with the croissant down on the table, never takes his eyes from Harry's face. His mouth keeps fluttering between a frown and something that might be on the verge of a smile.

"I thought like, the night of our um, fake anniversary. I didn't want you to hook up with me and then find out I was hiding all these feelings. So when you said no, I just. It sucked but I figured we'd be okay except then it was so awkward, even more than I expected, so I thought you were mad. That I was in love with you or that I lied about it or that I tricked you into a pretend relationship that wasn't entirely pretend." Harry laughs and pulls at his lip. "I wasn't trying to Stockholm Syndrome you into loving me, though. Promise." There isn't really any more to say, so Harry just rubs his palms over his knees and waits.

Nick's lips finally settle into a smile and before Harry can really process that, Nick is collapsing onto his lap. "You didn't have to," he says just before pushing Harry back into the sofa and kissing him. It's not really their first kiss, but it feels different and Harry knows now that Nick was hiding before. He was hiding everything he felt, the snogging version of saying he wasn't bothered. Harry thinks if he'd only responded the right way then they could have saved a lot of time and a lot of pointless heartache. But then Nick's tongue is licking lightly at Harry's lips, demanding entry and Harry isn't really thinking anymore.

They kiss on the sofa until Harry feels heavy with it. They manage to turn their bodies so they're sprawled across the sofa, Nick's legs slotted between Harry's and Harry's hands splayed across Nick's back under his t-shirt. Nick pulls at Harry's head so he can slide his hand into Harry's hair and Harry moves to let him have access, but the movements don't match and they smash their foreheads together. It smarts, but Nick's laughing into Harry's mouth and that sound quickly replaces all the other Nick-related sounds as Harry's favorite. They settle again and Nick pulls at Harry's curls and slides down to mouth at his jaw and then his neck, Harry tipping his head back to let him while he works his hands under the waistband of Nick's sweatpants and onto the smooth skin of his ass. Nick draws a sharp breath in and nips at Harry's neck. Harry squeezes a little and Nick pulls his hair again, angling his head away and sucking a small circle at the top of Harry's collarbone.

Harry tips his head back, remembers doing the same thing in the garden what was only weeks ago but seems like ages. And then he narrows his eyes and presses his hand to Nick's head. "Wait, Nick."

Nick mumbles something into Harry's skin and keeps sucking, dragging his teeth across where he's probably created a bruise. Harry shudders a little and then presses again.

"Really, Nick, stop. Just for a second." Nick looks up, eyes glazed over and lips pushed into a pout. Harry can't help but laugh. "Why did you stop before? In the garden?"

Nick settles back, sitting on Harry's thighs. He sighs. "I don't know if anyone's ever explained this to you, Harold, but you're not the most eloquent person? For a songwriter, it's actually kind of weird when you think about it." Nick reaches out and pulls at one of Harry's curls. "I thought you were telling me you wanted to keep it casual. Because I thought you figured out how I felt and didn't want to lead me on." Harry frowns up at Nick, trying to remember what he actually said that night, but it's not quite clear. Nick shrugs. "I can see now how it could have gone either way. But you never said how you felt, just rambled that it was important I knew, that you were honest."

"Oh my god. That's like." Harry narrows his eyes, thinking. "That has to be from a romantic comedy or something. That's idiotic."

Nick laughs. "You said it." He starts to bend down again and then starts, sits back. "Wait, you said you still felt the same as when you called me about Zayn." Nick narrows his eyes. "So-"

Harry scoffs. "I told you, not Zayn." Harry rolls his eyes. "I still don't remember the call, but I'm sure I was talking about you. So I feel the same."

"For fuck's sake. Really? All that time?" Harry nods, feels a bit ridiculous, but it doesn't matter now. "You were so sad. I wish you'd told me," Nick says as he finally leans back down for real, lips dropping close to Harry's ear. "Hell, I wish I'd said something. But I will now, for clarity's sake at least. I think I'm in love with you too." Harry turns his head and they kiss again until both of them have to pull away for air. Nick catches his breath first and asks, "Are we all on the same page now?"

Harry laughs again, nodding and pulling Nick properly back on top of him. "Yes. I think so. Everyone is in love, no one is faking it, and we are going to stay right here and have sex all day."

Nick pokes at Harry's arm. "We can't actually stay here all day."

"Says who?" Harry asks. It sounds like exactly what they should do. "I don't have to be anywhere." He might, actually, but he texted Niall that he was working on fixing things with Nick, so he'll make Harry's excuses if necessary. Harry's kind of glad to be back in a band.

"Call in sick to your popstar job, then?" Nick shivers a little bit as Harry trails his fingers down Nick's side to get back to the job of removing the sweatpants he'd abandoned earlier.

"Yup. I called in very hungover." Harry succeeds in sliding the sweats down to Nick's thighs and lets Nick take over, kicking them off a little awkwardly. "And getting back together with my no-longer fake boyfriend. So sorry, but you need to stay here with me to validate my excuse."

Nick hums a vague protest, but he settles against Harry's chest and drops his mouth back to Harry's collarbone, lingering only a few seconds before pushing up Harry's shirt and starting a path down his chest, . "I guess that's a real boyfriend tax, then?"

Harry laughs into Nick's hair. "Something like that," he mutters before gasping at the feel of Nick's breath ghosting across Harry's abs. He slides Harry's shorts off, laughing when he realizes he's not wearing any pants, and this time when Nick slides his mouth over Harry's cock, Harry doesn't have to stop him with a vague speech about honesty and feelings. It certainly doesn't feel like anyone's actually being taxed.