my body leans on only you - 1D: Harry/Louis; minor OMC/Louis - 2/2
(Continued from here.)
The thing is, Harry keeps telling Louis versions of see you when I see you but, whilst he’s not particularly proud of being so bold so early on, he knows where to find him as he remains at his father’s. Louis has a few more days until Australia, so decides to make the most of it.
He’s pretty sure that lightning strikes within him whenever he and Harry are in the same room and feels a spark in his chest as he eventually locates him by the indoor pool. The very pool Louis had been in the last time they were in this house together. He’s crouching by the edge as Louis shuffles in, his fingertips barely grazing the surface of the water. It was always difficult not to notice how big Harry’s hands are, how could you not, quite frankly, but now Louis’ not just looking, he’s appreciating and wanting and the facts are clear. He has no doubt he could probably do a lot of good with those hands.
“Hi.”
Harry pulls up to his full height, smiling. “Hello.”
“Yeah, I was, uh, checking up on my dad, y’know.” he says shakily, mouth gone dry. “Except I forgot that he’s back in work because he’s a workaholic and he doesn’t really need me to...yeah, so. Here I am.”
It’s the worst lie he’s ever told and they both know it. Somehow the ridiculousness of the situation makes a grin burst onto his face, eyes nearly closing from how full his smile is.
“It’s nice to see you.”
“Because I have a nice face, right?” Harry’s face is blank with confusion, which has Louis giggling even more as the thought that he’s forgetful is actually downright adorable. “Sorry, that was a terrible joke. It’s nice to see you too.”
He touches his neck and looks up as he slowly walks forward, Harry’s gaze hungrily tracking his fingers as they slip down from his collarbone to relax at his side. He made sure to wear a t-shirt under his open denim coat that was low enough to show them and his tattoos off and it seems to be having the desired effect. Harry looks pristine as per usual, this time in a navy three piece suit and pale blue shirt, top button undone.
“Shouldn’t you be packing for Australia?” he enquires politely, but his eyes are blown.
It reminds Louis too much of a man he no longer wants to think about, so he bats the question away with a dismissive wave. “Lottie has a birthday coming up in a few days. She’s having a party, god help us all, so I’ll be here for that and then...” He’s rather done with talking. “Shouldn’t you be in work?”
He can obviously tell. “It can wait.”
Louis still feels like he barely knows anything of value about Harry, but he’s always so taken in by him, by how he’s so confident that everything will sort itself out. It’s an enticing way of thinking and Louis steps into his orbit, ready with his mouth and his hands and the rest of his body.
He takes the first kiss slowly, sinking into each other again, and presses his smile into Harry’s mouth when he keeps his eyes open. The colour of his irises shine like peridot in the late afternoon, too lovely to dim by drawing the long blinds over the big windows beside them. They risk being seen from the garden and maybe that’s why Harry’s posture feels rigid under Louis’ hands on his shoulders, but he can’t make his feet move. Instead, he tempts Harry away from thought altogether, shifting into his personal space and taking hold of his face to give him his tongue. He tastes like expensive coffee and shortbread biscuits, a well earned break that Louis is determined to use to his advantage as his fingers start to absently toy with Harry’s lapels.
Harry follows his lead, pulling his coat off his shoulders before Louis helps to shrug it from his arms. He pays it no mind when it falls to the tiles with a muted thump, shivering jerkily for a second as Harry cups the nape of his neck with one hand and slides the other round to his lower back to bring Louis tight against his frame. Suitably engrossed, it’s harder to concentrate since Harry is kissing back with interest, but Louis rests his palms on his chest and sets to work on the many buttons cascading down his front. He tries to savour the moment as each square of skin is revealed under his fingers until he comes up for air and looks down to catch a glimpse of a tattoo curling up to Harry’s collarbones. He’s guilty for thinking that he doesn’t seem the type, but it’s there in black and white as Louis finishes undoing most of the buttons and pushes the jacket, waistcoat and shirt to hang at his broad shoulders. His eyes roam intently along the many places where ink permeates Harry’s pale skin, his fingers lightly tracing the shapes, and he decides that it makes him seem more playful, encouraging Louis to show his own. He bites his lip, an edge of self-conscious coyness in his expression, and lifts his t-shirt over his head to drop it carelessly to join his coat. Harry makes to reach for him and Louis grins wide enough that his eyes shut into happy lines to see him try and get rid of his jacket and waistcoat with his hands wedged inside the cuffs of his shirt, restricting movement.
“C’mere, you,” he rolls his eyes fondly at the struggling flap of sleeves in his face and Harry’s frown. “Did no one ever teach you to undo the buttons first, eh?”
His eyes flutter once as he feels Harry kiss him tenderly on the forehead in thanks and he returns the gesture to the corner of his pink pout and rubs his fingertips over Harry’s wrists, raising his eyebrows at a further collection of tiny tattooed marks. He hopes with time that he’ll get the chance to find them all.
Both of them half naked, Louis grasps Harry’s hand and walks towards the wide chaise lounge set by the window. It looks like it could be a very ornate bed with the size of it, piled high with sumptuously coloured pillows and cushions, as Harry crowds him against its sturdy, gilded foot and nuzzles into his neck, arms circling around his middle. Louis lets himself be selfish for a second, closing his eyes to Harry’s touch that’s cautiously and attentively exploring. A shudder rocks through him when he feels Harry’s teeth nip gently at his earlobe and thumbs brush his nipples, a double whammy of sensation that reminds him that this may be nice but he can’t wait to feel a lot more.
Harry’s warming up to things too, a half-hard press against the back of Louis’ sweatpants, so he turns slowly to face him, except Harry takes it as an invitation to tease his nipples again and Louis sees his lips part in fascinated wonder as he hunches forward to deter another attack, biting Harry right under his jawbone in revenge. He sucks on the skin for luck, getting a kick out of how he tenses in surprise, before Louis trails his mouth from there and stops at the wing of a bird to wiggle Harry’s belt and zipper open to reach for him inside.
He’s warm and long in his palm and Louis perches on the chaise to get a good look as well. His body is almost too good to be true in its magnificence, like something straight out of Louis’ dreams that the likes of Andrew could sadly never measure up to. He’s a classic shape - angular in his broad shoulders and smaller waist - like the body of a protector or warrior, someone capable enough to walk to the ends of the earth, if indeed it was possible.
Eyes stay fixed on Louis as he leans in to softly kiss below Harry’s bellybutton and then, after a breath, the tip of his erection. When he glances up to check that he’s still on board with everything, the shock of heat in Harry’s stare makes him rock the heel of his hand between his own legs as he grabs around the root of Harry with the other. To begin with, it’s a little awkward. Not wrong exactly, just different because it’s new, he is a new person to learn. It should make Louis feel that there is distance between them but, when Harry slides his fingers through his fringe and back to rest on the crown of his head, the gentle reverence draws him closer, expanding Louis’ chest with relief and affection and a soaring sense that this could be bigger than was expected.
As he works his mouth down, Harry makes his first uncontrolled noise. Up to now, he’s been so calm and collected that Louis worried that his time in a long-term relationship might mean his skills would be just as stale, so the low hum of pleasure is the greatest boost, enough to want him to really show off. Confident that he’s staying right where he’s put, Louis stops slowly tugging at the rest of him to place his hand on Harry’s lower back, feeling the muscles flex as he pauses his sucking then takes him all the way, pushing him to tilt his hips forward until they meet. In the few seconds he controls his breathing and swallows to the sound of Harry’s shaky, deep moan, Louis squeezes himself hard in his underwear and any skin of Harry’s he can touch at the same time, from his sharp sides to the fuzzy backs of his lean, quivering thighs.
“Wow,” he wheezes as Louis pulls off and leaves a wet kiss over the tattoo near his hip, “wow, incredible, Lou,”
It’s the first time he’s addressed him by something other than ‘Louis’ and he looks almost as out of breath, his glossy-eyed, flushed demeanour a reflection of Louis’ own. “What,” he croaks, eyes smiling up at him, “you never had anyone do that to you? Ever?” Harry blinks and opens his mouth, but Louis tangles his freed up hand with his. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know. You’re here and that’s what matters.”
He nods, thumbing thoughtfully at Louis’ cheek. “Again?”
“Oh you’re greedy!” he exclaims with no small amount of glee, yanking his arm. Harry twists to land on his back on the chaise, Louis wasting no time in removing his crumpled trousers then crawling onto all fours above him. “Hi,” he says, separating carefully coiffed curls with his fingers, “Got you right where I want you.”
He leans in and feels Harry cup his head, causing shivers that shoot to his toes and a spike of arousal to render him incapable of anything but kissing for several endless minutes. When he’s mindlessly rocking their hips together and his hands have moved to roam Harry’s torso, Louis pushes his fingertips onto his plush, inviting mouth.
“Wait,” he pants into Harry’s neck, “I thought you said you wanted it again? I’ll make it worth your while. Get myself ready for you to have your way with me.”
He feels Harry swallow against where his mouth rests and thinks about leaving a lovebite before Harry lifts his hips, a sign of agreeable desire. He’s a hardened line pressed to Louis’ belly and he wants it however he’s willing to give it, which he has his answer when Harry plays determinedly with the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Shuffling away with a smirk, Louis quickly drops them to end the trail of clothes started poolside before settling between Harry’s legs where, even with thighs spread, there’s plenty of room. He gets comfortable on his stomach, the fabric soft beneath his naked body, and regards Harry from under his fringe.
“Don’t come.” he says, a warning glint in his eye.
Louis knows it’s hard not to as he licks at the obscenely pink head with wicked little flicks of his tongue, a quick tease before he goes to town, sucking at Harry fast and wet. He moans around him, a wrecked whisper of his former voice, as Harry’s abs clench rhythmically against the open palm Louis rests there and feels his chin dampen as he forgets a lot of finesse in favour of wanting to show him a good time. When he dares to look up, Harry’s still blinking like he’s in a syrupy daze and his own hand twitches buried in Louis’ hair. Realising he can stick to not wanting Harry to come yet or say to hell with it, Louis bobs down a few more enthusiastic times then wrenches his mouth away and grips him tight, making him gasp.
“Sorry, I know,” he soothes, risking a couple of slow pulls with his fist to placate. “But can you hand me that?”
He nods to the lube sitting on the small wooden carved table next to the chaise, his insides swooping at the thought that Harry is ready for him and still aching to come. Harry turns his cheek to look at it then to Louis, seemingly clueless. Going with the smug theory that he’s successfully made him unable to think properly, Louis rolls his eyes with a fond tilt to his smile and straddles him to make it easy to get the lube. When he goes to move off him, Harry’s hands come up to hold his waist, big and strong, and his lips pucker over his nipple. Louis’ hips jerk, the lube slipping from his grasp in surprise, as he ducks his head to chase Harry’s eager mouth. He’s at once aware that he’s sat on Harry’s bare lap and reminded of what comes next when Harry insistently palms at the round of his arse amidst their drawn-out, thorough kissing.
He leans over the edge of the chaise where the lube has fallen to the tiles and stretches to get it, pushing his knees against Harry to keep his balance, but fails on his first attempt as lips press playfully to his ribs and the tops of his shoulders. Louis swats at him half-heartedly, laughing and trying to wriggle away from the light, sweet kisses and the feel of Harry’s hands all over his body, and snatches at the bottle with one more herculean effort. When he straightens up, Harry has settled back down in place to stare up at him, right into Louis’ eyes - his soul - as if he’s in complete awe of everything he is and a fresh wave of want sparks between them. Pouring lube into his palm, Louis rolls his hips back subtly as he wets a couple of Harry’s fingers with soft, slow strokes and watches how his mouth slackens beautifully. He always lives for that split second when his partners realise that he’s done with teasing.
Kneeling up, he guides Harry’s hand round and, as he seems a little overwhelmed already, takes him wordlessly through what to do. After he’s grinding onto two of Harry’s fingers, he finally lets go of Harry’s wrist to pitch forward. “Kiss me,” he whispers, nudging his nose next to Harry’s until he complies with gentle ease. Louis holds himself up by one hand and uses the other to quickly palm himself before he reaches behind to join Harry’s and squeezes in a third of his own, his spine a glorious curve as his front strains towards Harry’s broad chest and they stretch him open together.
There’s a flash of a frown on Harry’s face when Louis deems himself ready and climbs off to settle beside him on the chaise. His legs have started to feel tingly and jelly-like from the press of Harry’s slowly moving fingers, their reactions mirrored as Harry watched him start to unravel with eyes brightly focused and kiss-swollen lips. His eyebrows rise a little into his tousled hairline when Louis pulls him over to blanket his body and smudges a kiss into his cheek as he slides inside inch by achingly wonderful inch. It seems that if he thought Louis’ mouth on him was the best experience he’d ever had then he hadn’t counted on what being this intimate would be like. He hears Harry breathe out raggedly near his ear and cups his face to look at him as he takes stock of the moment himself, Harry a thick, hard presence that he’ll need him to move soon. He makes a vague questioning noise as butterflies rage in his tummy and nods with their foreheads touching when Harry blinks slowly. It’s uncertain but sweetly so and something in Louis tells him that Harry will know what’s right without even being told so he grips onto him tighter, lifting his legs to cross his ankles and pushes his heels into Harry’s back to spur him on to begin the careful, rocking thrusts.
It doesn’t take long for Louis to trust him - a little voice says somehow he has from the moment they met - and all that’s left is to cling on and enjoy, shuddering as Harry keeps a steady pace and sticks close by, Louis’ trembling hands fixed to his back and eyelashes casting wild, fluttering shadows on his cheekbones from the touch of Harry’s warm, soft lips to his throat.
“Oh,” he gasps, as his body goes suddenly taut in surprise before he digs his fingers harder into Harry’s shoulder blades, letting him know he’s doing good. “Oh my god.” He starts to shiver through the light sheen of sweat on his skin as Harry pauses then seemingly screws in deeper to encourage more of those breathy noises out of him, his full length felt inside Louis from the tips of his messy hair to his curling toes and the feeling builds from a tingle to a burst of sensation. “Yeah, keep - oh! I’m coming, come with me, come with me - ”
A rumble of hurried agreement comes from Harry; their entwined bodies creating almost the right friction Louis needs until a sure palm closes around him to tug him along. Secluded in this room where the sounds of their lovemaking would be distant at best if anyone was even home, Louis lets one overwhelmed cry out loud with eyes squeezed shut as he pulls hard on the nearest errant curl of Harry’s hair and smears sticky-wet between them. The shock of being seized like that in their embrace and the look of pure bliss on Louis’ face has Harry following quickly, tumbling and tumbling as Louis lays pliant through the shivery aftershocks and stares at how Harry breaks apart too, wanting nothing more to be held warm and secure in his arms.
He gets his wish without having to say a word and whilst he is rather boneless on top of him, Louis wouldn’t have him be anywhere else, not just yet. With his hip and thigh on the chaise after he’s slowly withdrawn, Harry’s skin is still warm like a cosy fire against Louis’ as the rest of his limbs lay comfortably over him like a blanket and Louis can’t resist putting his lips tenderly to a lightly muscled shoulder.
“That was amazing.” he smiles drowsily, flushed with pleasure before his eyes turn shy. “What about, uh, you? How was it?”
Harry’s face is relaxed in serious honesty. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to be so polite,” he grins briefly, eyes crinkling happily, “but you’re welcome. Most glowing review ever really.” In the midst of tracing the dip of his collarbone with a light fingertip, he stops to poke into the wing of a bird as Harry’s focus starts to strangely drift away. “Hey, stay with me.”
“I am. I’m here.” he insists quietly after the shortest pause, sliding his hand round to cover the sweaty nape of Louis’ neck, his thumb stroking behind his ear. “I’m here.”
Despite wanting to know everything that’s still a thrilling mystery all at once, Louis lets it go. As long as he gets snacks.
He sends Harry off with a lewd comment about renewing their energy and lounges like a very satisfied prince for 0.2 seconds before he wonders whether Harry even knows where the kitchen is and where to find anything when he gets there. At least Louis had made sure that he looked sort of decent, staring giddily with only a cashmere throw blanket previously hanging from the arm of the chaise to casually cover his own modesty as Harry pulled on his trousers without underwear and left his shirt untucked and half buttoned up. He’d kissed Louis slow and gentle on both cheeks, making him want to drag him under again. Now he’s had enough of waiting and goes to find him.
He walks down the corridors with a spring in his step, wearing the look of someone that tells everyone else he just got laid and puts his hands to the kitchen door to enter but doesn’t quite make it inside. It’s open enough already to give him a view of Harry and to hear the voice of someone else. Barefoot and dressed in boxer briefs with his t-shirt on inside out, Louis leans on the jamb to listen.
“ - I don’t want you seeing my son.” his dad says.
Louis raises his eyebrows at the statement, confused as to why he sounds so sure and stern.
“I have to keep my eyes open; otherwise I won’t see where I’m going.” Harry replies lightly.
“Don’t be a bloody smartarse with me!” he hisses, obviously not finding any of it funny as Louis covers his mouth to not give his hiding place away over something as silly as laughter. “I don’t want you having a relationship with him. I forbid it. End of discussion.”
Harry steps away from the island at that and Louis suddenly isn’t so amused, pressing his face closer to track him with one eye. He had been thinking about joining them because if they were going to talk about him then he deserved to be a part of it too and yet it felt tense enough, at least from his dad’s side, which made him want to hold back and choose his moment carefully.
“With all due respect, I think Louis’ old enough to choose who he wants to be with. I’m in love with him - ”
“ - No - ” his dad shakes his head, trying raise his voice as Harry halts in front of him.
“ - And he’s in love with me.”
“He loves you? Ha!” he crows mirthlessly. His face falls quickly into a sneer as he gets right in Harry’s face, jabbing a finger close to his chest. “You were never supposed to see him again after that day. Does he know who you really are, eh? Have you told him that? I should sack you on the spot!”
“Go ahead,” he replies, indifferent. “None of that matters.”
Louis sucks in a shocked breath. He feels dizzy; completely bewildered as to where Harry’s innate politeness has escaped to and why his dad is being quite so prickly and protective over what happens in his love life. Considering they’ve been so chummy in such a short space of time, Louis had thought that his dad might be happy for them. What the mother of his son had always told him to fill his dreams was actually coming true. He and Andrew weren’t meant to be because the one for him was standing in their kitchen now almost like he owned it, like he could easily belong. It wasn’t much of a leap when, since his arrival, all his dad had done is invite him to share everything - the food in his house, the work at his firm and precious time with his family, which might explain why Harry hasn’t shrunk away at all, not fearing the snap of remarkable restraint like Louis is. If anything, he seems confident that he’ll keep the upper hand and live to tell the tale. Louis has no doubt that he will make a magnificent barrister.
“May I take this opportunity,” he says in a voice so low that Louis has to strain to pick out the words, “to remind you of our...arrangement.”
“Fuck the arrangement!” he spits crossly, yanking Harry in with fistfuls of his shirt.
Harry shows no signs of reaction, not from the back at least. “Careful, Mark. You don’t want to cross any lines.”
“You listen here, you little - ” he starts through clenched teeth before a pause. He continues, softer. “All I care about is my children’s happiness and I don’t like how you’re weaving your spell.”
“I am weaving no spell. This is happening and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop it. There’s no way back and that’s final.” As if to prove his point, said in the same slow drawl he always uses, Harry brushes invisible lint off the other man’s suit shoulders and Louis watches with wide eyes as the grasp on his shirt drops. A quiet look of defeat is written all over his dad’s face when Harry spins on his heel, smile as innocent as newborn kittens. “I hope you have a lovely afternoon.”
Louis knows he has seconds to make sure he’s not caught spying and runs into the nearest bathroom, hoping Harry doesn’t hear the slap of his feet as he exits the kitchen close behind. Safe in an actual room, Louis peers through the crack he left in this door to see Harry leave without any food - damn it - and disappear back to the pool.
Louis blows out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and shuts the door by leaning on it in relief. He’s excited to know that Harry loves him and he’s fairly certain he’s fallen too, but he’s also breathless that Harry stood up like that to a rather powerful man. It seemed like nothing and that nobody fazes him, except maybe when he looks at Louis sometimes like he can’t believe he’s real, as if he’s experiencing certain emotions for the very first time. It covers all the gaps he is yet to fill about Harry and convinces him that they needn’t rush. They can learn that stuff later. Surely what’s most important is how appreciated Harry makes him feel.
If his dad can’t at least see that then it’s definitely his problem.
--
With Australia looming ever closer, suddenly it’s the morning of Lottie’s birthday. Both of Louis’ parents agreed to make a little more fuss than usual because of its milestone status, much to his sister’s delight. His dad offered to book the party into one of his favourite hotels to give Louis a break from “the chaos of teenage girls”, even though he wouldn’t have minded holding it at his place. It’s not as if he’s never had a wild night or two himself and he’s obviously invited to it anyway, but if there’s one thing he shares with his dad, its obstinacy and Louis makes his way over his dad’s house to come face-to-face with celebration mania.
Tens of people in chefs’ whites and waiting staff uniforms rush back and forth from hallway to hallway, shouting instructions whilst struggling to juggle food and the finest cookware as elegantly wrapped gifts sit piled at the foot of the staircase, just asking to be tripped over. The house is filled with the distant clang of pots and pans, the hiss of steam and purr of the oven that no one really knows how to use except hired staff or probably Louis’ own mum. He’d actually woken up at his house with a note from Jay pinned onto the fridge with the Statue of Liberty magnet he brought back from New York, letting him know that she’d taken a taxi here with his three younger sisters whilst Lottie went off to be pampered with her friends that had made it down from their home for the occasion. She’d also told him to get as much sleep as possible. Of course, that meant he threw on sniff-tested grey sweatpants, the nearest band t-shirt and a soft green hoodie that helplessly reminded him of the colour of Harry’s hypnotising eyes to hightail it to his dad’s to get stuck in. Okay and to see Harry again. It’s perhaps a little weird that he doesn’t own a mobile phone, so Louis has literally not seen him since the last time they were together, but he can’t deny that the thrill of when they meet is more potent because of it. Its old fashioned almost, more romantic than any filthy text messages or phone sex could ever be.
He’s so swept away by the giddiest of feelings that he only narrowly misses colliding with a clipboard-holding woman barking orders into a headset, whirling towards the sound of his dad’s voice.
“Louis, lad! Excellent! An extra pair of hands.”
He looks around, slightly confused, as he grabs his elbow. “Um, what do you need me for? Seems like you’ve got a whole army on site this morning.”
“Oh I know. I just want everything to be perfect for tonight. Lottie is not to worry about a single thing.” Louis can’t help his incredulous expression until the surprise wears off quickly and he grins, stopping their walk down the echoing hallway to put his hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, relax. As long as she has her mates and her family don’t embarrass her, I’m sure she’ll love it.” He waits for the nod, reluctantly given, because sometimes he does talk some sense. “Okay, so unless you want me to look after the twins for a bit while you and Mum do...whatever’s left, where can I find Harry?”
His dad’s gaze snaps up to his face, but his eyes are soft. “Ah. Yes. Harry. I wanted to have a few words with you actually. Come on, we can pop in here.”
Louis feels his insides drop to his feet as he follows him into the small study that’s used as a library rather than the work he does in his office upstairs. His dad plucks two ties off a nearby dresser and turns towards the mirror hanging over the unlit fireplace as Louis feels like a lemon standing in the middle of the room. However, with a couple of steps backwards, his hand finds the solid oak of the desk and he leans onto it, trying for casual but probably looking awkward. His dad doesn’t seem to notice, too busy swapping the ties in front of his neck.
“I’m not sure Harry’s going to be around for much longer.” he finally says to his reflection.
Louis raises his eyebrows. It’s the first he’s heard of Harry going away from him. “Where’s he going?”
“I...” His dad hesitates. “I can’t say.”
“This man never leaves your side, has had your ear since the day everyone found out you knew each other, and you can’t tell me anything? As your son asking you a question? Not even where he’s off to?”
“Now look here,” he snaps irritably, “I know me and your mum weren’t particularly thrilled when you started a relationship with Andrew, but don’t you think it’s time you stopped running away, were adult about this and patched things up? He’s a good man, Lou.”
A lump forms instinctively in his throat at the mention of his name, emotions swirling from sadness to rage. Nobody heard the way Andrew spoke to him the afternoon by the pool and probably never will. It’s not that important anymore. Nobody except Harry. “Running - what?” he chokes out, “Me and Andrew are over. Finished forever. And, I hate to admit it, but before then it happened y’know. How Mum used to say that the person I want to be with should want it as much as I do, should be crazy with it, that if I left myself open then lightning could strike? Well, it has, Dad. I’m in love with Harry.”
“I don’t care if you love him!” he roars suddenly, banging his hand on the dresser and making Louis flinch in shock. After a tense moment of silence, their eyes line up through the mirror. He puts down the ties with a deflated sigh, turning around. “Believe me when I say this. I know he’s not right for you, son.”
His gaze is soft again, but his words are still harsh in Louis’ ears as his heartbeat bids for freedom from inside his chest and he feels like he could shake apart on the spot. He swallows hard, the lump staying present for entirely different reasons. He nods his head, stroking fingertips along his mouth as he stares down at his feet.
“Okay.” he whispers. “Okay.”
He walks out the door and doesn’t look back.
--
Despite part of him wishing to wallow in the hurt, Louis makes it to the hotel hours later, hanging onto his previous dreamy mood because he knows he’ll see Harry. Whatever his dad’s change of heart, Louis knows he wouldn’t risk upsetting Lottie for anything by causing a commotion like refusing Harry entry when he’s had dinner with the whole family and been introduced to them as someone to trust.
Still, he’s a little surprised that when he walks in to the main room to see Harry and his dad stood in conversation on the opposite side. His body jerks naturally to go over and intervene before something tells him to look at the scene properly first. He grabs a champagne flute of Bucks fizz out of a passing girl’s hand (she looks far too young for it) and stares at the two men across the way. Whilst they aren’t in a secretive looking huddle anymore, the communication isn’t particularly frosty either, as Louis would’ve expected since hearing his father’s opinion that morning. If anything, Harry looks contrite, like he’s apologising for something.
Louis has to blink out of it to realise when Harry has finally noticed him and he knows he’s welcome to meet him in the middle, happy chatter and music all around them. He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of how well Harry wears a suit. He’s plumped for a classic - all black with a white shirt and skinny tie and he’s obviously tried to tone it down from full on dinner suit, but between him and Louis’ dad and it seems every other adult male here, Louis feels slightly underdressed in his rolled up dark wash jeans, t-shirt and blazer and smart brogues, even if it’s something he’d be likely to wear to a film premiere.
“You look so sexy tonight.” he smirks, leaning in to Harry’s ear with a hand rested against his collarbone. “Too sexy in a room full of screechy 16 year olds. But I still wish you could fuck me right here. I miss having you inside me so much.” The line of his body stiffens in reaction. Louis pulls away in surprise, searching his face for why. “What’s wrong? Am I coming on too strong? Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I - ” he stops abruptly as Harry grabs his hand from his chest to press a gentle, chaste kiss to his upturned palm. “Harry, what’s going on? Talk to me, please.”
The intense stare returns, but instead of making Louis want to shiver by recognising the hunger, Harry simply looks immeasurably sad. “I have to go.”
“But you’ve barely been here an hour! What’s the rush?”
He shakes his head. “No, baby. I’m leaving London. Tonight.”
Louis feels his stomach drop, his hand now clasped between both of Harry’s. His dad had told him as much, but a small part of him was maybe hoping that he’d said it to put him off pursuing a steady relationship with Harry, regardless of how he already felt. Then it hits him. They’ve never said anything close to love out loud. He’s pretty sure it’s in the way they act around each other that something deeply personal is there, but he still feels a need to put a name to what he feels.
Aware that they’re sort of blocking the area to later be used as a dancefloor, Louis looks for a suitable place for them to talk and pulls Harry to a corner that’s far, far away from his parents and siblings. He takes a deep breath in, the sound of his exhale trembling from his lips but his gaze unwavering in studying the pale beauty of Harry’s face.
“In that case,” he starts, voice breaking with nerves, “I guess you should know that I’ve fallen in love with a man I never expected to come into my life. I don’t know much about him at all, yeah, but it doesn’t change the way he makes me feel, like I’m the only person he sees in the room. Tonight he’s leaving and I don’t know why or for how long.”
He throws his arms around Harry’s neck in a tight hug, rising on tiptoes to keep the contact all along their bodies, and couldn’t care less that it might be a tad uncomfortable for Harry. Through the ache of unshed tears, he manages to dredge up a smile from somewhere as Harry tucks his face down onto his shoulder and squeezes his arms where they circle his slim waist. His voice is muffled when he speaks.
“This is so hard. I’m in love with the most beautiful, generous man and I don’t want to leave him. I really don’t.”
Louis pushes him back. “Then why are you? I know I have my own thing soon, but you could come with me. You can meet the boys, I’m sure they’d love you.” A watery grin crinkles his eyes as he thinks on that first meeting. “Y’know, It’s so strange because that morning in the café in Camden? I freaked out a bit, inside. Especially when I told you about my mum and what she always said to me, to forget my head and listen to my heart and eventually I’d find someone special. Don’t know when or how, but it’ll happen, and you finished my sentence like it’d been you talking all along. You said that lightning would strike. I’ve never had someone react like that before. You changed me, Harry.”
For several seconds, Harry seems to be looking for something Louis can’t decipher and he lets him take his time because he’s trying so hard to keep himself together. “I said that?”
“Yeah, there you were, at my favourite place. And you said that you lucked out that morning because I was funny and had a nice face. Well, I think you’re all those things and more.”
“At the café? In Camden? Lou...” His tilts his head on a slow blink, bringing a hand up to cup Louis’ cheek as he whispers, “May I kiss you?”
He nods his assent and Harry’s lips are so gentle, pressing unhurriedly lest they break some quiet, loving spell and yet Louis’ head is spinning and his knees feel like they're going to buckle. He’s full of questions he can’t ignore the longer Harry looks at him like he’s something curiously fascinating, but instead of backing away, Louis clings onto his presence for as long as he’s allowed.
Harry is leaving. He’s still almost unknown. Louis’ listened to his heart and fallen for him anyway.
He can’t quite catch his breath when Harry’s hand slides against the nape of his neck, holding him close. “That felt different. Why? Harry, please. Why won’t you tell me anything about you?”
“I think you know.” he says into his ear. “Tell me what you see. Don’t be afraid, it’s okay.”
Louis does as he’s told, lulled by the deep timbre of his voice, and takes his time, searching for clues. Harry’s face is so still; his green eyes passive and cold, like he’s not there anymore. He doesn’t know about that morning. ‘Nice face’ isn’t a flirty joke. He can’t tell him the truth about who he is. He’s someplace else, with someone else.
He is someone else.
The stark realisation sends a chill down Louis’ spine, stealing his breath. He feels out the left side of Harry’s chest without looking, the thud of his heartbeat pulsing through his fingertips. He’s so proper and yet distractingly seductive with an added air of strange naivety over the smallest details of life that up until two seconds ago Louis found absolutely charming. Now it’s confusing and too much to handle.
“You’re - you’re - ” Overwhelmed, he can’t make the words - you’re someone else, you’re not Harry - come out and a fresh wave of tears spring to his eyes, sparkling blue. Harry’s expression intensifies again; gaze as sharp as needles and a window to what’s behind, making Louis hunch his shoulders around his ears. “- you’re...Harry.”
“Yes.” he whispers, dejection and heartache in his eyes because Louis can't say it. He won't. “I’m Harry. And trust me; you will always have what happened that morning in Camden.” The mere mention of it since what he knows has Louis yanking Harry into him by his lapels, afraid to let go through the stab of longing that makes his knees even weaker than before.
“Tell me that you love me now.” he breathes, desperate to hear it.
“I love you now. I love you forever. Lou?” Lips brush his forehead where they’re rested as he nods to Harry’s murmur. “Thank you for opening your heart.”
And then he leaves him standing, swaying on his feet, as his tears begin to fall.
--
After leaving the conversation with his dad in his study that morning, Louis had gone to check on his mum and his sisters to see if they really did need any help. Jay had taken one look at the misery carved into his face and pulled him into a hug as he blurted the whole tale out from the first meeting to realising his feelings for Harry ran deep. He didn’t want to think about his mum and dad fighting when things had settled quite well, so he’d neglected to mention the conversation he’d had that got him upset in the first place and left them all to it when his mum had reassured him that everything was under control.
“I can’t pretend I’m not relieved.” his dad is saying now as Louis stands with them both, moping in the middle of his sister’s birthday party. He’d told them that Harry had needed to leave London for good, plain and simple, because the truth was still a scary, heart-wrenching mess. “You’ve just come out of a relationship and Harry is not who you should be leaning on. I only want what’s best for you. Will you be alright?”
At least his dad’s intuition was right about that.
Louis’ body twitches in a sort of nod and shrug. “Yeah...I’ll be off on tour again soon. It’ll stop me from, like, thinking about it. And I know.” He finally looks him in the eye, sees genuine worry that makes his heart feel a bit lighter. “I know you love me and I’m sorry if I’ve been such a shit since you moved here. You’re the best dad anyone could ask for.”
He’s halfway to drawing him in for a hug when his dad’s face twists in a grimace and the reminder of his heart attack is like a bucket of ice dropped down the back of Louis’ shirt, but his concern is quickly flapped away and he squeezes his eyes shut to stop himself getting more emotional as arms tighten around his shoulders. His mum is hovering right there and Louis chokes on a giggle as she pushes a strand of his fringe away for him, the hug ending so he can fix it himself.
His dad clears his throat, picking up his drink from the table behind them. “Okay, I think it’s time. Behave yourself while I’m gone.”
Louis rolls his eyes and watches him stride away to take Lottie’s hand and pull her in front of everyone to make a start on his speech. Jay suddenly grabs Louis’ face between her hands and smacks a big kiss onto his cheek, wiping at the lipstick mark as his dad quiets the room.
“Good evening and welcome, everyone.” he smiles as Lottie shrinks into his side, embarrassed at being the centre of attention. Nothing like her big brother. “I’d just like to thank family and friends of all ages for being here to celebrate my little girl turning another year older.” He looks at his daughter, squeezing their clasped hands. “Charlotte, my Lottie, you grow more beautiful every day as I watch you turn into a lovely young lady anyone would be proud to know. And I am. I’m proud of all of my children and whatever they choose to be and it’s fantastic that we get to tip our hat to them on these wonderful occasions.
Whilst tonight is rightfully about my eldest daughter, I would also like to take this opportunity to wish my son well as he returns to that thing he calls a job with some group named One Something.” A collective titter ripples around the room as his eyes find Louis’ and Lottie groans a pitiful, drawn out “Dad!” for his attempt at humour. “Louis, look after yourself. Mum, your sisters and I hope you and the lads have a great tour in Australia.” His face is downright content, so instead of hamming it up, Louis takes his hand from his pocket and gives a small wave of recognition, feeling warm from head to toe with love. They’ve had a moment just like they used to, boys against the world or at least a house full of women, and Louis’ so caught up in happiness that he misses a whole chunk of his father’s speech until he sees his glass is in the air.
“Time flies when you’re having fun, love,” he says, looking a bit wobbly. Louis frowns, even as he dismisses it as a his sister being sixteen years old thing. “So I’ll end this here and you can get back to your friends, which I know you’re desperate to do.” There’s a fainter sound of mirth (Louis had forgotten how skilful he was at this, eloquence essential for his career) “I ask you to join me in wishing one of my babies a happy birthday and all of them well for the rest of the year. To Lottie.”
Once the toast is over, a few things happen fast. His dad makes it around to give everybody a squeeze that even includes his mum, Lottie gets to cut the spectacular tiered cake that’s been invitingly on display in the room and Louis manages to intercept her relieved journey back to her giggling friends to gather her into a lengthy hug. The more she protests, complaining of suffocation, the wider he smiles into her blonde hair and peppers her cheeks with kisses.
“I’ll give you the bumps later,” he wiggles his fingers in her face, trying for menacing. The moving eyebrows might lessen the effect. “You won’t know when I’ll strike, so watch out!”
As he secretly predicted, she waves him off like she thinks he’s ridiculous and increasingly unworthy of her cool time. It’s possible he’ll have to move his tricks onto Fizzy.
Lastly, his eyes do a double take by the door as some of the boring lightweight adults start leaving and a mop of curly hair pops back into the room. He shifts his gaze silently onto his dad, watching as he spots Harry too and begins to walk towards him. With all the affectionate protection from his dad tonight (and possibly since forever, if he’s honest with himself), Louis has the awful thought that he’s about to do something drastic and out of character like punch Harry in the face for breaking his son’s heart and that’s what gets him moving, happy to see his mum distracted by his cousins.
However, he’s still confused when their exchange seems perfectly civil and Harry leaves again, but with his dad in tow. He reasons that maybe they’re taking it outside and follows them just to check that nothing gets out of hand. Louis doesn’t really want his dad to wallop Harry one, except maybe the universe thinks differently because he forgot that they were in a function room at a posh hotel and there’s people everywhere. Finally stumbling into the chilly night air, his dad and Harry are ahead of him, but his call out to them dies on his tongue as they share a look so much like the ones they’ve shared since Louis found out that they knew each other, say a few words he’s too far away to hear and then slowly disappear around the corner.
Louis’ body makes an aborted move to run after them, his stunned heart disconcertingly out of time and he thinks he might be sick from the understanding of who - what - ‘Harry’ is and why because, after he’s blinked from staring, there’s only one person stepping down from the pavement across the street and it isn’t his father. Vision blurring, Louis presses his lips together as he numbly waits for him to arrive. He could see his smile from several paces back and he feels like he’s been turned upside down and shook when he clumsily trips over the kerb, righting himself just before he knocks face first into Louis or the concrete under their feet.
“You,” he exhales, astonished by this man who has appeared in front of him as if by magic and that Louis even remembers how to speak English with his mind cartwheeling all over the place. “It’s really you. Harry?”
If it’s possible, his grin becomes even bigger. “Hi! What’s this? You look incredible, Lou. Sorry, can I call you that? Can I say that? Because you really do. Wow. I thought I’d never get to see you again after that morning.”
It hits him that he’s not dreaming. Harry is here and he’s staring at Louis like he can’t believe he’s real as he mentions their first meeting as if he’s not had a single thought about anything else. Louis’ faint with puzzlement and a heavy sense of grief and he so wants to ask him where he went and how, but Harry’s pushing a hand through his curls and peering at the hotel in a way that says he’s never seen it before in his life, so Louis decides to let it rest and what comes out of his mouth in a whisper is:
“Camden.”
“Mmhm,” Harry nods, dimples out in force, “That’s right, that little place in Camden. You’re not easy to forget y’know. I guess lightning really did strike. Hey,” he says, his happy expression dimming warily when Louis can’t stop his lip from wobbling. It’s so much to take in. “Are you alright?”
He shrugs, helpless to explain what he feels right now. “Yeah, I think. It’s - this is crazy. We barely know each other. I mean, my family, they’re...” The sentence hangs as sensation crashes into him again, overwhelming until he covers his face in his hands. “I just wish, y’know. That my dad was here. I think he would’ve liked you.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Come here,” he implores in a deep, gentle voice and pulls him over to some quieter, darker space for an hugely warm hug as Louis lets a sob slip past his fingers. “I’m sure I would’ve liked him too.”
It feels like an eternity that he stands there in Harry’s arms and life goes on around them, logic telling them that this should feel mighty awkward, but it doesn’t. Okay, the hole inside his chest is trying to swallow Louis whole and yet he feels momentarily safe where he is so he stays. He risks everything one last time to forget his head and truly listen to his heart.
“What if the lightning thing is a load of crap?” he asks muffled into the place where Harry’s collarbone is beneath his white shirt, actually hoping that this time he’ll be allowed to fall in love in peace.
Harry grips him by his biceps to get a good look at his face, even if the teary visage is not one Louis wants him to have as a second memory. He smiles - Louis was correct; he’s definitely a smiler - when their eyes hesitantly meet. In the streaks of moonlight and streetlamp, he’s more gorgeous than ever before. “Only one way to find out.”
Harry drops a kiss to his Louis’ cheek and takes hold of his hand, tangling their fingers together.
Boys against the world.
fin.
The thing is, Harry keeps telling Louis versions of see you when I see you but, whilst he’s not particularly proud of being so bold so early on, he knows where to find him as he remains at his father’s. Louis has a few more days until Australia, so decides to make the most of it.
He’s pretty sure that lightning strikes within him whenever he and Harry are in the same room and feels a spark in his chest as he eventually locates him by the indoor pool. The very pool Louis had been in the last time they were in this house together. He’s crouching by the edge as Louis shuffles in, his fingertips barely grazing the surface of the water. It was always difficult not to notice how big Harry’s hands are, how could you not, quite frankly, but now Louis’ not just looking, he’s appreciating and wanting and the facts are clear. He has no doubt he could probably do a lot of good with those hands.
“Hi.”
Harry pulls up to his full height, smiling. “Hello.”
“Yeah, I was, uh, checking up on my dad, y’know.” he says shakily, mouth gone dry. “Except I forgot that he’s back in work because he’s a workaholic and he doesn’t really need me to...yeah, so. Here I am.”
It’s the worst lie he’s ever told and they both know it. Somehow the ridiculousness of the situation makes a grin burst onto his face, eyes nearly closing from how full his smile is.
“It’s nice to see you.”
“Because I have a nice face, right?” Harry’s face is blank with confusion, which has Louis giggling even more as the thought that he’s forgetful is actually downright adorable. “Sorry, that was a terrible joke. It’s nice to see you too.”
He touches his neck and looks up as he slowly walks forward, Harry’s gaze hungrily tracking his fingers as they slip down from his collarbone to relax at his side. He made sure to wear a t-shirt under his open denim coat that was low enough to show them and his tattoos off and it seems to be having the desired effect. Harry looks pristine as per usual, this time in a navy three piece suit and pale blue shirt, top button undone.
“Shouldn’t you be packing for Australia?” he enquires politely, but his eyes are blown.
It reminds Louis too much of a man he no longer wants to think about, so he bats the question away with a dismissive wave. “Lottie has a birthday coming up in a few days. She’s having a party, god help us all, so I’ll be here for that and then...” He’s rather done with talking. “Shouldn’t you be in work?”
He can obviously tell. “It can wait.”
Louis still feels like he barely knows anything of value about Harry, but he’s always so taken in by him, by how he’s so confident that everything will sort itself out. It’s an enticing way of thinking and Louis steps into his orbit, ready with his mouth and his hands and the rest of his body.
He takes the first kiss slowly, sinking into each other again, and presses his smile into Harry’s mouth when he keeps his eyes open. The colour of his irises shine like peridot in the late afternoon, too lovely to dim by drawing the long blinds over the big windows beside them. They risk being seen from the garden and maybe that’s why Harry’s posture feels rigid under Louis’ hands on his shoulders, but he can’t make his feet move. Instead, he tempts Harry away from thought altogether, shifting into his personal space and taking hold of his face to give him his tongue. He tastes like expensive coffee and shortbread biscuits, a well earned break that Louis is determined to use to his advantage as his fingers start to absently toy with Harry’s lapels.
Harry follows his lead, pulling his coat off his shoulders before Louis helps to shrug it from his arms. He pays it no mind when it falls to the tiles with a muted thump, shivering jerkily for a second as Harry cups the nape of his neck with one hand and slides the other round to his lower back to bring Louis tight against his frame. Suitably engrossed, it’s harder to concentrate since Harry is kissing back with interest, but Louis rests his palms on his chest and sets to work on the many buttons cascading down his front. He tries to savour the moment as each square of skin is revealed under his fingers until he comes up for air and looks down to catch a glimpse of a tattoo curling up to Harry’s collarbones. He’s guilty for thinking that he doesn’t seem the type, but it’s there in black and white as Louis finishes undoing most of the buttons and pushes the jacket, waistcoat and shirt to hang at his broad shoulders. His eyes roam intently along the many places where ink permeates Harry’s pale skin, his fingers lightly tracing the shapes, and he decides that it makes him seem more playful, encouraging Louis to show his own. He bites his lip, an edge of self-conscious coyness in his expression, and lifts his t-shirt over his head to drop it carelessly to join his coat. Harry makes to reach for him and Louis grins wide enough that his eyes shut into happy lines to see him try and get rid of his jacket and waistcoat with his hands wedged inside the cuffs of his shirt, restricting movement.
“C’mere, you,” he rolls his eyes fondly at the struggling flap of sleeves in his face and Harry’s frown. “Did no one ever teach you to undo the buttons first, eh?”
His eyes flutter once as he feels Harry kiss him tenderly on the forehead in thanks and he returns the gesture to the corner of his pink pout and rubs his fingertips over Harry’s wrists, raising his eyebrows at a further collection of tiny tattooed marks. He hopes with time that he’ll get the chance to find them all.
Both of them half naked, Louis grasps Harry’s hand and walks towards the wide chaise lounge set by the window. It looks like it could be a very ornate bed with the size of it, piled high with sumptuously coloured pillows and cushions, as Harry crowds him against its sturdy, gilded foot and nuzzles into his neck, arms circling around his middle. Louis lets himself be selfish for a second, closing his eyes to Harry’s touch that’s cautiously and attentively exploring. A shudder rocks through him when he feels Harry’s teeth nip gently at his earlobe and thumbs brush his nipples, a double whammy of sensation that reminds him that this may be nice but he can’t wait to feel a lot more.
Harry’s warming up to things too, a half-hard press against the back of Louis’ sweatpants, so he turns slowly to face him, except Harry takes it as an invitation to tease his nipples again and Louis sees his lips part in fascinated wonder as he hunches forward to deter another attack, biting Harry right under his jawbone in revenge. He sucks on the skin for luck, getting a kick out of how he tenses in surprise, before Louis trails his mouth from there and stops at the wing of a bird to wiggle Harry’s belt and zipper open to reach for him inside.
He’s warm and long in his palm and Louis perches on the chaise to get a good look as well. His body is almost too good to be true in its magnificence, like something straight out of Louis’ dreams that the likes of Andrew could sadly never measure up to. He’s a classic shape - angular in his broad shoulders and smaller waist - like the body of a protector or warrior, someone capable enough to walk to the ends of the earth, if indeed it was possible.
Eyes stay fixed on Louis as he leans in to softly kiss below Harry’s bellybutton and then, after a breath, the tip of his erection. When he glances up to check that he’s still on board with everything, the shock of heat in Harry’s stare makes him rock the heel of his hand between his own legs as he grabs around the root of Harry with the other. To begin with, it’s a little awkward. Not wrong exactly, just different because it’s new, he is a new person to learn. It should make Louis feel that there is distance between them but, when Harry slides his fingers through his fringe and back to rest on the crown of his head, the gentle reverence draws him closer, expanding Louis’ chest with relief and affection and a soaring sense that this could be bigger than was expected.
As he works his mouth down, Harry makes his first uncontrolled noise. Up to now, he’s been so calm and collected that Louis worried that his time in a long-term relationship might mean his skills would be just as stale, so the low hum of pleasure is the greatest boost, enough to want him to really show off. Confident that he’s staying right where he’s put, Louis stops slowly tugging at the rest of him to place his hand on Harry’s lower back, feeling the muscles flex as he pauses his sucking then takes him all the way, pushing him to tilt his hips forward until they meet. In the few seconds he controls his breathing and swallows to the sound of Harry’s shaky, deep moan, Louis squeezes himself hard in his underwear and any skin of Harry’s he can touch at the same time, from his sharp sides to the fuzzy backs of his lean, quivering thighs.
“Wow,” he wheezes as Louis pulls off and leaves a wet kiss over the tattoo near his hip, “wow, incredible, Lou,”
It’s the first time he’s addressed him by something other than ‘Louis’ and he looks almost as out of breath, his glossy-eyed, flushed demeanour a reflection of Louis’ own. “What,” he croaks, eyes smiling up at him, “you never had anyone do that to you? Ever?” Harry blinks and opens his mouth, but Louis tangles his freed up hand with his. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know. You’re here and that’s what matters.”
He nods, thumbing thoughtfully at Louis’ cheek. “Again?”
“Oh you’re greedy!” he exclaims with no small amount of glee, yanking his arm. Harry twists to land on his back on the chaise, Louis wasting no time in removing his crumpled trousers then crawling onto all fours above him. “Hi,” he says, separating carefully coiffed curls with his fingers, “Got you right where I want you.”
He leans in and feels Harry cup his head, causing shivers that shoot to his toes and a spike of arousal to render him incapable of anything but kissing for several endless minutes. When he’s mindlessly rocking their hips together and his hands have moved to roam Harry’s torso, Louis pushes his fingertips onto his plush, inviting mouth.
“Wait,” he pants into Harry’s neck, “I thought you said you wanted it again? I’ll make it worth your while. Get myself ready for you to have your way with me.”
He feels Harry swallow against where his mouth rests and thinks about leaving a lovebite before Harry lifts his hips, a sign of agreeable desire. He’s a hardened line pressed to Louis’ belly and he wants it however he’s willing to give it, which he has his answer when Harry plays determinedly with the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Shuffling away with a smirk, Louis quickly drops them to end the trail of clothes started poolside before settling between Harry’s legs where, even with thighs spread, there’s plenty of room. He gets comfortable on his stomach, the fabric soft beneath his naked body, and regards Harry from under his fringe.
“Don’t come.” he says, a warning glint in his eye.
Louis knows it’s hard not to as he licks at the obscenely pink head with wicked little flicks of his tongue, a quick tease before he goes to town, sucking at Harry fast and wet. He moans around him, a wrecked whisper of his former voice, as Harry’s abs clench rhythmically against the open palm Louis rests there and feels his chin dampen as he forgets a lot of finesse in favour of wanting to show him a good time. When he dares to look up, Harry’s still blinking like he’s in a syrupy daze and his own hand twitches buried in Louis’ hair. Realising he can stick to not wanting Harry to come yet or say to hell with it, Louis bobs down a few more enthusiastic times then wrenches his mouth away and grips him tight, making him gasp.
“Sorry, I know,” he soothes, risking a couple of slow pulls with his fist to placate. “But can you hand me that?”
He nods to the lube sitting on the small wooden carved table next to the chaise, his insides swooping at the thought that Harry is ready for him and still aching to come. Harry turns his cheek to look at it then to Louis, seemingly clueless. Going with the smug theory that he’s successfully made him unable to think properly, Louis rolls his eyes with a fond tilt to his smile and straddles him to make it easy to get the lube. When he goes to move off him, Harry’s hands come up to hold his waist, big and strong, and his lips pucker over his nipple. Louis’ hips jerk, the lube slipping from his grasp in surprise, as he ducks his head to chase Harry’s eager mouth. He’s at once aware that he’s sat on Harry’s bare lap and reminded of what comes next when Harry insistently palms at the round of his arse amidst their drawn-out, thorough kissing.
He leans over the edge of the chaise where the lube has fallen to the tiles and stretches to get it, pushing his knees against Harry to keep his balance, but fails on his first attempt as lips press playfully to his ribs and the tops of his shoulders. Louis swats at him half-heartedly, laughing and trying to wriggle away from the light, sweet kisses and the feel of Harry’s hands all over his body, and snatches at the bottle with one more herculean effort. When he straightens up, Harry has settled back down in place to stare up at him, right into Louis’ eyes - his soul - as if he’s in complete awe of everything he is and a fresh wave of want sparks between them. Pouring lube into his palm, Louis rolls his hips back subtly as he wets a couple of Harry’s fingers with soft, slow strokes and watches how his mouth slackens beautifully. He always lives for that split second when his partners realise that he’s done with teasing.
Kneeling up, he guides Harry’s hand round and, as he seems a little overwhelmed already, takes him wordlessly through what to do. After he’s grinding onto two of Harry’s fingers, he finally lets go of Harry’s wrist to pitch forward. “Kiss me,” he whispers, nudging his nose next to Harry’s until he complies with gentle ease. Louis holds himself up by one hand and uses the other to quickly palm himself before he reaches behind to join Harry’s and squeezes in a third of his own, his spine a glorious curve as his front strains towards Harry’s broad chest and they stretch him open together.
There’s a flash of a frown on Harry’s face when Louis deems himself ready and climbs off to settle beside him on the chaise. His legs have started to feel tingly and jelly-like from the press of Harry’s slowly moving fingers, their reactions mirrored as Harry watched him start to unravel with eyes brightly focused and kiss-swollen lips. His eyebrows rise a little into his tousled hairline when Louis pulls him over to blanket his body and smudges a kiss into his cheek as he slides inside inch by achingly wonderful inch. It seems that if he thought Louis’ mouth on him was the best experience he’d ever had then he hadn’t counted on what being this intimate would be like. He hears Harry breathe out raggedly near his ear and cups his face to look at him as he takes stock of the moment himself, Harry a thick, hard presence that he’ll need him to move soon. He makes a vague questioning noise as butterflies rage in his tummy and nods with their foreheads touching when Harry blinks slowly. It’s uncertain but sweetly so and something in Louis tells him that Harry will know what’s right without even being told so he grips onto him tighter, lifting his legs to cross his ankles and pushes his heels into Harry’s back to spur him on to begin the careful, rocking thrusts.
It doesn’t take long for Louis to trust him - a little voice says somehow he has from the moment they met - and all that’s left is to cling on and enjoy, shuddering as Harry keeps a steady pace and sticks close by, Louis’ trembling hands fixed to his back and eyelashes casting wild, fluttering shadows on his cheekbones from the touch of Harry’s warm, soft lips to his throat.
“Oh,” he gasps, as his body goes suddenly taut in surprise before he digs his fingers harder into Harry’s shoulder blades, letting him know he’s doing good. “Oh my god.” He starts to shiver through the light sheen of sweat on his skin as Harry pauses then seemingly screws in deeper to encourage more of those breathy noises out of him, his full length felt inside Louis from the tips of his messy hair to his curling toes and the feeling builds from a tingle to a burst of sensation. “Yeah, keep - oh! I’m coming, come with me, come with me - ”
A rumble of hurried agreement comes from Harry; their entwined bodies creating almost the right friction Louis needs until a sure palm closes around him to tug him along. Secluded in this room where the sounds of their lovemaking would be distant at best if anyone was even home, Louis lets one overwhelmed cry out loud with eyes squeezed shut as he pulls hard on the nearest errant curl of Harry’s hair and smears sticky-wet between them. The shock of being seized like that in their embrace and the look of pure bliss on Louis’ face has Harry following quickly, tumbling and tumbling as Louis lays pliant through the shivery aftershocks and stares at how Harry breaks apart too, wanting nothing more to be held warm and secure in his arms.
He gets his wish without having to say a word and whilst he is rather boneless on top of him, Louis wouldn’t have him be anywhere else, not just yet. With his hip and thigh on the chaise after he’s slowly withdrawn, Harry’s skin is still warm like a cosy fire against Louis’ as the rest of his limbs lay comfortably over him like a blanket and Louis can’t resist putting his lips tenderly to a lightly muscled shoulder.
“That was amazing.” he smiles drowsily, flushed with pleasure before his eyes turn shy. “What about, uh, you? How was it?”
Harry’s face is relaxed in serious honesty. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to be so polite,” he grins briefly, eyes crinkling happily, “but you’re welcome. Most glowing review ever really.” In the midst of tracing the dip of his collarbone with a light fingertip, he stops to poke into the wing of a bird as Harry’s focus starts to strangely drift away. “Hey, stay with me.”
“I am. I’m here.” he insists quietly after the shortest pause, sliding his hand round to cover the sweaty nape of Louis’ neck, his thumb stroking behind his ear. “I’m here.”
Despite wanting to know everything that’s still a thrilling mystery all at once, Louis lets it go. As long as he gets snacks.
He sends Harry off with a lewd comment about renewing their energy and lounges like a very satisfied prince for 0.2 seconds before he wonders whether Harry even knows where the kitchen is and where to find anything when he gets there. At least Louis had made sure that he looked sort of decent, staring giddily with only a cashmere throw blanket previously hanging from the arm of the chaise to casually cover his own modesty as Harry pulled on his trousers without underwear and left his shirt untucked and half buttoned up. He’d kissed Louis slow and gentle on both cheeks, making him want to drag him under again. Now he’s had enough of waiting and goes to find him.
He walks down the corridors with a spring in his step, wearing the look of someone that tells everyone else he just got laid and puts his hands to the kitchen door to enter but doesn’t quite make it inside. It’s open enough already to give him a view of Harry and to hear the voice of someone else. Barefoot and dressed in boxer briefs with his t-shirt on inside out, Louis leans on the jamb to listen.
“ - I don’t want you seeing my son.” his dad says.
Louis raises his eyebrows at the statement, confused as to why he sounds so sure and stern.
“I have to keep my eyes open; otherwise I won’t see where I’m going.” Harry replies lightly.
“Don’t be a bloody smartarse with me!” he hisses, obviously not finding any of it funny as Louis covers his mouth to not give his hiding place away over something as silly as laughter. “I don’t want you having a relationship with him. I forbid it. End of discussion.”
Harry steps away from the island at that and Louis suddenly isn’t so amused, pressing his face closer to track him with one eye. He had been thinking about joining them because if they were going to talk about him then he deserved to be a part of it too and yet it felt tense enough, at least from his dad’s side, which made him want to hold back and choose his moment carefully.
“With all due respect, I think Louis’ old enough to choose who he wants to be with. I’m in love with him - ”
“ - No - ” his dad shakes his head, trying raise his voice as Harry halts in front of him.
“ - And he’s in love with me.”
“He loves you? Ha!” he crows mirthlessly. His face falls quickly into a sneer as he gets right in Harry’s face, jabbing a finger close to his chest. “You were never supposed to see him again after that day. Does he know who you really are, eh? Have you told him that? I should sack you on the spot!”
“Go ahead,” he replies, indifferent. “None of that matters.”
Louis sucks in a shocked breath. He feels dizzy; completely bewildered as to where Harry’s innate politeness has escaped to and why his dad is being quite so prickly and protective over what happens in his love life. Considering they’ve been so chummy in such a short space of time, Louis had thought that his dad might be happy for them. What the mother of his son had always told him to fill his dreams was actually coming true. He and Andrew weren’t meant to be because the one for him was standing in their kitchen now almost like he owned it, like he could easily belong. It wasn’t much of a leap when, since his arrival, all his dad had done is invite him to share everything - the food in his house, the work at his firm and precious time with his family, which might explain why Harry hasn’t shrunk away at all, not fearing the snap of remarkable restraint like Louis is. If anything, he seems confident that he’ll keep the upper hand and live to tell the tale. Louis has no doubt that he will make a magnificent barrister.
“May I take this opportunity,” he says in a voice so low that Louis has to strain to pick out the words, “to remind you of our...arrangement.”
“Fuck the arrangement!” he spits crossly, yanking Harry in with fistfuls of his shirt.
Harry shows no signs of reaction, not from the back at least. “Careful, Mark. You don’t want to cross any lines.”
“You listen here, you little - ” he starts through clenched teeth before a pause. He continues, softer. “All I care about is my children’s happiness and I don’t like how you’re weaving your spell.”
“I am weaving no spell. This is happening and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop it. There’s no way back and that’s final.” As if to prove his point, said in the same slow drawl he always uses, Harry brushes invisible lint off the other man’s suit shoulders and Louis watches with wide eyes as the grasp on his shirt drops. A quiet look of defeat is written all over his dad’s face when Harry spins on his heel, smile as innocent as newborn kittens. “I hope you have a lovely afternoon.”
Louis knows he has seconds to make sure he’s not caught spying and runs into the nearest bathroom, hoping Harry doesn’t hear the slap of his feet as he exits the kitchen close behind. Safe in an actual room, Louis peers through the crack he left in this door to see Harry leave without any food - damn it - and disappear back to the pool.
Louis blows out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and shuts the door by leaning on it in relief. He’s excited to know that Harry loves him and he’s fairly certain he’s fallen too, but he’s also breathless that Harry stood up like that to a rather powerful man. It seemed like nothing and that nobody fazes him, except maybe when he looks at Louis sometimes like he can’t believe he’s real, as if he’s experiencing certain emotions for the very first time. It covers all the gaps he is yet to fill about Harry and convinces him that they needn’t rush. They can learn that stuff later. Surely what’s most important is how appreciated Harry makes him feel.
If his dad can’t at least see that then it’s definitely his problem.
--
With Australia looming ever closer, suddenly it’s the morning of Lottie’s birthday. Both of Louis’ parents agreed to make a little more fuss than usual because of its milestone status, much to his sister’s delight. His dad offered to book the party into one of his favourite hotels to give Louis a break from “the chaos of teenage girls”, even though he wouldn’t have minded holding it at his place. It’s not as if he’s never had a wild night or two himself and he’s obviously invited to it anyway, but if there’s one thing he shares with his dad, its obstinacy and Louis makes his way over his dad’s house to come face-to-face with celebration mania.
Tens of people in chefs’ whites and waiting staff uniforms rush back and forth from hallway to hallway, shouting instructions whilst struggling to juggle food and the finest cookware as elegantly wrapped gifts sit piled at the foot of the staircase, just asking to be tripped over. The house is filled with the distant clang of pots and pans, the hiss of steam and purr of the oven that no one really knows how to use except hired staff or probably Louis’ own mum. He’d actually woken up at his house with a note from Jay pinned onto the fridge with the Statue of Liberty magnet he brought back from New York, letting him know that she’d taken a taxi here with his three younger sisters whilst Lottie went off to be pampered with her friends that had made it down from their home for the occasion. She’d also told him to get as much sleep as possible. Of course, that meant he threw on sniff-tested grey sweatpants, the nearest band t-shirt and a soft green hoodie that helplessly reminded him of the colour of Harry’s hypnotising eyes to hightail it to his dad’s to get stuck in. Okay and to see Harry again. It’s perhaps a little weird that he doesn’t own a mobile phone, so Louis has literally not seen him since the last time they were together, but he can’t deny that the thrill of when they meet is more potent because of it. Its old fashioned almost, more romantic than any filthy text messages or phone sex could ever be.
He’s so swept away by the giddiest of feelings that he only narrowly misses colliding with a clipboard-holding woman barking orders into a headset, whirling towards the sound of his dad’s voice.
“Louis, lad! Excellent! An extra pair of hands.”
He looks around, slightly confused, as he grabs his elbow. “Um, what do you need me for? Seems like you’ve got a whole army on site this morning.”
“Oh I know. I just want everything to be perfect for tonight. Lottie is not to worry about a single thing.” Louis can’t help his incredulous expression until the surprise wears off quickly and he grins, stopping their walk down the echoing hallway to put his hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, relax. As long as she has her mates and her family don’t embarrass her, I’m sure she’ll love it.” He waits for the nod, reluctantly given, because sometimes he does talk some sense. “Okay, so unless you want me to look after the twins for a bit while you and Mum do...whatever’s left, where can I find Harry?”
His dad’s gaze snaps up to his face, but his eyes are soft. “Ah. Yes. Harry. I wanted to have a few words with you actually. Come on, we can pop in here.”
Louis feels his insides drop to his feet as he follows him into the small study that’s used as a library rather than the work he does in his office upstairs. His dad plucks two ties off a nearby dresser and turns towards the mirror hanging over the unlit fireplace as Louis feels like a lemon standing in the middle of the room. However, with a couple of steps backwards, his hand finds the solid oak of the desk and he leans onto it, trying for casual but probably looking awkward. His dad doesn’t seem to notice, too busy swapping the ties in front of his neck.
“I’m not sure Harry’s going to be around for much longer.” he finally says to his reflection.
Louis raises his eyebrows. It’s the first he’s heard of Harry going away from him. “Where’s he going?”
“I...” His dad hesitates. “I can’t say.”
“This man never leaves your side, has had your ear since the day everyone found out you knew each other, and you can’t tell me anything? As your son asking you a question? Not even where he’s off to?”
“Now look here,” he snaps irritably, “I know me and your mum weren’t particularly thrilled when you started a relationship with Andrew, but don’t you think it’s time you stopped running away, were adult about this and patched things up? He’s a good man, Lou.”
A lump forms instinctively in his throat at the mention of his name, emotions swirling from sadness to rage. Nobody heard the way Andrew spoke to him the afternoon by the pool and probably never will. It’s not that important anymore. Nobody except Harry. “Running - what?” he chokes out, “Me and Andrew are over. Finished forever. And, I hate to admit it, but before then it happened y’know. How Mum used to say that the person I want to be with should want it as much as I do, should be crazy with it, that if I left myself open then lightning could strike? Well, it has, Dad. I’m in love with Harry.”
“I don’t care if you love him!” he roars suddenly, banging his hand on the dresser and making Louis flinch in shock. After a tense moment of silence, their eyes line up through the mirror. He puts down the ties with a deflated sigh, turning around. “Believe me when I say this. I know he’s not right for you, son.”
His gaze is soft again, but his words are still harsh in Louis’ ears as his heartbeat bids for freedom from inside his chest and he feels like he could shake apart on the spot. He swallows hard, the lump staying present for entirely different reasons. He nods his head, stroking fingertips along his mouth as he stares down at his feet.
“Okay.” he whispers. “Okay.”
He walks out the door and doesn’t look back.
--
Despite part of him wishing to wallow in the hurt, Louis makes it to the hotel hours later, hanging onto his previous dreamy mood because he knows he’ll see Harry. Whatever his dad’s change of heart, Louis knows he wouldn’t risk upsetting Lottie for anything by causing a commotion like refusing Harry entry when he’s had dinner with the whole family and been introduced to them as someone to trust.
Still, he’s a little surprised that when he walks in to the main room to see Harry and his dad stood in conversation on the opposite side. His body jerks naturally to go over and intervene before something tells him to look at the scene properly first. He grabs a champagne flute of Bucks fizz out of a passing girl’s hand (she looks far too young for it) and stares at the two men across the way. Whilst they aren’t in a secretive looking huddle anymore, the communication isn’t particularly frosty either, as Louis would’ve expected since hearing his father’s opinion that morning. If anything, Harry looks contrite, like he’s apologising for something.
Louis has to blink out of it to realise when Harry has finally noticed him and he knows he’s welcome to meet him in the middle, happy chatter and music all around them. He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of how well Harry wears a suit. He’s plumped for a classic - all black with a white shirt and skinny tie and he’s obviously tried to tone it down from full on dinner suit, but between him and Louis’ dad and it seems every other adult male here, Louis feels slightly underdressed in his rolled up dark wash jeans, t-shirt and blazer and smart brogues, even if it’s something he’d be likely to wear to a film premiere.
“You look so sexy tonight.” he smirks, leaning in to Harry’s ear with a hand rested against his collarbone. “Too sexy in a room full of screechy 16 year olds. But I still wish you could fuck me right here. I miss having you inside me so much.” The line of his body stiffens in reaction. Louis pulls away in surprise, searching his face for why. “What’s wrong? Am I coming on too strong? Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I - ” he stops abruptly as Harry grabs his hand from his chest to press a gentle, chaste kiss to his upturned palm. “Harry, what’s going on? Talk to me, please.”
The intense stare returns, but instead of making Louis want to shiver by recognising the hunger, Harry simply looks immeasurably sad. “I have to go.”
“But you’ve barely been here an hour! What’s the rush?”
He shakes his head. “No, baby. I’m leaving London. Tonight.”
Louis feels his stomach drop, his hand now clasped between both of Harry’s. His dad had told him as much, but a small part of him was maybe hoping that he’d said it to put him off pursuing a steady relationship with Harry, regardless of how he already felt. Then it hits him. They’ve never said anything close to love out loud. He’s pretty sure it’s in the way they act around each other that something deeply personal is there, but he still feels a need to put a name to what he feels.
Aware that they’re sort of blocking the area to later be used as a dancefloor, Louis looks for a suitable place for them to talk and pulls Harry to a corner that’s far, far away from his parents and siblings. He takes a deep breath in, the sound of his exhale trembling from his lips but his gaze unwavering in studying the pale beauty of Harry’s face.
“In that case,” he starts, voice breaking with nerves, “I guess you should know that I’ve fallen in love with a man I never expected to come into my life. I don’t know much about him at all, yeah, but it doesn’t change the way he makes me feel, like I’m the only person he sees in the room. Tonight he’s leaving and I don’t know why or for how long.”
He throws his arms around Harry’s neck in a tight hug, rising on tiptoes to keep the contact all along their bodies, and couldn’t care less that it might be a tad uncomfortable for Harry. Through the ache of unshed tears, he manages to dredge up a smile from somewhere as Harry tucks his face down onto his shoulder and squeezes his arms where they circle his slim waist. His voice is muffled when he speaks.
“This is so hard. I’m in love with the most beautiful, generous man and I don’t want to leave him. I really don’t.”
Louis pushes him back. “Then why are you? I know I have my own thing soon, but you could come with me. You can meet the boys, I’m sure they’d love you.” A watery grin crinkles his eyes as he thinks on that first meeting. “Y’know, It’s so strange because that morning in the café in Camden? I freaked out a bit, inside. Especially when I told you about my mum and what she always said to me, to forget my head and listen to my heart and eventually I’d find someone special. Don’t know when or how, but it’ll happen, and you finished my sentence like it’d been you talking all along. You said that lightning would strike. I’ve never had someone react like that before. You changed me, Harry.”
For several seconds, Harry seems to be looking for something Louis can’t decipher and he lets him take his time because he’s trying so hard to keep himself together. “I said that?”
“Yeah, there you were, at my favourite place. And you said that you lucked out that morning because I was funny and had a nice face. Well, I think you’re all those things and more.”
“At the café? In Camden? Lou...” His tilts his head on a slow blink, bringing a hand up to cup Louis’ cheek as he whispers, “May I kiss you?”
He nods his assent and Harry’s lips are so gentle, pressing unhurriedly lest they break some quiet, loving spell and yet Louis’ head is spinning and his knees feel like they're going to buckle. He’s full of questions he can’t ignore the longer Harry looks at him like he’s something curiously fascinating, but instead of backing away, Louis clings onto his presence for as long as he’s allowed.
Harry is leaving. He’s still almost unknown. Louis’ listened to his heart and fallen for him anyway.
He can’t quite catch his breath when Harry’s hand slides against the nape of his neck, holding him close. “That felt different. Why? Harry, please. Why won’t you tell me anything about you?”
“I think you know.” he says into his ear. “Tell me what you see. Don’t be afraid, it’s okay.”
Louis does as he’s told, lulled by the deep timbre of his voice, and takes his time, searching for clues. Harry’s face is so still; his green eyes passive and cold, like he’s not there anymore. He doesn’t know about that morning. ‘Nice face’ isn’t a flirty joke. He can’t tell him the truth about who he is. He’s someplace else, with someone else.
He is someone else.
The stark realisation sends a chill down Louis’ spine, stealing his breath. He feels out the left side of Harry’s chest without looking, the thud of his heartbeat pulsing through his fingertips. He’s so proper and yet distractingly seductive with an added air of strange naivety over the smallest details of life that up until two seconds ago Louis found absolutely charming. Now it’s confusing and too much to handle.
“You’re - you’re - ” Overwhelmed, he can’t make the words - you’re someone else, you’re not Harry - come out and a fresh wave of tears spring to his eyes, sparkling blue. Harry’s expression intensifies again; gaze as sharp as needles and a window to what’s behind, making Louis hunch his shoulders around his ears. “- you’re...Harry.”
“Yes.” he whispers, dejection and heartache in his eyes because Louis can't say it. He won't. “I’m Harry. And trust me; you will always have what happened that morning in Camden.” The mere mention of it since what he knows has Louis yanking Harry into him by his lapels, afraid to let go through the stab of longing that makes his knees even weaker than before.
“Tell me that you love me now.” he breathes, desperate to hear it.
“I love you now. I love you forever. Lou?” Lips brush his forehead where they’re rested as he nods to Harry’s murmur. “Thank you for opening your heart.”
And then he leaves him standing, swaying on his feet, as his tears begin to fall.
--
After leaving the conversation with his dad in his study that morning, Louis had gone to check on his mum and his sisters to see if they really did need any help. Jay had taken one look at the misery carved into his face and pulled him into a hug as he blurted the whole tale out from the first meeting to realising his feelings for Harry ran deep. He didn’t want to think about his mum and dad fighting when things had settled quite well, so he’d neglected to mention the conversation he’d had that got him upset in the first place and left them all to it when his mum had reassured him that everything was under control.
“I can’t pretend I’m not relieved.” his dad is saying now as Louis stands with them both, moping in the middle of his sister’s birthday party. He’d told them that Harry had needed to leave London for good, plain and simple, because the truth was still a scary, heart-wrenching mess. “You’ve just come out of a relationship and Harry is not who you should be leaning on. I only want what’s best for you. Will you be alright?”
At least his dad’s intuition was right about that.
Louis’ body twitches in a sort of nod and shrug. “Yeah...I’ll be off on tour again soon. It’ll stop me from, like, thinking about it. And I know.” He finally looks him in the eye, sees genuine worry that makes his heart feel a bit lighter. “I know you love me and I’m sorry if I’ve been such a shit since you moved here. You’re the best dad anyone could ask for.”
He’s halfway to drawing him in for a hug when his dad’s face twists in a grimace and the reminder of his heart attack is like a bucket of ice dropped down the back of Louis’ shirt, but his concern is quickly flapped away and he squeezes his eyes shut to stop himself getting more emotional as arms tighten around his shoulders. His mum is hovering right there and Louis chokes on a giggle as she pushes a strand of his fringe away for him, the hug ending so he can fix it himself.
His dad clears his throat, picking up his drink from the table behind them. “Okay, I think it’s time. Behave yourself while I’m gone.”
Louis rolls his eyes and watches him stride away to take Lottie’s hand and pull her in front of everyone to make a start on his speech. Jay suddenly grabs Louis’ face between her hands and smacks a big kiss onto his cheek, wiping at the lipstick mark as his dad quiets the room.
“Good evening and welcome, everyone.” he smiles as Lottie shrinks into his side, embarrassed at being the centre of attention. Nothing like her big brother. “I’d just like to thank family and friends of all ages for being here to celebrate my little girl turning another year older.” He looks at his daughter, squeezing their clasped hands. “Charlotte, my Lottie, you grow more beautiful every day as I watch you turn into a lovely young lady anyone would be proud to know. And I am. I’m proud of all of my children and whatever they choose to be and it’s fantastic that we get to tip our hat to them on these wonderful occasions.
Whilst tonight is rightfully about my eldest daughter, I would also like to take this opportunity to wish my son well as he returns to that thing he calls a job with some group named One Something.” A collective titter ripples around the room as his eyes find Louis’ and Lottie groans a pitiful, drawn out “Dad!” for his attempt at humour. “Louis, look after yourself. Mum, your sisters and I hope you and the lads have a great tour in Australia.” His face is downright content, so instead of hamming it up, Louis takes his hand from his pocket and gives a small wave of recognition, feeling warm from head to toe with love. They’ve had a moment just like they used to, boys against the world or at least a house full of women, and Louis’ so caught up in happiness that he misses a whole chunk of his father’s speech until he sees his glass is in the air.
“Time flies when you’re having fun, love,” he says, looking a bit wobbly. Louis frowns, even as he dismisses it as a his sister being sixteen years old thing. “So I’ll end this here and you can get back to your friends, which I know you’re desperate to do.” There’s a fainter sound of mirth (Louis had forgotten how skilful he was at this, eloquence essential for his career) “I ask you to join me in wishing one of my babies a happy birthday and all of them well for the rest of the year. To Lottie.”
Once the toast is over, a few things happen fast. His dad makes it around to give everybody a squeeze that even includes his mum, Lottie gets to cut the spectacular tiered cake that’s been invitingly on display in the room and Louis manages to intercept her relieved journey back to her giggling friends to gather her into a lengthy hug. The more she protests, complaining of suffocation, the wider he smiles into her blonde hair and peppers her cheeks with kisses.
“I’ll give you the bumps later,” he wiggles his fingers in her face, trying for menacing. The moving eyebrows might lessen the effect. “You won’t know when I’ll strike, so watch out!”
As he secretly predicted, she waves him off like she thinks he’s ridiculous and increasingly unworthy of her cool time. It’s possible he’ll have to move his tricks onto Fizzy.
Lastly, his eyes do a double take by the door as some of the boring lightweight adults start leaving and a mop of curly hair pops back into the room. He shifts his gaze silently onto his dad, watching as he spots Harry too and begins to walk towards him. With all the affectionate protection from his dad tonight (and possibly since forever, if he’s honest with himself), Louis has the awful thought that he’s about to do something drastic and out of character like punch Harry in the face for breaking his son’s heart and that’s what gets him moving, happy to see his mum distracted by his cousins.
However, he’s still confused when their exchange seems perfectly civil and Harry leaves again, but with his dad in tow. He reasons that maybe they’re taking it outside and follows them just to check that nothing gets out of hand. Louis doesn’t really want his dad to wallop Harry one, except maybe the universe thinks differently because he forgot that they were in a function room at a posh hotel and there’s people everywhere. Finally stumbling into the chilly night air, his dad and Harry are ahead of him, but his call out to them dies on his tongue as they share a look so much like the ones they’ve shared since Louis found out that they knew each other, say a few words he’s too far away to hear and then slowly disappear around the corner.
Louis’ body makes an aborted move to run after them, his stunned heart disconcertingly out of time and he thinks he might be sick from the understanding of who - what - ‘Harry’ is and why because, after he’s blinked from staring, there’s only one person stepping down from the pavement across the street and it isn’t his father. Vision blurring, Louis presses his lips together as he numbly waits for him to arrive. He could see his smile from several paces back and he feels like he’s been turned upside down and shook when he clumsily trips over the kerb, righting himself just before he knocks face first into Louis or the concrete under their feet.
“You,” he exhales, astonished by this man who has appeared in front of him as if by magic and that Louis even remembers how to speak English with his mind cartwheeling all over the place. “It’s really you. Harry?”
If it’s possible, his grin becomes even bigger. “Hi! What’s this? You look incredible, Lou. Sorry, can I call you that? Can I say that? Because you really do. Wow. I thought I’d never get to see you again after that morning.”
It hits him that he’s not dreaming. Harry is here and he’s staring at Louis like he can’t believe he’s real as he mentions their first meeting as if he’s not had a single thought about anything else. Louis’ faint with puzzlement and a heavy sense of grief and he so wants to ask him where he went and how, but Harry’s pushing a hand through his curls and peering at the hotel in a way that says he’s never seen it before in his life, so Louis decides to let it rest and what comes out of his mouth in a whisper is:
“Camden.”
“Mmhm,” Harry nods, dimples out in force, “That’s right, that little place in Camden. You’re not easy to forget y’know. I guess lightning really did strike. Hey,” he says, his happy expression dimming warily when Louis can’t stop his lip from wobbling. It’s so much to take in. “Are you alright?”
He shrugs, helpless to explain what he feels right now. “Yeah, I think. It’s - this is crazy. We barely know each other. I mean, my family, they’re...” The sentence hangs as sensation crashes into him again, overwhelming until he covers his face in his hands. “I just wish, y’know. That my dad was here. I think he would’ve liked you.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Come here,” he implores in a deep, gentle voice and pulls him over to some quieter, darker space for an hugely warm hug as Louis lets a sob slip past his fingers. “I’m sure I would’ve liked him too.”
It feels like an eternity that he stands there in Harry’s arms and life goes on around them, logic telling them that this should feel mighty awkward, but it doesn’t. Okay, the hole inside his chest is trying to swallow Louis whole and yet he feels momentarily safe where he is so he stays. He risks everything one last time to forget his head and truly listen to his heart.
“What if the lightning thing is a load of crap?” he asks muffled into the place where Harry’s collarbone is beneath his white shirt, actually hoping that this time he’ll be allowed to fall in love in peace.
Harry grips him by his biceps to get a good look at his face, even if the teary visage is not one Louis wants him to have as a second memory. He smiles - Louis was correct; he’s definitely a smiler - when their eyes hesitantly meet. In the streaks of moonlight and streetlamp, he’s more gorgeous than ever before. “Only one way to find out.”
Harry drops a kiss to his Louis’ cheek and takes hold of his hand, tangling their fingers together.
Boys against the world.
fin.