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Harry brings the bottle to his lips, wincing a little at the burning taste as the alcohol hits his throat, and nods at Zane, completely clueless about what he’s saying. He’s like 90 per cent sure the conversation started out with Niall freaking out over Barack Obama again but Zane keeps mentioning A$ap Rocky and how they ended up partying in a seedy bar downtown, so they’ve probably moved on from that. He’s also pretty sure that this is his seventh Rolling Rock tonight and judging by the slightly hazy texture of Zane’s face, he’s going to regret mixing it with shitty vodka by noon tomorrow, when he’s hunched over the toilet puking his guts out.
He blinks a little, trying to bring everyone into focus, and smiles lazily at the hand he feels wrapping around his bicep. Niall’s still talking animatedly to Zane but his eyes keep flicking back to Harry, not worried, just kind of soft and fond. I’m fine, he mouths when he catches him glancing back to him, and Niall just shakes his head, pressing Zane for his opinion on the newest Kid Cudi single or something.
The conversation comes to a halt when someone shouts Zane to come to the decks and ‘show them how it’s done’ and Zane grins and pats Harry’s back, promising to give him tips on that graphic design course. Hopefully that’ll make more sense to sober Harry because right now it’s all he can do to nod slowly and watch him go.
“Such a fucking lightweight, man.” Niall grins at him, shiny braces glinting as he grabs Harry by the back of his neck and presses their foreheads together. He laughs almost into Harry’s mouth and Harry licks his chapped lips tasting beer and Zayn’s Luckies and grilled cheese of all things. He kind of wants to kiss Niall just for that, chase after the taste, but Niall’s pulling away already, sliding his hand to fit into Harry’s.
He drags them through the crowd and into the frat house and Harry shivers, suddenly aware how fucking cold it was outside. He lets Niall guide him inside, feeling his limbs all loose and heavy. He turns into the kitchen, pushing two Phi girls out of the way for easier access to the fridge. Harry giggles because it’s funny, then nearly knocks into a couple making out on the counter behind him.
“What the f- oh! Harry! Hey, baby.”
Louis resurfaces from where he was basically fucking Zayn’s face with his tongue and untangles himself enough to pull at Harry’s stray curls. Harry mewls pathetically and shoves Zayn away for better access to Louis’ shoulder. “Asshole,” Zayn mutters and resumes sucking the side of Louis’ neck which is just inconsiderate, if you ask Harry.
“Baby, are you drunk?” Kudos to Louis for finding the strength to pet at Harry’s hair with Zayn trying to palm him through his pants.
“He tried to funnel a beer. Again,” Niall says with a sigh somewhere behind him and Harry smiles into Louis’ shoulder, hearing the tell-tale rattle. Sure enough, when Niall eases a hand around his waist to turn him around, there’s a box of Lucky Charms shoved under his nose. I love you, he mouths again and Niall scrunches his face at him, tipping the box to feed him.
“He’s trying to impress you, you know.” Louis sounds like he’s smiling.
“I know,” Niall shrugs, stealing the marshmallows from Harry’s tongue because he’s gross, and stuffing his face. “But I’m a pro, dude. And I’m, like, Irish.”
“You’re not like Irish, jesus, you are Irish.” Zayn gets pissy for no reason when he’s had a few jello shots and Louis' hand is still out of his pants.
“From my mom’s side, fuck off, Z.”
“I am too drunk and too horny to deal with this right now. You’ll take care of him, Horan?”
“Sure, sure.”
“You could always, like, sleep with him, it’ll help with the hangover.” Harry turns blindly and bites down softly at the exposed part of Louis’ shoulder where his shirt’s ridden low. Louis winks at him.
“Louis!”
“Didn’t mean it like that, Zayn, chill. But, as long as you brought it up...”
“Go have sex, Louis.” Niall sounds amused; Harry’s sort of lost sight of him now, chewing mechanically with his eyes shut. He should probably be feeling embarrassed but being best friends with Louis Tomlinson comes with certain risks and Harry’s pretty used to being humiliated now. Still, he pinches Louis’ side when he comes in for a kiss - soft on the corner of his mouth - and latches onto him a little longer than is necessary.
“Needy baby. I’ll come and find you in the morning, OK?”
Harry hums and watches them go, sweaty hands all over each other. He doubts they’re gonna last long enough to find Zayn’s bed.
A pink marshmallow hits him suddenly on the nose. He tilts his head and smiles languidly at Niall, who’s taken up Louis’ space, sidling next to Harry.
“Hey.”
Niall laughs. “You’re fucking ridiculous, man.”
“Heyyy.”
Niall shakes his head. “You are so drunk.” Harry shrugs and, feeling brave, rests his chin on Niall’s shoulder, folding his body around him. Niall doesn’t shy away, just reaches out to push a curl behind Harry’s ear. Their noses are an inch apart. Harry tests the waters, sticking his tongue to lick across Niall’s Cupid’s bow.
“Ew, Harry.” Niall gives him a soft slap on the head but pushes against his tongue all the same. Harry nuzzles against him, sighing contentedly. He’s still in the stage of buzzed where he’s feeling just overly touchy feely but if Niall doesn’t make him back off soon, his skinny jeans are going to feel even tighter. He curls a finger around the strap of Niall’s tank top and pulls.
“Harry.”
"What."
“Would you be doing this if you weren’t drunk?”
Harry laughs loudly. “Have you met me? We made out like two days after I told you my name.”
“True. But this time I’ve drunk enough to kiss back.”
Harry licks his lips and chews on the inside of his cheek. “Huh.”
“Yeah.” Niall grins and takes off his snapback, scratching his head. He stands on his toes for a second to put the hat backwards on Harry’s hair, pressing down on his curls, and takes a step back, staring at Harry’s mouth. He lifts a hand, frowning a bit, then eases a thumb between Harry’s lips. Harry doesn’t need more encouragement than that, just bites down and sucks, dragging his tongue slowly over the pad of Niall’s thumb. “We should - ah - like, go upstairs.”
Harry hollows his cheeks out as obscenely as he can, cataloguing Niall’s reaction, the way his chest expands and the fingers of his hand scratch a little at Harry’s jaw. He nods, sucking on Niall’s thumb with more force and then opening his mouth, cocking his chin upwards. Niall swallows and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him out of the kitchen and winding through the house. People are passed out on the ground now, bottles and red cups littered everywhere, the distinct smell of someone smoking a bowl making Harry’s head even lighter.
Niall’s room is on the the last floor, the biggest room in the house, privilege of being Niall in what is basically a fraternity of Nialls. Liam’s bed on the right side is empty and made and Niall’s side is about as messy as Liam’s isn’t, clothes thrown on the floor, beer bottles wedged under the bed, textbooks hanging open over the closet. The only things vaguely organised are his snapbacks lined on a makeshift shelf by order of preference and the mixtapes Harry’s made for him piled up on his bedside table. The last makes Harry grin dopily and tug at Niall’s arm. “You listen to those before bed then?”
Niall shrugs, flashing the braces again. “They’re good.”
“Mmm.” Harry loops his fingers in the belt loops of Niall’s jeans, feeling tipsy and wobbly and very, very curious as to how braces would feel against his tongue. “I’m good.” He literally has no idea what he’s saying right now. Niall’s mouth is kind of distracting.
“You’re OK.”
“Fuck you.”
Niall pushes his tongue against his cheek, keeping his smile small. “You talk big, Styles.”
And Harry may have lost all coordination in his motor skills but he’s not about to let that one go. He crowds Niall against the door, revelling in the fact that he’s a head taller and leans down, finally latching onto his mouth, slotting their lips together. His hands are splayed on either side of Niall’s head and he dips down for a better angle, parting his lips and sucking into his mouth greedily. He lets out a hum of surprise when he feels Niall’s tongue push through and Harry grins through it, groaning appreciatively when he feels Niall’s hand tugging at the hairs on the nape of his neck. It’s lazy and slow and tastes of beer and Harry just relaxes into it, into how easy it is, just a drag of lips with not much intent or messiness attached to it.
He grabs at the straps of Niall’s tank top again after a few minutes - because he kind of finds it really hot how Niall is basically naked if Harry pulls down enough - and walks backwards slowly until he feels the bed on the back of his knees and sits down, legs framing Niall as he stands over him. Niall doesn’t break the kiss as he pushes Harry back with a firm hand on Harry’s chest and then climbs over him. The snapback falls off and Niall grabs it and shoves it onto his own head again, smiling as he kisses Harry, open-mouthed and panting. Harry actually breathes out in surprise, then slides his hands on Niall’s back and lower, until he’s framing the back of his thighs with his palms outstretched.
They go on like that for a while until Harry squeezes once to warn him, then flips Niall over, baring his teeth at him and growling for no reason. Niall giggles - actually fucking giggles - and Harry latches his teeth onto Niall’s jaw, biting down. Niall makes a squeaking sound and slips a hand between them, digging into Harry’s abdomen where he knows he’s ticklish. It’s Harry’s turn to giggle, letting out a high-pitched laugh against the pink skin where he was sucking a hickey into Niall’s neck. He grinds down in retaliation, leering when he Niall swears. “Fucking -”
“You were saying?” He lets his voice go low, pressing his chest down so it vibrates against Niall.
“You are such a fucking tease, man,” Niall pants out, pushing up and cutting Harry’s laugh short. They’re both painfully hard and Harry knows he’s not up to much more than slow pressing against each other. He ghosts his lips over Niall’s again, moving his hips in slow circles and palming Niall through his jeans. Niall makes a choked noise with the back of his throat and Harry sucks on his top lip, kissing him through it, hand cupping his forehead as tenderly as he can when it’s taking all of him not pant out and let go right now.
Niall gulps down air like a drowning man, kissing back with a slow-moving mouth. It’s a bit of a shock to feel cool hands sliding into his jeans and squeezing him tight through his briefs but Harry doesn’t have time to do much more than moan before he’s coming in Niall’s hands. He falls, starfish-like, on top of Niall, and they both breathe each other in heavily. He’s tired and fucked out and feeling the edge of a hangover but he still mouths slowly on Niall’s neck, biting down on the lovebite until Niall hisses.
“Stop that, you douchebag, that hurts. Least you can do after making me come in my fucking pants.” His accent is more pronounced now, just as it always is when he’s minutes before sleeping. Harry rolls off him and shucks off his pants with a groan, poking at Niall until he gets the picture and eases up, grabbing a towel from somewhere. They clean themselves up as best they can, pausing every so often for Harry graze his teeth on every part of Niall he lets him, and then they fall under the covers, Harry naked as the day he was born and Niall stubbornly in a pair of sweatpants. They huddle close to each other and Harry rubs a palm up and down Niall’s arm, pressing feathery light kisses along his collarbones. Niall’s lost all ability for coherent speech, just nuzzles in closer, leaning his head against Harry’s chest. “Sleep.”
Harry nestles in closer, small smile stretching on his face.
Yeah. Sleep sounds good now.