Work Text:
In university, they met and declared each other best friends until a night of karaoke ended with their bodies and tongues tangled in Louis' backseat.
From the moment their mouths touched, Harry knew. The kind of instant kinetic passion he found with Louis was rare. Once he had it, he couldn't let go. Once he touched him, he couldn't stop. They went from best friends to boyfriends in a matter of weeks and once Louis was his in one sense, Harry wanted him in every other sense too: as his fiancé after two years of dating, and then as his husband a year after graduating, and then as the other father to his children.
Their life now was nearly perfect, if not for them being constantly burned out and bruised from work and two young children. Isabelle had just turned four. George was two. They had more energy, more wit, and ingenuity than children needed, and thus, they were a handful. Zuko, their family’s big fluffy dog, kept them well-guarded but demanded his fair share of attention too, as did Ziggy, their orange tabby cat.
And yet, life in their home was always bright. Weekdays were rough, but weekends were a blast. Cooking with Louis was a highlight of every Saturday or Sunday. Watching a film or finding time to nap, all six of them (including the pets) curled up in bed, was what Harry enjoyed most.
“Life is really good,” he said to his mum. “I’m sorry I haven’t found time to call you back but I’m doing fine. The kids are fine. Louis’ got a new case and he’s stressed but also fine.”
“I’ll remain unconvinced until I see you in person,” his mum said, her voice soft but scolding through his bluetooth headset. “Please visit as soon as you can. And ring home more often.”
Isabelle screamed and wailed in the backseat. Harry’s eyes shot upward to the rearview mirror.
“What is it, Izzy?”
“George farted,” she said. “It smells bad.”
Harry shook his head, pressing his finger to the power window button to let some fresh air flood the car. It really did smell like a toxic waste dump. Even with one window down for Zuko to stick his head through, the stench filled the space. He couldn’t comprehend its intensity when the kids mostly ate organic.
“She screams about everything these days,” he said to his mum. “If her tea’s gone cold. If she has to go to the loo. I don’t know where she gets that from.”
“Children aren’t supposed to make sense, love.”
Harry sighed. “I’ve realized. I've got to ring you later. We’re dropping lunch off for Louis.”
“That’s sweet of you,” his mum said. “I’ll wait for your call. Give the kids kisses for me.”
“Will do.”
After they disconnected, Harry pulled into a parking space. He hopped out quickly and unbuckled the kids, lifting George into his arms, and helping Isabelle down from the SUV. He cradled George in one arm and took Isabelle’s hand while she held Louis’ lunch. He waved to the security guard as he stepped through the glass doors and he was allowed into the building without question. He and the kids had come by often enough now that most of Louis’ coworkers knew them well.
Louis’ office was on the tenth floor, third from the top. Each year and each successful case that brought him closer to potentially being made a partner with his firm. His superiors had already taken notice of how hard-working and determined he was, not to mention how much his clients trusted and admired him. In another few years, he could land the position he’d always wanted.
He was expecting them, though he was on the phone when they stepped up to the door, which he’d left open. When he saw them, he stilled, a grin stretching from ear to ear.
“It’s no problem at all, Dave,” he said. “Anytime. I’ll talk to you soon.”
He put the phone down and his smile grew even wider, hands reaching for Isabelle. He swooped her up into his arms and pressed a frenzy of tickling kisses to her cheek. She laughed, small hands curling up in his neatly pressed shirt. He turned to Harry. “Hi, love.”
“Hi,” Harry said, leaning in to kiss him once.
Louis pressed a kiss to George’s head, smoothing his hand down the back of his head. He looked at Isabelle. “Is this for me?” he asked, looking at the lunch box in her hands.
She nodded and Louis tickled her again. “That’s so sweet of you,” he said, while she laughed until she was breathless and the apples of her cheeks were a happy pink.
“You’re not working late, are you?” Harry asked him.
Louis sighed. “I probably am. I’ve been on the phone or in meetings all morning. Haven’t been able to actually work on a case.”
Harry made a concerted effort not to pout. “Well, I’ll have dinner for you when you get home. Right now, you’ve got a ham and cheese sandwich and biscuits that me and the kids made this morning.”
“Sounds perfect,” Louis said. His phone started ringing and he sighed, twisting around to glare at it. “I should--”
“It’s alright,” Harry said, taking Isabelle’s hand again when Louis set her down. “See you when you’re home.”
“See you then,” Louis said, reaching for the phone. “Thanks for lunch.”
“You’re welcome. I love you.”
“Love you too,” Louis said, smiling softly. He lifted the phone. The kids waved to him and then Harry started back the way he’d come and back toward home.
✺
Harry’s latest novel had hit the ground running. He’d even spoken to his editor earlier that week to adjust the schedule for his book launch. He was already ten thousand words into the third to last chapter. Unfortunately, right around there was when he fell asleep, sprawled on the living room couch with his laptop thrown across his lap.
He felt warm fingers slide through his hair and then Louis’ soft voice against his cheek. “Wake up, love.”
Harry inhaled deeply, turning his head along a throw pillow. He saw him there, still wearing his shirt and tie, though the first three buttons and the knot were loose. He smiled. Harry smiled back.
“Hi, babe,” he said. “What time is it?”
“About nine,” Louis said. “Kids went down alright?”
“Izzy put up a fuss as usual but it wasn’t so bad.” Harry sat upright, stretching his back out, and groaned. “I have to stop sleeping on this couch.”
Louis laughed. “Let’s go to bed.”
Harry got to his feet. “Did you eat? I left a plate for you in the microwave.”
“I just did. Thanks,” Louis said, yawning. They headed toward their room. Louis undressed so slowly and sleepily Harry nearly crossed the short distance to him and helped. But he didn’t have much energy himself. The kids had worn him out physically and his novel had drained him mentally.
They stood in the bathroom beside each other. Harry looped his hair into a bun and started to brush his teeth. Louis rested his head against the wall while he brushed too. They washed their faces in silence, pat themselves dry with towels, and shuffled back into their room. They peeled the duvet down, tossed themselves into their bed, and exhaled.
“Two more days until the weekend,” Harry said quietly.
Louis’ lips twitched. “Can’t wait.”
Harry pulled the duvet up to his chin. “Good night, Lou.”
“Good night, H,” Louis murmured, his eyes drifting closed.
Seconds later, they were both asleep.
✺
Harry was about fifty steps into the produce section when a Cosmo magazine caught his eye. He doubled back and took one, while Isabelle started reaching for the M&M’s. He took her hand and started toward the bananas.
He didn’t read Cosmo religiously but David Beckham was on the cover and he knew Louis would appreciate reading it. He didn’t look through it himself until he was back home and the kids were lying atop a quilt on the floor, watching LazyTown. He stretched his legs out, his toes brushing Zuko’s soft fur, and enjoyed every picture of David Beckham as he was meant to. He sipped his tea slowly and mourned when he reached the very last page of the spread. He was readying himself to start all over again when a headline in bright red jumped out at him.
What I Learned During My 30-Day Sex Challenge
Harry forgot about David for a moment and read on.
“My husband and I aren’t on the brink of divorce like some other couples who have taken this challenge, but with two children under four, two demanding careers, a dog, a cat, two cars, and a house to keep up, it can often seem like sex is the last thing either of us wants to do. So, time for a challenge, no?”
Already, Harry was locked into the article, mainly because he fit the exact description of the author. He thought about the idea of sex being the last thing either he or Louis wanted to do and found that was true. When it was late and Louis had just come home from work, all they wanted by then was to sleep. Even on weekends, they preferred to sleep, and the lack of sex never seemed like a loss to them because they weren’t thinking about it. He kept reading.
“I wanted to see what would happen if I committed to having sex with my husband every day. It was a challenge that he very happily accepted. We decided to do this for a month, and sometimes it was for 15 minutes and sometimes it was several hours, and it was fantastic. (Quickies can be just as rewarding as the hour-long sessions, especially when you have children banging on your bedroom door.)
“For me, a major component of good sex is feeling close to him and that is the part that lately has seemed a bit lost . Between the children, the jobs, and the constant struggle to pay the bills, cook the meals, pack the lunches, clean the dishes, make the bed, sweep the floors, walk the dog, and on and on, sometimes it seems like falling on the couch and watching TV and sleeping are the only thing we want to do. Gone are the days where we used to bring books to bed early, chat for hours, have a little sex, and then sleep all cuddled together.
“We fall asleep on the couch now by 10, stumble up to bed by midnight, and by 1 a.m. we have usually had at least one bathroom wake-up call from our 4-year-old and often one from the dog, as well. Sleep is the priority. Sex (and all the intimacy that accompanies it)? Not so much. So we are ripe for a change.”
Harry lowered the magazine, staring off through the window. He tried to remember the last time he’d had sex with Louis and couldn’t. Was it a week ago or two or three? Was it longer than that? Had he thoroughly enjoyed it? Had it been passionate? He had no answers at all.
“Retaining intimacy with your partner takes work. When bogged down with family, work and life in general, it’s so easy to forget the whole reason you came together in the first place. A sense of disconnect happens, which eventually causes laziness. We eventually stop trying. DON’T EVER STOP TRYING! Eventually you both will be laughing like teenagers, making you ever wonder why you stopped being sexy crazy intimate in the first place. While taking this challenge, I know at the end of the day, no matter how stressful or annoying, I will get a little bit of close, intimate time with my best friend, and that makes every day worth it!”
With the article finished, Harry cradled his forehead in his palm while Izzy sang along to the programme on TV and George babbled nonsensically. He thought about Louis, about his marriage, and began slowly to slip into a panic.
He used to crave sex with Louis. They did it a lot and they did it all. He never knew he could have sex so explosive and dynamic until they met. He found himself wanting things that he never had with anyone else and Louis was always right there with him, always up for it... literally .
He remembered how wild they’d been, how little they controlled their passion for one another. He remembered them sucking each other off in the loo at Bolton Museum. He remembered fucking Louis in the cupboard of his childhood bedroom while his family chatted just downstairs. He remembered Louis fucking him in a tent at Leeds, a hand pressed firmly to his mouth so their neighbors camping nearby wouldn’t hear. The dirty words mumbled into each other’s ears. The teasing and spanking. The positions. The toys. They tried everything, wore each other out unapologetically and always came back for more.
Harry didn’t resent his children and never could. But things changed drastically once he and Louis set their minds on expanding their family. And he missed the days now when they were young and only had each other. He sat there on the couch trying to suppress his panic as he realized with sudden distressing clarity that he may have lost it.
That bright, glorious period when they worshipped each other's bodies and touched without ceasing.
He may have lost it and never noticed until now.
He felt a tug on the bottom of his shirt and lifted his head. Isabelle stood there, peering up at him. “Daddy, I’m hungry,” she said. “Get me fruit snacks!"
The fog in his mind cleared. He sighed and set the magazine aside. "How do you ask nicely?"
"Please," she said.
"Can you say it nicely in a question?" Harry asked, lifting his brows.
"Daddy, can you please get me fruit snacks?" And when she said ‘please’, she signed the word like Louis had taught her. Harry smiled and stood, sweeping her up into his arms.
“Alright,” he said and headed into the kitchen. “Let’s go get fruit snacks.”
✺
He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
About that fucking article and his sad, expired sex life.
Louis came home late again, looking exhausted as always, and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. He hadn't spoken much since then. He disappeared into the kids’ room for a bit to check on them and kiss them goodnight. He ate his dinner standing in the kitchen while Harry tidied up the living room. The only sound from him was the soft clinking of his fork against his plate.
Afterwards, Harry had said, "I'm getting ready for bed," and he'd left to do so.
He lowered the book in his hands slightly as Louis entered their room wordlessly, went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Harry was tired enough that he might not make it through the next chapter of his book, some sci-fi romance novel that only made him miss the glory days. Everything since that article made him miss the glory days. He’d seen a can of whipped cream in the fridge and thought of the times they’d licked dollops of it from each other’s skin. He’d stood in the shower and thought of how many clever ways they’d pleased each other beneath the spray. Or soaking in the tub. Or bent over the sink.
Jesus, what had happened to them? What was happening to him?
Louis came back into the room, feet padding on the floor, and slipped into bed beside him. Harry looked at him and received a soft smile. Louis lay there in silence for a bit longer and Harry tried and failed to read.
"Good book?" Louis asked.
Harry shrugged. "Good so far. Was starting to get a little weird."
"How so?"
"I think the narrator might be the same boy that the main character meets on the train. But I also think it might be her future husband. It's possible that the boy on the train and the future husband are the same person. Lots of time-hopping."
“Hm,” Louis hummed, curiously. "I'll have to read it when you're finished."
"You should," Harry said. He sighed, closed the book and set it aside. Shuffling down into the covers, he turned his body to face Louis’. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Louis said with a quiet, sleepy laugh.
Without allowing himself to think about it for too long, Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to Louis’ mouth, one that was maybe more intense than either of them were prepared for. Louis’ brow furrowed as they parted. Harry looked at his mouth, his soft, rosy treasure of a mouth, and leaned in again. Louis made a soft, muffled noise when their tongues met. His hand lifted to cup Harry’s cheek. He kissed him back for several seconds until Harry dropped a hand to his waist and squeezed. He pulled back, breath gone a little ragged.
“I’m exhausted, H.”
Harry licked his lips. “I know,” he said quietly.
“Let’s try again this weekend,” Louis murmured, patting his hip. “Okay?”
They always tried on the weekend. Usually they were too exhausted with the children then too. Harry nodded, resting his head against his pillow, and Louis wrapped his arm around his waist, shuffling close.
“I love you,” Louis said.
Harry smiled. He knew that. He just wanted to feel it too. He wanted them to tell each other so with their hands and their mouths and the passion they had when they first met.
“I love you too,” he said.
They grew quiet then, their breathing softening and steadying. Louis fell asleep first. Harry stayed awake long afterwards, devising a plan.
✺
On Friday, Harry took the kids out for lunch and to the park afterwards. He got some writing done while George snoozed on the blanket between him and Zuko, and Izzy ran around with the other kids at the playground. Harry finished his chapter by the time she returned to him, complaining that she was tired and wanted snacks. He packed up their blanket and took them both home.
They all napped until dinner time. Louis was home much earlier than usual with enough time to eat with them, change his clothes and sit around with the kids afterwards. Harry watched him, making faces at George and tickling Izzy. He was loveliest like this, comfortable and at peace, with the sleeves of his jumper pushed up to his elbows and his kids climbing all over him, ruining his hair, patting his cheeks.
Louis carried George to bed first. Izzy fought sleep as hard as she could but Harry took her to bed anyway, ignoring her protests.
“I’m having a glass of wine,” Louis said. “Want one?”
“Yes, please,” Harry said, shutting the kid’s bedroom door.
They went to their own room and got into bed. Harry patted the mattress for Zuko to hop up and lie at their feet. Ziggy curled herself into the space between them. Reclining and stretching his legs out, Louis surfed the channels on the TV. Minutes trickled onward.
Harry set his book aside. Louis’ blue eyes were trained on the telly, eyelashes low as he grew sleepy and the wine took effect on him. His hand rested idly on his tummy. His hair fell gently across his forehead. He looked soft and warm. Harry knew his skin would feel exactly so. He knew he’d taste sweet like the red wine.
“We should have sex.”
Louis turned his head. A beat of silence passed. “ Now ?” he asked.
“Why not?” Harry said with a shrug.
Louis’ brows furrowed. He glanced at the TV again and then licked his top lip, his tongue touching his moustache. Harry wouldn’t admit it but he loved that.
“You want a blow job?” Louis asked half-heartedly.
Harry frowned. He dropped his head to his pillow and threw an arm over his eyes. “I don’t know anymore,” he said morbidly.
The bed sheets rustled beside him. He felt Louis’ eyes on him, knew he was sitting upright now, watching him carefully. “What's wrong?” he said. “You’ve been weird since yesterday.”
Harry sighed loudly, a great breath of air through his nose, and sat upright as well.
“We might be having a crisis.”
Louis looked at him. “What kind of crisis?” he said slowly.
“Like a marital crisis,” Harry said.
Louis’ brows and lips twitched. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, a small burst of laughter tumbling free regardless.
“Louis,” Harry said firmly. “I’m serious.”
Louis’ smile dissipated and he blinked. “Shit, are you really?” His Adam’s apple bobbed and again, he licked his lips. He looked down at the duvet as he spoke, “I didn’t know things were at a crisis level between us.”
“Not entirely. But in terms of intimacy , I’d say they are.”
“Intimacy,” Louis repeated.
“Yes,” Harry said. “When is the last time we had sex and how much did you enjoy it?”
Louis pursed his lips. He stared off at a random spot in the room. “Okay, I can’t remember,” he said after several seconds. “But I’m sure I enjoyed it a lot.”
“You’re lying,” Harry said, sadly. “We don’t have sex.”
“We have sex,” Louis muttered. “We do.”
Harry shook his head. “Not like we used to.”
Understanding dawned on Louis’ face. He dragged a hand over his scruffy chin. “We were younger then.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
Louis sighed. “No, it’s not.”
“We used to make love,” Harry said.
Louis smiled. He reached out and set a hand on Harry’s elbow. “We can do that,” he said gently, his thumb brushing Harry’s skin.
Harry looked at him intently. “We used to fuck.”
Slowly, Louis dropped his hand and leaned back on the bed, spreading his palms behind him. Both brows arched. His smile turned to a smirk. “We can do that too.”
“I don’t mean just tonight,” Harry said, exhaling.
Another wave of confusion passed over Louis’ face. “I’m listening.”
“I mean every night,” Harry said. “For the next month. Every day of October.”
Louis’ eyes narrowed. “You want to have sex...every day...for a month ?”
“Yes. It’s an actual thing people do. It’s in that magazine with David Beckham on the cover,” Harry explained. “It’s called the 30-Day Sex Challenge. Couples commit to having sex for thirty days. No skipping days. No exceptions.”
Louis scratched a spot on his jaw. “And you want us to do this?”
“Yes.”
“For thirty days?”
Harry groaned and laughed at the same time. “ Yes .”
Louis looked at him and Harry waited patiently for his reply. They sat there, arms crossed and eyes locked. Louis smiled. “Okay, I’m in.”
A laugh slipped from Harry’s mouth. “Really?”
“Yes,” Louis said, chuckling. “When do we start?”
Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he thought. “We should wait until tomorrow to officially start,” he decided. “We need time to prepare ourselves. I want us to do the things we did when we were younger. I want us to resurrect all those kinks. All that freaky shit under the bed.”
“Bringing out the big guns?”
“Absolutely,” Harry said, grinning.
“I’ll have to start dusting it all off then,” Louis said and they laughed and giggled like they were the rosy-cheeked boys who’d fallen in love way too quickly and never regretted a thing.
“ But ,” Harry said. “Talking about all this has gotten me little hot.”
“Me too,” Louis confessed, shuffling closer. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “So?”
Harry leaned in. “So...” he murmured, meeting Louis’ mouth for a deep kiss. He reached for his soft jumper and peeled it off. “It begins.”