we took the slow way (lt/hs, zm/lp)
title: we took the slow way
pairings(s): louis tomlinson/harry styles, liam payne/zayn malik
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
word count: ~16,000
summary: AU. liam and louis teach kindergarten and harry styles has a kid and zayn is a dj and it's all very complicated for various reasons.
notes: a few things: a) this was written despite severe writer's block, so there's a warning right there. b) this has been a long time coming. c) i love you all so much it's crazy. d) huge thanks to the numerous people who have read over the first half of this, seriously.
Louis stumbles out of his bedroom at 6:30 in the morning. He’s wearing khakis and a button-up shirt and a skinny tie and he’s pretty sure he looks fantastic.
Zayn’s inexplicably sprawled on the couch watching early morning cartoons as Louis walks to the kitchen.
“You’re up early,” Louis comments.
Zayn arches his neck back to see Louis. “Haven’t actually gone to bed yet. Come here, let me look at you.”
Louis rolls his eyes and smiles a little, but comes over and stands in front of the television. Zayn’s eyes roam over his body appraisingly. He nods shortly, then some sort of realisation dawns on his face.
“Are you and Liam having another competition about how many moms hit on you?” Zayn says.
Louis gives him an appalled look. “Zayn Malik! That would be entirely inappropriate!”
Zayn’s looking distinctly unimpressed. “Liam’s going to win.”
“What? No, he’s not. Impossible. I am dashing. How could you say that?”
Zayn shrugs. “He’s hotter.”
“Impossible,” Louis says again. “You’re just trying to wound me now.”
“You also give off a distinct vibe, dude,” Zayn says.
Louis brightens. “Yes! I know. A dashing and handsome and rugged and sexy vibe.”
“I was thinking more of a gentleman of the back door kind of vibe.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “You desperately need some sensitivity training,” he says, as he starts again for the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Zayn calls after him. “You know me, always just hating on the gays.”
“It’s despicable and I feel unsafe around you!” Louis pours himself coffee and a bowl of cheerios. When did he become a grown-up? He’s pretty sure he’s not a grown-up. He’s pretty sure he hangs out with five and six year olds all day. He’s pretty sure he’s basically one of them.
Becoming a kindergarten teacher was never a goal of Louis’s. It just kind of happened. Things always just kind of happen. It kind of happened that after three years of an English degree at the University of Manchester, Louis stumbled onto an application to the University of Washington’s early childhood development program, and it just kind of happened that he qualified for some scholarships, and it just kind of happened that his mum approved, and it just kind of happened that he met some California stoner named Zayn, and it just kind of happened that they moved in with each other.
So, now he’s a kindergarten teacher at this intensely upper-class, intensely private elementary-middle school in Seattle and he’s wearing khakis daily and going to bed at a reasonable time and only drinking on weekends. He wakes up at 6 o’clock in the morning and he has cheerios for breakfast and he keeps up to date on current events and he shaves regularly. He drives a Toyota Corolla and he has more than twenty dollars in his checking account and it’s all very strange and foreign. He has no idea how he ended up here. The last five years were kind of a blur and when he thinks of all his mates back in Doncaster, working in the factories and the distribution centres, he cringes. Louis gets paid to hang out with five and six year olds all day. He kind of loves it.
“Zayn?” Louis says, loud enough to be heard over the television.
Zayn jerks a little, grunts. “What.”
“Am I boring?” he asks, swirling his spoon in his cheerios. They aren’t even honey-nut cheerios. Just boring, extra-fibre, low cholesterol cheerios.
“The boringest,” Zayn says. “The absolute most boring of all the borings. You might as well kill yourself. You used to be fun.”
“I’m still fun!” Louis protests.
Zayn turns on the couch around to stare at Louis, sitting at the counter. “You didn’t come out last Friday because you wanted to finish your book, dude.”
Louis pulls a face. “We can’t all be DJs.”
Zayn snorts. “You will not believe the looks I get when I tell people my roommate’s a kindergarten teacher.”
Louis laughs a little. “Yeah, well, telling people I live with the DJ at the Crocodile helps my street cred, so thanks for that,” he says.
Zayn looks at him suspiciously. “Why the fuck do you need street cred? Who on earth are you telling that to? The housewives who drop their bundles of joy off every day?”
“No, christ, I might get fired for that.” Louis stands and pours the rest of his milk into the sink.
Zayn flips off the TV, stands and stretches. “I should probably crash. It’s the first day today, yeah?”
Louis nods and ducks his head into the bathroom to check his hair in the mirror. “September first, how idyllic.”
“Well, good luck. Talk slowly so the babies can understand you. Don’t cry when Liam screws all the hot moms.”
Louis scoffs. “Liam is about as likely to pull any mom as I am. He just looks straighter. Bastard.”
“Yeah, whatever. Slip him my number, would you?” Zayn smacks Louis on the arse as he walks by, heading to his bedroom.
“Not in one million years,” Louis says after him. “He’s too good for you. You’ll corrupt him.”
“Speaking of corruption, shouldn’t you be leaving?”
It’s 7:15. “Shit, yeah, see you, mate.” Louis grabs his bag and keys and heads out to his alarmingly sensible car that will take him to his alarmingly sensible job.
*
Liam sticks his head in Louis’s classroom as he’s setting out nametags on the desks. There’s always a sort of nervous excitement surrounding the first week of school - all the new faces and new school supplies and new personalities and new friends and Louis really loves to watch it all happen; Louis loves to be a part of it.
“Hey, did you check your roster, Lou?” Liam says.
Louis looks over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “No, I haven’t. I’m actually entirely incompetent, are you just now realising this?”
Liam rolls his eyes. “Look at the last names. Particularly the S’s. Then think back to whatever teenybop posters you had on your bedroom wall when you were fifteen.”
Louis goes over to his desks and pulls out the sheet with the list of all his students. He looks down to the S’s. “Hang on,” he says slowly. He glances up at Liam.
Liam’s nodding, with a smirk on his face.
“Styles?” Louis says. “As in...”
Liam’s still nodding. “You’re such a lucky fucking bastard.”
Louis is still staring at him blankly. “Are you telling me I have Harry Styles’ son in my class?”
“Maybe we should extend this competition to the dads as well, yeah?” Liam says.
Louis snorts. “I think that might get us in trouble.”
Liam laughs. “Probably, yeah.”
“Fuck, Li.” Louis is laughing a little at himself. “I had such a massive crush on Harry Styles when I was a teenager. Like, he was it, you know? How cliche is that, right? Realising you’re gay through an X-Factor finalist?”
Smiling fondly, Liam says, “Well, hopefully this won’t ruin all your memories. I’m sure he’s a nice guy. What’s he been doing lately? The pop career kind of fizzled when he turned twenty or so, didn’t it?”
Louis shrugs. “Apparently he’s been up to something. Got a kid out of it and everything.”
“Well, he’s only twenty fiveish, right? Wear tighter pants, man. He was a popstar, I’m sure he swings both ways.”
Louis laughs. “God, you and Zayn are just full of stereotypes this morning.”
“Zayn? What’d Zayn say?” Liam goes a little red.
Louis smirks. “Something about how you look straighter and more manly and handsome than I do. He’s clearly blind, anyway.”
Liam’s full-on blushing now. “He thinks I’m straight?”
Laughing, Louis shakes his head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. Get out, kids are gonna be piling in here in a few minutes.”
“Wait!” Liam protests. “Make sure he knows I’m not straight!”
“Get out, Payne. Go flirt with mums.”
Five minutes after Liam goes to his own classroom, and ten minutes before the first bell is due to ring, there’s a tentative knock on Louis’s door. Louis looks up from the whiteboard where he’s meticulously writing a greeting full of exclamation points, to see two nervous faces peering at him from the doorway - one about three feet off the ground and pale and the other about six feet off the ground and entirely fucking recognisable.
Louis sets down the marker and says, “Hello! Welcome! I’m Mr. Tomlinson!” He squats down to be at the boy’s level. “You must be Jakob,” he says.
The boy smiles shyly and nods before turning his face into his dad’s hip. Louis glances up to see Harry - Harry Styles - smiling down at Jakob ruefully.
“Jake, why don’t you go try to find your seat, hm? I bet it has your name on it.” Harry nudges Jakob a little with his thigh and Jakob hesitantly steps away from his dad’s body and towards the desk, shooting a nervous look at Louis. Louis smiles at him encouragingly. “If you need any help, let me know,” he says.
Straightening up, Louis extends his hand to Harry. “Hi. Louis Tomlinson,” he says, trying so hard not to regress to whatever pathetic teenage behaviour is threatening to come out. He might explode into a burst of rainbow flames, honestly. This is so fucking surreal.
Harry looks at him curiously. “Harry Styles. Can I ask - where are you from?”
Louis glances at the ground and then up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Yorkshire. I probably shouldn’t try to pretend I wasn’t obsessed with you when I was a kid, right?”
Harry blushes a little, but laughs. “I mean, you could. Yorkshire, huh. You’re a long way from home.”
Louis shrugs. “So are you.”
Harry nods and gives Louis another look, before running his hand through his fringe. “So, I’m sorry we’re early. I’ve got a meeting and I wanted to meet you before having to rush off. He’s a good kid, a little shy, but he’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, won’t you, Jake?” he calls over to his son, who is unpacking his folders and pencils into his desk very diligently, lower lip pulled into his mouth. He looks up at Harry’s voice.
“Yeah, Dad. Won’t set anything on fire,” he says monotonously, as if reciting something he’s heard a million times.
Harry laughs kind of proudly and Louis tries not to laugh as well. “Alright, champ, your mum’s going to pick you up, okay? I’ll see you later. I love you. Be good, have fun, don’t cause trouble,” he says.
Harry waves goodbye and blows a kiss to Jakob, before shaking Louis’s hand again and giving him a little smile. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Louis Tomlinson from Yorkshire,” he says with a wink.
Louis valiantly succeeds at not choking on his tongue and gives Harry a slightly manic grin. “Would assume so, Harry Styles from TigerBeat magazine.”
Harry bursts into a loud shout of laughter and promptly looks shocked at himself. He shakes his head at Louis and backs out of the classroom.
It’s not that Louis is pleased, it’s more that he’s completely fucking ecstatic.
*
The day goes as smoothly as any first day ever does. There are a few tears, a few breakdowns, but nothing Louis can’t smooth over with some jokes and gentle reassurance.
At lunch, Louis meets up with Liam in the teachers' lounge.
“So,” Louis says.
Liam looks amused. “So,” he says.
Louis glances around the room to make sure no one else is listening and then slumps his shoulders, giving Liam the beaming grin he’s been keeping in for four hours. “He’s lovely.”
Liam laughs. “Oh my god, you look like you’re twelve.”
“I feel like it, mate! God, he was just, like, gorgeous. Only more grown up and legal and handsome and, god. I think he’s married? But I can still look. Oh my god. He was wearing these skinny jeans and this loose-neck teeshirt and this peacoat and hightops and oh my god, Liam, I’m twelve.” Louis buries his face in his hands.
Liam reaches over and pats his knee. “You’re so cute.”
Sitting up straighter, Louis shakes himself. “I need to, like, get ahold of myself if I’m going to see him every day. He winked at me, did I tell you that? Oh my god.”
“Louis,” Liam laughs. “What are you going to do?”
Louis looks at him blankly. “What do you mean? Nothing! He’s married? He’s a parent? I’m just going to get some sparkly pens to go with my sparkly diary and dot my i’s with hearts. Perfectly sane, normal things for a twenty seven year old man.”
Liam shrugs. “He might not be married. You could test the water!”
“Liam,” Louis says, leveling him a look. “If the tables were turned here, and I was telling you to hit on a parent, what would you say?”
Liam considers this. “Alright. Fair point. So what’s your tally so far?”
Louis smiles down at his sandwich. “Seven. You?”
Liam makes a frustrated noise. “Three. So many dads this morning. With wedding rings.”
“Tough luck, mate.”
“If you were wearing your suspenders, I’m sure you’d have less.” Liam takes a bite of his bagel and gets cream cheese on his chin. Louis smirks.
“Are you saying I’m less sexy in braces? Because I can list plenty of people who would beg to differ.”
Liam smiles. “Never. Just saying it might send a different sort of message.”
“You’re awful.” Louis glances at the clock. “We have to go in a minute. Storytime next! Been practicing my monster voice all summer.”
Liam shakes his head. “You’re going to get so many nightmare complaints.”
*
Zayn’s sprawled out on the couch again when Louis gets home at 4:30. He’s staring rather blankly at the television, which is on the ABC Family channel. Full House is blaring, inexplicably. The living room smells like weed.
“You’re a sad excuse for a man,” Louis says, standing above him.
Zayn’s eyes flicker over to Louis. “How’d it go? You swear in front of the babies? Kill any of them?”
Louis plops down next to Zayn and pulls his legs up underneath him. “It was fine. I have Harry Styles’ son in my class, though.”
Zayn arches an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”
“Harry Styles!” Louis repeats, shocked. “Was he not a big deal over here? Liam knew of him and Liam’s from Vermont!”
“Well, Liam’s weird,” Zayn says kind of fondly. “Who’s this guy, then?”
“He came in second on X-Factor when he was just a kid, right? And he was so adorable and cute and then he became this massive popstar in the UK for awhile, I don’t know. He made me gay.” Louis sighs dramatically.
Zayn lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, so he’s who we’re to thank, then? Not your spectacular genes or whatever?”
Louis smiles over at him. “Well, maybe partially that.”
“So, anyway, what about this guy?”
“His son’s in my class! It’s like. So unbelievable? I met teenage-me’s idol today? And I managed to, like, actually stay in control of myself? I’m shell-shocked, mate.” Louis leans over and puts his head on Zayn’s thigh, wordlessly asking for petting. Zayn obliges.
“Are you, like, okay?” Zayn asks. “Should I be worried about your mental state or anything?”
Louis sighs. “No, no. He’s just gorgeous and perfect and everything I’ve ever wanted. But I’ll live. His probable-wife is some skinny, blonde, hipster thing, I don’t know. Pretty. God, I haven’t been laid in so long, Zayn.”
Zayn chuckles a little, winding his hand through Louis’s fringe. “Are you asking or telling?”
“Depends what the answer is,” Louis says, smiling up at him.
Zayn rolls his eyes and leans down to press a kiss to Louis’s lips. “As if you don’t know.”
Louis reaches up into Zayn’s hair, guiding their mouths together clumsily, before pulling back to say, “Wait. Let’s go to my bedroom. Can’t do this in front of Mary-Kate and Ashley.”
Zayn groans but pushes himself off the couch. “You’re such a teacher, dude.”
*
The next day, Louis puts on slightly tighter trousers, a slightly tighter shirt, and braces. Zayn whistles at him from Louis’s bed as Louis gets dressed.
“Thought you weren’t supposed to go after dads?” Zayn says.
Louis cuts him a sharp look. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zayn snorts. “Uh huh.”
They’re quiet for awhile as Louis does his hair, and then Zayn says softly, “Seriously, Lou, you look good. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Louis glances at him in the mirror, naked but for the sheet over his hips. “I’m not doing anything. I just. I’m not going to do anything, really. I just want to feel good about myself, at least, alright?”
Zayn closes his eyes and shakes his head a little, smiling to himself. “You’re so crazy, babe. Have a good day.”
Louis doesn’t kiss Zayn goodbye, because that’s not something they do, but he gives him a fond look and reminds him to empty the dishwasher. Louis goes to the kitchen and eats a sensible breakfast and gets in his sensible car and goes to his sensible job.
He sticks his head into Liam’s classroom as he arrives, cocking his hip in the doorway. Liam takes one look at him and bursts out laughing.
“I’ll be pulling ahead in the mom tally today, dude, but you might get some experimental dads,” he says.
Louis rolls his eyes. “Still not part of the game.”
“No,” Liam agrees. “Plus, you’re only after one dad.”
“I’m not after anyone!” Louis protests. “I just wanted to look presentable, is that such a crime?”
Liam smirks. “You do have trouble with that.”
Louis gives Liam a quick roll of his eyes and a smile and goes back to his own classroom. His room faces the morning sun and gives the entire space a sort of glow he associates with children's movies about coming of age and, like, boys and their dogs. The hardwood floor shines with the summer break from dirty sneakers and spilled juice and Louis sits behind his desk and smiles. He's got a stack of new picture books and he's going to try to teach kids to read some words today. This is the kind of thing that sticks with him; he loves to play with kids, and he's ace at pretending he's a dinosaur or a lava monster, but the little things - the things he gets to teach kids that build foundations for the rest of their lives, is what keeps him motivated here. Louis doesn't remember who taught him how to tie his shoes, but someone did. Louis doesn't remember who taught him what sound the letter B makes, but someone did, and that someone shaped his entire education, just by teaching him the alphabet. For nine months out of the year, for twenty three kids, Louis gets to be that person. They might not remember him in twenty years, but he's making an impact.
The sound of two little feet dashing into his door, makes Louis look up from the worksheets he's sorting.
"Hi, Mr. Tomlinson!" Jakob Styles says breathlessly, running over to his little desk and sort of cowering behind it.
"Hey, Jake," Louis says, smiling. "Let's remember to walk inside, okay?"
Jakob nods at him, wide-eyed, before his eyes go back to the door immediately.
Suddenly, there are massive roars coming from the hallway - dinosaur roars, if Louis isn't horribly mistaken - and Jakob bursts into nervous giggles, twitching and huddling even further under his desk.
"Don't tell him I'm in here!" he whispers to Louis.
Louis winks at him. "If he eats me first, I'm gonna be upset!"
And then, suddenly, Harry Styles is filling up his doorway, body puffed up with his dinosaur-persona. He looks around the room and, finding it deceptively empty, looks at Louis. Harry immediately drops his arms and flushes bright red.
"Um. Good morning," Harry says, shoving his hands in his pockets and feigning nonchalance. He leans against the doorjam and whistles a little bit.
Louis raises his eyebrows in massive amusement. "Good morning."
"Haven't seen a little terror running around, have you?" Harry's eyes are twinkling and he is clearly trying very hard to resist looking over at the squirming boy hiding under his desk.
Louis shrugs and gives Harry his most innocent look. "I'm all alone, mate. Dunno what to tell you."
Harry quirks an eyebrow and says, "Are you, now," but quickly purses his lips and shouts, "Ah! I've found you!" and dinosaur-stomps over to where Jakob's laughing madly into his hands.
"Don't eat me, Daddy, I'm too skinny! Eat Mr. Tomlinson instead!"
"Oi!" Louis exclaims, before bursting into laughter himself.
Harry grabs Jakob under his arms and swings him into the air before giving him a quick kiss on the head and plopping him back into his chair. "I love you, buddy, I'll see you this afternoon, yeah? Be good."
"Bye, Daddy!" Jakob calls after him.
Harry gives Louis a wink and a nod as he passes by Louis's desk. "Probably would rather eat you, anyway," he says quietly through a grin.
Louis stares after him with his mouth open, any sort of comeback evaporating before formation. Which is maybe for the best, because there's a child present. Christ.
*
As all the kindergarten classes are lining up by the parking lot for pickup, Louis grabs Liam's arm and whispers urgently, "I've got to talk to you."
Liam gives him a look that's half amusement and half exasperation. "Give me a ride home?"
Louis rolls his eyes, sees the manipulation tactic for what it is - Liam lives way across the city - but he nods anyway and starts checking off his kids as their parents pull up in their Lexus hybrids or what the fuck ever.
Jakob's the last one left and he sits quietly next to Louis as they wait in the nearly-deserted parking lot.
Louis nudges Jakob with his elbow. "You liking school so far?" he asks.
Jakob nods. "I like recess. We get candy if we kick a homerun in kickball! Dylan and Thomas always let me kick homeruns because they know I like candy a lot."
Louis laughs. "Anything else you like?"
Tilting his head as if considering this, Jakob nods. "Lunch," he says, firmly.
Louis chuckles ruefully. "A boy after my own heart," he says. "Do you have a favourite sport to play?"
"Baseball!" Jakob yells. "I love baseball. My grandpa always takes me to Mariners games and he bought me my own glove for my fifth birthday this year! It's so cool, it smells like real baseball things and I can fit it on my head like a hat!"
Louis leans down and whispers close to Jakob. "D'you wanna hear a secret?"
Jakob nods furiously.
"I don't understand baseball at all," Louis continues. "Never been able to get it."
Jakob sighs, all five year old frustration. "Neither does my daddy. He only wants to watch soccer. All day! He just sits and watches boring soccer! And he gets all mad about it and won't play video games with me if the red team loses."
Louis bites back a smile. "See, I think your daddy and I would get along."
Jakob looks up, then, and scans the parking lot. "There he is!" He jumps up and takes off running, leaving his backpack on the bench next to Louis. Louis picks it up and walks hesitantly over to where Harry has grabbed his son mid-sprint and is now swinging him around in wide circles.
"Did you have a good day, buddy?" Louis hears Harry ask.
"Yeah! I kicked two homeruns at recess and I got two pieces of candy! I gave one to Laura though," Jakob tells Harry excitedly.
Harry raises his eyebrows and glances up at Louis. "Laura, huh? Did she like it?"
Jakob blushes and shrugs, kicking at the blacktop with his toe. "I dunno. She's pretty."
Harry laughs and musses up Jakob's hair. "Go get in the car, kid. I'm just gonna say hi to Mr. Tomlinson."
Harry walks over to Louis and takes Jakob's backpack from him. "Are you teaching my kid to pick up birds?" he asks, teasingly.
Louis laughs. "Really doubt he'd get that from me, mate," he says. Harry's quiet for a moment and Louis looks up at him, kind of nervously. "I mean," he starts again, but doesn't really know where to go from there.
Harry's smiling, and he shakes his head. "I'm sort of relieved," he says, and okay, Louis doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. "Anyway," Harry goes on, "I'm really sorry I'm late. I got caught up in some work stuff and Kristin's busy today. Hopefully this won't be a regular thing."
Louis waves off the apology. "No worries. Jake and I got to know each other a little bit. Big baseball fan, eh?"
Harry rolls his eyes. "It breaks my heart, really. I do everything I can to get him to appreciate some footie and he'd rather watch old fat guys stand around and only hit a ball a third of the time. On a good day!"
Louis laughs. "My roommate's the same way, only with American football. Did you know the ball's only in play for ten minutes of a three hour game? Who the hell wants to watch that?"
Harry shakes his head. "This country, mate, I'm just not sure. Hey, we should catch a match sometime. Be nice to watch with someone who's over the age of six and not whining the entire time."
"Well, I can guarantee I'm over six, but the whining part really depends on who you want to watch," Louis says.
Harry bites his lip. "Liverpool versus Man United's coming up in two weeks. Regardless of who you support, that'll be a good one."
Louis quirks his eyebrow. "Let's be real, it'll only be good for the United supporters," he says. "But I'm a huge United supporter, so let's do it."
Harry grins at him. "Check the attitude at the door, mate. It's Liverpool's year, I can feel it."
Louis pulls a face. "Take your kid and your awful taste home."
Harry laughs. "Have a good afternoon, Louis. We'll see you tomorrow morning."
Louis waves goodbye to Jakob in the car and turns back to the school. He goes straight to Liam's classroom.
"Li, I've accidentally got a major problem," he groans.
Liam looks up from his papers. "I could have told you that as soon as I saw the name, Lou."
"Wanna come over for drinks with me and Zayn?" Louis says, putting on his most pathetic expression.
Liam looks skeptical. "It's Tuesday."
"But I'm having a crisis!" Louis whines.
"Fine," Liam says. "Zayn will be there?"
Louis shoots Liam a dark look. "I'm not feeling your sympathy, mate."
Liam smiles. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah, just gotta grab my bag. Meet me at the car, I'll be out in a minute."
*
"Zayn!" Louis yells as he unlocks the door to their flat. "Zayn, I've brought you a present!"
"Louis!" Liam hisses from behind him. Louis grins.
"Wha'?" Zayn says, stumbling out of his bedroom, wearing pajama pants and not much else. He freezes as he looks up at Louis and Liam.
Louis can feel the blushes radiating from either side of him.
"Drinks?" he says.
Zayn blinks a bit and focuses on Louis. "It's Tuesday?"
"I may be boring, Zayn, but I'm not dead," Louis says.
Liam jumps in. "Louis is accidentally in love."
Zayn nods slowly. "Oh yes, the popstar. I forgot."
Louis trudges into the kitchen and digs around for some vodka and tonic water. "He wants to watch football together," he says.
Zayn and Liam have matching confused expressions. "Someone willingly wants to watch the Seahawks this season?" Liam asks.
Louis rolls his eyes. "Soccer, whatever, I need better friends."
Liam narrows his eyes. "He asked you to watch soccer with him? Are you going to?"
Louis measures out shots into three glasses and dumps some tonic over them, then turns around and hands them to Liam and Zayn. "Yes? I think so? I mean, that's not necessarily dangerous, right? We could just go to a pub downtown or something."
Zayn takes a pull of his drink and makes a considering noise. "Does he know you're gay?"
"Um." Louis blushes. "I maybe dropped some pretty massive hints."
Zayn laughs. "You're so typical."
Liam shakes his head. "Be careful, Lou."
"He's married! If we could all remember this, that'd help me out a lot."
"Does he wear a wedding ring?" Zayn asks.
"No," Louis says, moving to the living room. Liam and Zayn follow him. "But a lot of couples don't these days? Or they, like, wear them on necklaces or something, I don't know. We're going to assume he's married so I don't lose my fucking mind, yeah?" He sits on the armchair next to the couch and pulls his legs underneath him. Liam hesitantly sits on the couch and Zayn plops down beside him, a little closer than is strictly necessary. Liam looks incredibly tense, Louis notices.
"What if he makes a move anyway?" Zayn says.
Liam's eyebrows raise and he looks at Louis.
Louis stares at both of them. "Can we not do this? I'm not going to sleep with anyone who's married or probably married and he's a parent, okay."
Zayn smiles evilly. "He's not your parent, though, and that's the only thing that would stop the Louis Tomlinson I used to know."
Liam chokes. "Good to know you had boundaries, I guess."
Louis shakes his head and takes a long drink. "I hate you both. Let's talk about all the sexual tension in this room instead, how about?"
Zayn raises an eyebrow and says nothing, but Liam looks down into his glass. "Let's not and said we did," he says.
Louis bites his lip and sends a silent sorry to Zayn, who looks a little hurt, but shakes it off pretty quickly. He reaches for the remote and says, "I think there's a game on."
Louis groans. The Mariners are playing Oakland and he fucking hates baseball.
*
Harry and Jakob arrive early again the next day. Louis glances up from his desk as they walk in and arches an eyebrow. "Should I just start class fifteen minutes early?"
Harry chuckles. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep you on your toes. Make you feel younger, you know."
"You mean by incessantly reminding me of how pathetic I was ten years ago?" Louis says with a smile.
Shrugging, Harry just grins. "So, hey, give me your number. I was serious about the football. Haven't got any mates from the homeland around here."
Louis looks down at his hands, stalling for time. "How did you end up here, anyway? I mean, Seattle of all places? Really?"
Harry glances back to Jakob, who's got out some little action figures and arranging them in a battle formation. "All of Jake's family is around here, and I don't wanna mess with that. I like it. Gets a bit lonely, but I manage. Have to travel for work anyway, and it's nice to be able to come home to a kid and all. What about you, though? You're a mystery."
Louis laughs lightly. "I'm really not. Went to uni in Manchester, got into teaching over there, and an advisor told me about the University of Washington's early childhood program, so I applied and somehow it all worked out. I can't even pretend to understand it, really. But here I am."
Harry nods. "Here you are," he repeats. "So, about that phone number..."
Louis tries to hide his cringe. "I - okay. I'm pretty sure I'm really not supposed to do this, but I do want to see your face when United smash the Scousers this weekend." He pulls out a scrap piece of paper and scribbles down his number, quickly.
Harry takes it from him with a wink. "I won't tell anyone."
Louis shakes his head and gives Harry a small smile. Other kids are starting to show up and the room is steadily getting louder and louder. Harry gives him another wink and backs away from Louis's desk. "I'll text you," he says to Louis, and turns to leave.
*
Zayn’s not at the flat when Louis gets home from school. Louis takes the prime opportunity to turn the television to Fox Soccer Channel and curl up on the couch in front of Sky Sports News. Robin Van Persie’s will-he-won’t-he drama unfolds and Louis leans back and closes his eyes.
Louis has never regretted the decisions he’s made. He loves his job and he loves his friends and he loves Seattle and he loves the States and he’s generally content. There’s not one thing he’d change about his life, really. He’d love his mum and sisters to be closer, but, well. Sacrifices were made, and Louis tries to fly home when he has enough time and money. He’s fine.
It’s just, like.
He’s just lonely, is the thing. And it’s not like he’s alone - he has Zayn. He loves Zayn. He’s loved Zayn since Zayn approached him on red square outside Suzzallo Library, stoned out of his mind, complimenting Louis’s shoes. There had been a playful tilt to Zayn’s head, one Louis recognised whenever he hesitantly complimented another man, and Louis had smiled immediately. They got lunch, they went to the Henry Art Gallery across campus, and they immediately became good friends. Who occasionally fucked.
What’s never made sense to Louis is how it never became a thing between them. It wasn’t unspoken and it wasn’t awkward and it wasn’t serious and there was nothing but overwhelming love between them. No jealousy, no need for the relationship talk, and no need for even a friends-with-benefits talk. They just fit in a way that they never questioned. When they were alone together, they sometimes had a drink, they sometimes got high, they sometimes watched a movie, they sometimes had sex. And up until Louis had gained the stability of his current job, Zayn was the only constant in his life. He relied on Zayn for comfort, and Zayn provided that any way he could, in any way Louis needed.
But they never fell in love. And that surprises Louis, too. He loves Zayn more than anyone, honestly, in such a familial and adoring and unconditional way that it makes him a little uncomfortable - they sometimes joke that they might be brothers, and immediately pull faces and scoot apart, only to bounce right back into each other like rubber bands. But there’s never been an in love feeling, there’s never been anything Louis could point to and say, hey, look, we belong together. He slept with Zayn sometimes, he loved Zayn all of the time, and they were both just biding their time.
Liam was an anomaly to Louis. He was Louis’s welcome wagon on his first day at the Bush School, and when Louis met him, there was an such an intensity about him, such a serious demeanour, that Louis was put off. He thought, well, this guy is going to hate me once he gets to know me. But it didn’t work quite that way - Liam had this shy little smile that started coming out two hours after Louis cracked his first joke, and slowly, slowly, slowly, over the course of two years, expanded to stretch across his face. He laughingly agreed to be dragged along to bars on Fridays for Happy Hour and he laughingly agreed to come to Zayn’s first show at the Crocodile - my roommate’s so nervous, it’s so cute, you have to come, we’ll be his only fans - and then he not-so-laughingly met Zayn and.
Well, that’s about it. He met Zayn and got shy again and Louis worried they’d hate each other and Zayn looked at Liam with wide eyes and talked with a stutter for the rest of the night and smoked an entire pack of Marb Lites and Louis worried, because, like. If Zayn doesn’t like someone, Louis doesn’t need them in his life. And Louis liked Liam. He confronted Zayn about it, after a few weeks, and that turned into Louis grappling Zayn into a headlock until he choked out, “God, I don’t know, he’s so fucking cute,” and that was that. Louis could keep Liam around.
The couch that Louis is slumped into vibrates, suddenly, and Louis’s eyes fly open. He gropes for his pocket, only to find it empty, so he digs his fingers into the cracks between the cushions, coming up with at least enough change for a bus fair, Zayn’s medical marijuana license, a travel pipe, and several condom wrappers.
Louis pulls a face. They seem to be perpetual college students, regardless of their ages.
Eventually his phone turns up. He has a missed text from an unrecognised number. His stomach clenches because his stomach is stupid and presumptive. Louis frowns down at it, then hits ‘accept’ on his phone.
louis from Yorkshire! its harry from tigerbeat. if the mancs get van persie i might cry.
Louis smiles and types out, figured you'd be happy he's leaving the gunners, actually.
Not ten seconds later, Louis's phone is vibrating again, but this time with a phone call.
"Hello?" he says.
"I'd be happier if he fucked off to Germany," Harry says with a grin in his voice.
Louis laughs a little. "Did you hear they're getting Cazorla? Arsene actually made a bloody move for once. Shocked, honestly."
Harry groans. "I don't want to talk about this, I get upset."
"Fair enough." Louis stares at the TV without taking anything in. "Are you so bored on a Wednesday night that you called your son's teacher? The life of a popstar really is not what I've imagined."
Harry huffs out a small laugh. "I'm in my jimjams eating toast at seven in the evening, mate. Glamourous life, like."
"Don't you have a child to take care of, Harry Styles? Am I going to have to worry about the poor boy's home life?" Louis says teasingly.
"He should be tied up outside. Actually I should check on him, the leash sometimes comes undone." Harry's chewing his toast across the connection. Louis makes a face. Harry continues after swallowing, "Nah, though, Kristin took him out for dinner. I've had a long week and whinged till I got some pity."
Louis hums a little in his throat, for lack of anything to say. "I met Kristin the other day. Very lovely." God, that was inane and obvious. Louis hates himself, a little.
"Yeah," Harry says, crunching into another bite of toast. "Yeah, she's great. Got lucky there."
"Yeah," Louis says faintly. He bites his lip. "Hey, look, my flatmate just got home, so I should go, but let me know about the match, yeah? Sounds fun."
"Will do, mate. Have a nice night and all." Harry hangs up first.
Louis sits on the couch in his empty flat and stares at the television.
*
part two.
pairings(s): louis tomlinson/harry styles, liam payne/zayn malik
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
word count: ~16,000
summary: AU. liam and louis teach kindergarten and harry styles has a kid and zayn is a dj and it's all very complicated for various reasons.
notes: a few things: a) this was written despite severe writer's block, so there's a warning right there. b) this has been a long time coming. c) i love you all so much it's crazy. d) huge thanks to the numerous people who have read over the first half of this, seriously.
Louis stumbles out of his bedroom at 6:30 in the morning. He’s wearing khakis and a button-up shirt and a skinny tie and he’s pretty sure he looks fantastic.
Zayn’s inexplicably sprawled on the couch watching early morning cartoons as Louis walks to the kitchen.
“You’re up early,” Louis comments.
Zayn arches his neck back to see Louis. “Haven’t actually gone to bed yet. Come here, let me look at you.”
Louis rolls his eyes and smiles a little, but comes over and stands in front of the television. Zayn’s eyes roam over his body appraisingly. He nods shortly, then some sort of realisation dawns on his face.
“Are you and Liam having another competition about how many moms hit on you?” Zayn says.
Louis gives him an appalled look. “Zayn Malik! That would be entirely inappropriate!”
Zayn’s looking distinctly unimpressed. “Liam’s going to win.”
“What? No, he’s not. Impossible. I am dashing. How could you say that?”
Zayn shrugs. “He’s hotter.”
“Impossible,” Louis says again. “You’re just trying to wound me now.”
“You also give off a distinct vibe, dude,” Zayn says.
Louis brightens. “Yes! I know. A dashing and handsome and rugged and sexy vibe.”
“I was thinking more of a gentleman of the back door kind of vibe.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “You desperately need some sensitivity training,” he says, as he starts again for the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Zayn calls after him. “You know me, always just hating on the gays.”
“It’s despicable and I feel unsafe around you!” Louis pours himself coffee and a bowl of cheerios. When did he become a grown-up? He’s pretty sure he’s not a grown-up. He’s pretty sure he hangs out with five and six year olds all day. He’s pretty sure he’s basically one of them.
Becoming a kindergarten teacher was never a goal of Louis’s. It just kind of happened. Things always just kind of happen. It kind of happened that after three years of an English degree at the University of Manchester, Louis stumbled onto an application to the University of Washington’s early childhood development program, and it just kind of happened that he qualified for some scholarships, and it just kind of happened that his mum approved, and it just kind of happened that he met some California stoner named Zayn, and it just kind of happened that they moved in with each other.
So, now he’s a kindergarten teacher at this intensely upper-class, intensely private elementary-middle school in Seattle and he’s wearing khakis daily and going to bed at a reasonable time and only drinking on weekends. He wakes up at 6 o’clock in the morning and he has cheerios for breakfast and he keeps up to date on current events and he shaves regularly. He drives a Toyota Corolla and he has more than twenty dollars in his checking account and it’s all very strange and foreign. He has no idea how he ended up here. The last five years were kind of a blur and when he thinks of all his mates back in Doncaster, working in the factories and the distribution centres, he cringes. Louis gets paid to hang out with five and six year olds all day. He kind of loves it.
“Zayn?” Louis says, loud enough to be heard over the television.
Zayn jerks a little, grunts. “What.”
“Am I boring?” he asks, swirling his spoon in his cheerios. They aren’t even honey-nut cheerios. Just boring, extra-fibre, low cholesterol cheerios.
“The boringest,” Zayn says. “The absolute most boring of all the borings. You might as well kill yourself. You used to be fun.”
“I’m still fun!” Louis protests.
Zayn turns on the couch around to stare at Louis, sitting at the counter. “You didn’t come out last Friday because you wanted to finish your book, dude.”
Louis pulls a face. “We can’t all be DJs.”
Zayn snorts. “You will not believe the looks I get when I tell people my roommate’s a kindergarten teacher.”
Louis laughs a little. “Yeah, well, telling people I live with the DJ at the Crocodile helps my street cred, so thanks for that,” he says.
Zayn looks at him suspiciously. “Why the fuck do you need street cred? Who on earth are you telling that to? The housewives who drop their bundles of joy off every day?”
“No, christ, I might get fired for that.” Louis stands and pours the rest of his milk into the sink.
Zayn flips off the TV, stands and stretches. “I should probably crash. It’s the first day today, yeah?”
Louis nods and ducks his head into the bathroom to check his hair in the mirror. “September first, how idyllic.”
“Well, good luck. Talk slowly so the babies can understand you. Don’t cry when Liam screws all the hot moms.”
Louis scoffs. “Liam is about as likely to pull any mom as I am. He just looks straighter. Bastard.”
“Yeah, whatever. Slip him my number, would you?” Zayn smacks Louis on the arse as he walks by, heading to his bedroom.
“Not in one million years,” Louis says after him. “He’s too good for you. You’ll corrupt him.”
“Speaking of corruption, shouldn’t you be leaving?”
It’s 7:15. “Shit, yeah, see you, mate.” Louis grabs his bag and keys and heads out to his alarmingly sensible car that will take him to his alarmingly sensible job.
*
Liam sticks his head in Louis’s classroom as he’s setting out nametags on the desks. There’s always a sort of nervous excitement surrounding the first week of school - all the new faces and new school supplies and new personalities and new friends and Louis really loves to watch it all happen; Louis loves to be a part of it.
“Hey, did you check your roster, Lou?” Liam says.
Louis looks over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “No, I haven’t. I’m actually entirely incompetent, are you just now realising this?”
Liam rolls his eyes. “Look at the last names. Particularly the S’s. Then think back to whatever teenybop posters you had on your bedroom wall when you were fifteen.”
Louis goes over to his desks and pulls out the sheet with the list of all his students. He looks down to the S’s. “Hang on,” he says slowly. He glances up at Liam.
Liam’s nodding, with a smirk on his face.
“Styles?” Louis says. “As in...”
Liam’s still nodding. “You’re such a lucky fucking bastard.”
Louis is still staring at him blankly. “Are you telling me I have Harry Styles’ son in my class?”
“Maybe we should extend this competition to the dads as well, yeah?” Liam says.
Louis snorts. “I think that might get us in trouble.”
Liam laughs. “Probably, yeah.”
“Fuck, Li.” Louis is laughing a little at himself. “I had such a massive crush on Harry Styles when I was a teenager. Like, he was it, you know? How cliche is that, right? Realising you’re gay through an X-Factor finalist?”
Smiling fondly, Liam says, “Well, hopefully this won’t ruin all your memories. I’m sure he’s a nice guy. What’s he been doing lately? The pop career kind of fizzled when he turned twenty or so, didn’t it?”
Louis shrugs. “Apparently he’s been up to something. Got a kid out of it and everything.”
“Well, he’s only twenty fiveish, right? Wear tighter pants, man. He was a popstar, I’m sure he swings both ways.”
Louis laughs. “God, you and Zayn are just full of stereotypes this morning.”
“Zayn? What’d Zayn say?” Liam goes a little red.
Louis smirks. “Something about how you look straighter and more manly and handsome than I do. He’s clearly blind, anyway.”
Liam’s full-on blushing now. “He thinks I’m straight?”
Laughing, Louis shakes his head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. Get out, kids are gonna be piling in here in a few minutes.”
“Wait!” Liam protests. “Make sure he knows I’m not straight!”
“Get out, Payne. Go flirt with mums.”
Five minutes after Liam goes to his own classroom, and ten minutes before the first bell is due to ring, there’s a tentative knock on Louis’s door. Louis looks up from the whiteboard where he’s meticulously writing a greeting full of exclamation points, to see two nervous faces peering at him from the doorway - one about three feet off the ground and pale and the other about six feet off the ground and entirely fucking recognisable.
Louis sets down the marker and says, “Hello! Welcome! I’m Mr. Tomlinson!” He squats down to be at the boy’s level. “You must be Jakob,” he says.
The boy smiles shyly and nods before turning his face into his dad’s hip. Louis glances up to see Harry - Harry Styles - smiling down at Jakob ruefully.
“Jake, why don’t you go try to find your seat, hm? I bet it has your name on it.” Harry nudges Jakob a little with his thigh and Jakob hesitantly steps away from his dad’s body and towards the desk, shooting a nervous look at Louis. Louis smiles at him encouragingly. “If you need any help, let me know,” he says.
Straightening up, Louis extends his hand to Harry. “Hi. Louis Tomlinson,” he says, trying so hard not to regress to whatever pathetic teenage behaviour is threatening to come out. He might explode into a burst of rainbow flames, honestly. This is so fucking surreal.
Harry looks at him curiously. “Harry Styles. Can I ask - where are you from?”
Louis glances at the ground and then up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Yorkshire. I probably shouldn’t try to pretend I wasn’t obsessed with you when I was a kid, right?”
Harry blushes a little, but laughs. “I mean, you could. Yorkshire, huh. You’re a long way from home.”
Louis shrugs. “So are you.”
Harry nods and gives Louis another look, before running his hand through his fringe. “So, I’m sorry we’re early. I’ve got a meeting and I wanted to meet you before having to rush off. He’s a good kid, a little shy, but he’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, won’t you, Jake?” he calls over to his son, who is unpacking his folders and pencils into his desk very diligently, lower lip pulled into his mouth. He looks up at Harry’s voice.
“Yeah, Dad. Won’t set anything on fire,” he says monotonously, as if reciting something he’s heard a million times.
Harry laughs kind of proudly and Louis tries not to laugh as well. “Alright, champ, your mum’s going to pick you up, okay? I’ll see you later. I love you. Be good, have fun, don’t cause trouble,” he says.
Harry waves goodbye and blows a kiss to Jakob, before shaking Louis’s hand again and giving him a little smile. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Louis Tomlinson from Yorkshire,” he says with a wink.
Louis valiantly succeeds at not choking on his tongue and gives Harry a slightly manic grin. “Would assume so, Harry Styles from TigerBeat magazine.”
Harry bursts into a loud shout of laughter and promptly looks shocked at himself. He shakes his head at Louis and backs out of the classroom.
It’s not that Louis is pleased, it’s more that he’s completely fucking ecstatic.
*
The day goes as smoothly as any first day ever does. There are a few tears, a few breakdowns, but nothing Louis can’t smooth over with some jokes and gentle reassurance.
At lunch, Louis meets up with Liam in the teachers' lounge.
“So,” Louis says.
Liam looks amused. “So,” he says.
Louis glances around the room to make sure no one else is listening and then slumps his shoulders, giving Liam the beaming grin he’s been keeping in for four hours. “He’s lovely.”
Liam laughs. “Oh my god, you look like you’re twelve.”
“I feel like it, mate! God, he was just, like, gorgeous. Only more grown up and legal and handsome and, god. I think he’s married? But I can still look. Oh my god. He was wearing these skinny jeans and this loose-neck teeshirt and this peacoat and hightops and oh my god, Liam, I’m twelve.” Louis buries his face in his hands.
Liam reaches over and pats his knee. “You’re so cute.”
Sitting up straighter, Louis shakes himself. “I need to, like, get ahold of myself if I’m going to see him every day. He winked at me, did I tell you that? Oh my god.”
“Louis,” Liam laughs. “What are you going to do?”
Louis looks at him blankly. “What do you mean? Nothing! He’s married? He’s a parent? I’m just going to get some sparkly pens to go with my sparkly diary and dot my i’s with hearts. Perfectly sane, normal things for a twenty seven year old man.”
Liam shrugs. “He might not be married. You could test the water!”
“Liam,” Louis says, leveling him a look. “If the tables were turned here, and I was telling you to hit on a parent, what would you say?”
Liam considers this. “Alright. Fair point. So what’s your tally so far?”
Louis smiles down at his sandwich. “Seven. You?”
Liam makes a frustrated noise. “Three. So many dads this morning. With wedding rings.”
“Tough luck, mate.”
“If you were wearing your suspenders, I’m sure you’d have less.” Liam takes a bite of his bagel and gets cream cheese on his chin. Louis smirks.
“Are you saying I’m less sexy in braces? Because I can list plenty of people who would beg to differ.”
Liam smiles. “Never. Just saying it might send a different sort of message.”
“You’re awful.” Louis glances at the clock. “We have to go in a minute. Storytime next! Been practicing my monster voice all summer.”
Liam shakes his head. “You’re going to get so many nightmare complaints.”
*
Zayn’s sprawled out on the couch again when Louis gets home at 4:30. He’s staring rather blankly at the television, which is on the ABC Family channel. Full House is blaring, inexplicably. The living room smells like weed.
“You’re a sad excuse for a man,” Louis says, standing above him.
Zayn’s eyes flicker over to Louis. “How’d it go? You swear in front of the babies? Kill any of them?”
Louis plops down next to Zayn and pulls his legs up underneath him. “It was fine. I have Harry Styles’ son in my class, though.”
Zayn arches an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”
“Harry Styles!” Louis repeats, shocked. “Was he not a big deal over here? Liam knew of him and Liam’s from Vermont!”
“Well, Liam’s weird,” Zayn says kind of fondly. “Who’s this guy, then?”
“He came in second on X-Factor when he was just a kid, right? And he was so adorable and cute and then he became this massive popstar in the UK for awhile, I don’t know. He made me gay.” Louis sighs dramatically.
Zayn lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, so he’s who we’re to thank, then? Not your spectacular genes or whatever?”
Louis smiles over at him. “Well, maybe partially that.”
“So, anyway, what about this guy?”
“His son’s in my class! It’s like. So unbelievable? I met teenage-me’s idol today? And I managed to, like, actually stay in control of myself? I’m shell-shocked, mate.” Louis leans over and puts his head on Zayn’s thigh, wordlessly asking for petting. Zayn obliges.
“Are you, like, okay?” Zayn asks. “Should I be worried about your mental state or anything?”
Louis sighs. “No, no. He’s just gorgeous and perfect and everything I’ve ever wanted. But I’ll live. His probable-wife is some skinny, blonde, hipster thing, I don’t know. Pretty. God, I haven’t been laid in so long, Zayn.”
Zayn chuckles a little, winding his hand through Louis’s fringe. “Are you asking or telling?”
“Depends what the answer is,” Louis says, smiling up at him.
Zayn rolls his eyes and leans down to press a kiss to Louis’s lips. “As if you don’t know.”
Louis reaches up into Zayn’s hair, guiding their mouths together clumsily, before pulling back to say, “Wait. Let’s go to my bedroom. Can’t do this in front of Mary-Kate and Ashley.”
Zayn groans but pushes himself off the couch. “You’re such a teacher, dude.”
*
The next day, Louis puts on slightly tighter trousers, a slightly tighter shirt, and braces. Zayn whistles at him from Louis’s bed as Louis gets dressed.
“Thought you weren’t supposed to go after dads?” Zayn says.
Louis cuts him a sharp look. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zayn snorts. “Uh huh.”
They’re quiet for awhile as Louis does his hair, and then Zayn says softly, “Seriously, Lou, you look good. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Louis glances at him in the mirror, naked but for the sheet over his hips. “I’m not doing anything. I just. I’m not going to do anything, really. I just want to feel good about myself, at least, alright?”
Zayn closes his eyes and shakes his head a little, smiling to himself. “You’re so crazy, babe. Have a good day.”
Louis doesn’t kiss Zayn goodbye, because that’s not something they do, but he gives him a fond look and reminds him to empty the dishwasher. Louis goes to the kitchen and eats a sensible breakfast and gets in his sensible car and goes to his sensible job.
He sticks his head into Liam’s classroom as he arrives, cocking his hip in the doorway. Liam takes one look at him and bursts out laughing.
“I’ll be pulling ahead in the mom tally today, dude, but you might get some experimental dads,” he says.
Louis rolls his eyes. “Still not part of the game.”
“No,” Liam agrees. “Plus, you’re only after one dad.”
“I’m not after anyone!” Louis protests. “I just wanted to look presentable, is that such a crime?”
Liam smirks. “You do have trouble with that.”
Louis gives Liam a quick roll of his eyes and a smile and goes back to his own classroom. His room faces the morning sun and gives the entire space a sort of glow he associates with children's movies about coming of age and, like, boys and their dogs. The hardwood floor shines with the summer break from dirty sneakers and spilled juice and Louis sits behind his desk and smiles. He's got a stack of new picture books and he's going to try to teach kids to read some words today. This is the kind of thing that sticks with him; he loves to play with kids, and he's ace at pretending he's a dinosaur or a lava monster, but the little things - the things he gets to teach kids that build foundations for the rest of their lives, is what keeps him motivated here. Louis doesn't remember who taught him how to tie his shoes, but someone did. Louis doesn't remember who taught him what sound the letter B makes, but someone did, and that someone shaped his entire education, just by teaching him the alphabet. For nine months out of the year, for twenty three kids, Louis gets to be that person. They might not remember him in twenty years, but he's making an impact.
The sound of two little feet dashing into his door, makes Louis look up from the worksheets he's sorting.
"Hi, Mr. Tomlinson!" Jakob Styles says breathlessly, running over to his little desk and sort of cowering behind it.
"Hey, Jake," Louis says, smiling. "Let's remember to walk inside, okay?"
Jakob nods at him, wide-eyed, before his eyes go back to the door immediately.
Suddenly, there are massive roars coming from the hallway - dinosaur roars, if Louis isn't horribly mistaken - and Jakob bursts into nervous giggles, twitching and huddling even further under his desk.
"Don't tell him I'm in here!" he whispers to Louis.
Louis winks at him. "If he eats me first, I'm gonna be upset!"
And then, suddenly, Harry Styles is filling up his doorway, body puffed up with his dinosaur-persona. He looks around the room and, finding it deceptively empty, looks at Louis. Harry immediately drops his arms and flushes bright red.
"Um. Good morning," Harry says, shoving his hands in his pockets and feigning nonchalance. He leans against the doorjam and whistles a little bit.
Louis raises his eyebrows in massive amusement. "Good morning."
"Haven't seen a little terror running around, have you?" Harry's eyes are twinkling and he is clearly trying very hard to resist looking over at the squirming boy hiding under his desk.
Louis shrugs and gives Harry his most innocent look. "I'm all alone, mate. Dunno what to tell you."
Harry quirks an eyebrow and says, "Are you, now," but quickly purses his lips and shouts, "Ah! I've found you!" and dinosaur-stomps over to where Jakob's laughing madly into his hands.
"Don't eat me, Daddy, I'm too skinny! Eat Mr. Tomlinson instead!"
"Oi!" Louis exclaims, before bursting into laughter himself.
Harry grabs Jakob under his arms and swings him into the air before giving him a quick kiss on the head and plopping him back into his chair. "I love you, buddy, I'll see you this afternoon, yeah? Be good."
"Bye, Daddy!" Jakob calls after him.
Harry gives Louis a wink and a nod as he passes by Louis's desk. "Probably would rather eat you, anyway," he says quietly through a grin.
Louis stares after him with his mouth open, any sort of comeback evaporating before formation. Which is maybe for the best, because there's a child present. Christ.
*
As all the kindergarten classes are lining up by the parking lot for pickup, Louis grabs Liam's arm and whispers urgently, "I've got to talk to you."
Liam gives him a look that's half amusement and half exasperation. "Give me a ride home?"
Louis rolls his eyes, sees the manipulation tactic for what it is - Liam lives way across the city - but he nods anyway and starts checking off his kids as their parents pull up in their Lexus hybrids or what the fuck ever.
Jakob's the last one left and he sits quietly next to Louis as they wait in the nearly-deserted parking lot.
Louis nudges Jakob with his elbow. "You liking school so far?" he asks.
Jakob nods. "I like recess. We get candy if we kick a homerun in kickball! Dylan and Thomas always let me kick homeruns because they know I like candy a lot."
Louis laughs. "Anything else you like?"
Tilting his head as if considering this, Jakob nods. "Lunch," he says, firmly.
Louis chuckles ruefully. "A boy after my own heart," he says. "Do you have a favourite sport to play?"
"Baseball!" Jakob yells. "I love baseball. My grandpa always takes me to Mariners games and he bought me my own glove for my fifth birthday this year! It's so cool, it smells like real baseball things and I can fit it on my head like a hat!"
Louis leans down and whispers close to Jakob. "D'you wanna hear a secret?"
Jakob nods furiously.
"I don't understand baseball at all," Louis continues. "Never been able to get it."
Jakob sighs, all five year old frustration. "Neither does my daddy. He only wants to watch soccer. All day! He just sits and watches boring soccer! And he gets all mad about it and won't play video games with me if the red team loses."
Louis bites back a smile. "See, I think your daddy and I would get along."
Jakob looks up, then, and scans the parking lot. "There he is!" He jumps up and takes off running, leaving his backpack on the bench next to Louis. Louis picks it up and walks hesitantly over to where Harry has grabbed his son mid-sprint and is now swinging him around in wide circles.
"Did you have a good day, buddy?" Louis hears Harry ask.
"Yeah! I kicked two homeruns at recess and I got two pieces of candy! I gave one to Laura though," Jakob tells Harry excitedly.
Harry raises his eyebrows and glances up at Louis. "Laura, huh? Did she like it?"
Jakob blushes and shrugs, kicking at the blacktop with his toe. "I dunno. She's pretty."
Harry laughs and musses up Jakob's hair. "Go get in the car, kid. I'm just gonna say hi to Mr. Tomlinson."
Harry walks over to Louis and takes Jakob's backpack from him. "Are you teaching my kid to pick up birds?" he asks, teasingly.
Louis laughs. "Really doubt he'd get that from me, mate," he says. Harry's quiet for a moment and Louis looks up at him, kind of nervously. "I mean," he starts again, but doesn't really know where to go from there.
Harry's smiling, and he shakes his head. "I'm sort of relieved," he says, and okay, Louis doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. "Anyway," Harry goes on, "I'm really sorry I'm late. I got caught up in some work stuff and Kristin's busy today. Hopefully this won't be a regular thing."
Louis waves off the apology. "No worries. Jake and I got to know each other a little bit. Big baseball fan, eh?"
Harry rolls his eyes. "It breaks my heart, really. I do everything I can to get him to appreciate some footie and he'd rather watch old fat guys stand around and only hit a ball a third of the time. On a good day!"
Louis laughs. "My roommate's the same way, only with American football. Did you know the ball's only in play for ten minutes of a three hour game? Who the hell wants to watch that?"
Harry shakes his head. "This country, mate, I'm just not sure. Hey, we should catch a match sometime. Be nice to watch with someone who's over the age of six and not whining the entire time."
"Well, I can guarantee I'm over six, but the whining part really depends on who you want to watch," Louis says.
Harry bites his lip. "Liverpool versus Man United's coming up in two weeks. Regardless of who you support, that'll be a good one."
Louis quirks his eyebrow. "Let's be real, it'll only be good for the United supporters," he says. "But I'm a huge United supporter, so let's do it."
Harry grins at him. "Check the attitude at the door, mate. It's Liverpool's year, I can feel it."
Louis pulls a face. "Take your kid and your awful taste home."
Harry laughs. "Have a good afternoon, Louis. We'll see you tomorrow morning."
Louis waves goodbye to Jakob in the car and turns back to the school. He goes straight to Liam's classroom.
"Li, I've accidentally got a major problem," he groans.
Liam looks up from his papers. "I could have told you that as soon as I saw the name, Lou."
"Wanna come over for drinks with me and Zayn?" Louis says, putting on his most pathetic expression.
Liam looks skeptical. "It's Tuesday."
"But I'm having a crisis!" Louis whines.
"Fine," Liam says. "Zayn will be there?"
Louis shoots Liam a dark look. "I'm not feeling your sympathy, mate."
Liam smiles. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah, just gotta grab my bag. Meet me at the car, I'll be out in a minute."
*
"Zayn!" Louis yells as he unlocks the door to their flat. "Zayn, I've brought you a present!"
"Louis!" Liam hisses from behind him. Louis grins.
"Wha'?" Zayn says, stumbling out of his bedroom, wearing pajama pants and not much else. He freezes as he looks up at Louis and Liam.
Louis can feel the blushes radiating from either side of him.
"Drinks?" he says.
Zayn blinks a bit and focuses on Louis. "It's Tuesday?"
"I may be boring, Zayn, but I'm not dead," Louis says.
Liam jumps in. "Louis is accidentally in love."
Zayn nods slowly. "Oh yes, the popstar. I forgot."
Louis trudges into the kitchen and digs around for some vodka and tonic water. "He wants to watch football together," he says.
Zayn and Liam have matching confused expressions. "Someone willingly wants to watch the Seahawks this season?" Liam asks.
Louis rolls his eyes. "Soccer, whatever, I need better friends."
Liam narrows his eyes. "He asked you to watch soccer with him? Are you going to?"
Louis measures out shots into three glasses and dumps some tonic over them, then turns around and hands them to Liam and Zayn. "Yes? I think so? I mean, that's not necessarily dangerous, right? We could just go to a pub downtown or something."
Zayn takes a pull of his drink and makes a considering noise. "Does he know you're gay?"
"Um." Louis blushes. "I maybe dropped some pretty massive hints."
Zayn laughs. "You're so typical."
Liam shakes his head. "Be careful, Lou."
"He's married! If we could all remember this, that'd help me out a lot."
"Does he wear a wedding ring?" Zayn asks.
"No," Louis says, moving to the living room. Liam and Zayn follow him. "But a lot of couples don't these days? Or they, like, wear them on necklaces or something, I don't know. We're going to assume he's married so I don't lose my fucking mind, yeah?" He sits on the armchair next to the couch and pulls his legs underneath him. Liam hesitantly sits on the couch and Zayn plops down beside him, a little closer than is strictly necessary. Liam looks incredibly tense, Louis notices.
"What if he makes a move anyway?" Zayn says.
Liam's eyebrows raise and he looks at Louis.
Louis stares at both of them. "Can we not do this? I'm not going to sleep with anyone who's married or probably married and he's a parent, okay."
Zayn smiles evilly. "He's not your parent, though, and that's the only thing that would stop the Louis Tomlinson I used to know."
Liam chokes. "Good to know you had boundaries, I guess."
Louis shakes his head and takes a long drink. "I hate you both. Let's talk about all the sexual tension in this room instead, how about?"
Zayn raises an eyebrow and says nothing, but Liam looks down into his glass. "Let's not and said we did," he says.
Louis bites his lip and sends a silent sorry to Zayn, who looks a little hurt, but shakes it off pretty quickly. He reaches for the remote and says, "I think there's a game on."
Louis groans. The Mariners are playing Oakland and he fucking hates baseball.
*
Harry and Jakob arrive early again the next day. Louis glances up from his desk as they walk in and arches an eyebrow. "Should I just start class fifteen minutes early?"
Harry chuckles. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep you on your toes. Make you feel younger, you know."
"You mean by incessantly reminding me of how pathetic I was ten years ago?" Louis says with a smile.
Shrugging, Harry just grins. "So, hey, give me your number. I was serious about the football. Haven't got any mates from the homeland around here."
Louis looks down at his hands, stalling for time. "How did you end up here, anyway? I mean, Seattle of all places? Really?"
Harry glances back to Jakob, who's got out some little action figures and arranging them in a battle formation. "All of Jake's family is around here, and I don't wanna mess with that. I like it. Gets a bit lonely, but I manage. Have to travel for work anyway, and it's nice to be able to come home to a kid and all. What about you, though? You're a mystery."
Louis laughs lightly. "I'm really not. Went to uni in Manchester, got into teaching over there, and an advisor told me about the University of Washington's early childhood program, so I applied and somehow it all worked out. I can't even pretend to understand it, really. But here I am."
Harry nods. "Here you are," he repeats. "So, about that phone number..."
Louis tries to hide his cringe. "I - okay. I'm pretty sure I'm really not supposed to do this, but I do want to see your face when United smash the Scousers this weekend." He pulls out a scrap piece of paper and scribbles down his number, quickly.
Harry takes it from him with a wink. "I won't tell anyone."
Louis shakes his head and gives Harry a small smile. Other kids are starting to show up and the room is steadily getting louder and louder. Harry gives him another wink and backs away from Louis's desk. "I'll text you," he says to Louis, and turns to leave.
*
Zayn’s not at the flat when Louis gets home from school. Louis takes the prime opportunity to turn the television to Fox Soccer Channel and curl up on the couch in front of Sky Sports News. Robin Van Persie’s will-he-won’t-he drama unfolds and Louis leans back and closes his eyes.
Louis has never regretted the decisions he’s made. He loves his job and he loves his friends and he loves Seattle and he loves the States and he’s generally content. There’s not one thing he’d change about his life, really. He’d love his mum and sisters to be closer, but, well. Sacrifices were made, and Louis tries to fly home when he has enough time and money. He’s fine.
It’s just, like.
He’s just lonely, is the thing. And it’s not like he’s alone - he has Zayn. He loves Zayn. He’s loved Zayn since Zayn approached him on red square outside Suzzallo Library, stoned out of his mind, complimenting Louis’s shoes. There had been a playful tilt to Zayn’s head, one Louis recognised whenever he hesitantly complimented another man, and Louis had smiled immediately. They got lunch, they went to the Henry Art Gallery across campus, and they immediately became good friends. Who occasionally fucked.
What’s never made sense to Louis is how it never became a thing between them. It wasn’t unspoken and it wasn’t awkward and it wasn’t serious and there was nothing but overwhelming love between them. No jealousy, no need for the relationship talk, and no need for even a friends-with-benefits talk. They just fit in a way that they never questioned. When they were alone together, they sometimes had a drink, they sometimes got high, they sometimes watched a movie, they sometimes had sex. And up until Louis had gained the stability of his current job, Zayn was the only constant in his life. He relied on Zayn for comfort, and Zayn provided that any way he could, in any way Louis needed.
But they never fell in love. And that surprises Louis, too. He loves Zayn more than anyone, honestly, in such a familial and adoring and unconditional way that it makes him a little uncomfortable - they sometimes joke that they might be brothers, and immediately pull faces and scoot apart, only to bounce right back into each other like rubber bands. But there’s never been an in love feeling, there’s never been anything Louis could point to and say, hey, look, we belong together. He slept with Zayn sometimes, he loved Zayn all of the time, and they were both just biding their time.
Liam was an anomaly to Louis. He was Louis’s welcome wagon on his first day at the Bush School, and when Louis met him, there was an such an intensity about him, such a serious demeanour, that Louis was put off. He thought, well, this guy is going to hate me once he gets to know me. But it didn’t work quite that way - Liam had this shy little smile that started coming out two hours after Louis cracked his first joke, and slowly, slowly, slowly, over the course of two years, expanded to stretch across his face. He laughingly agreed to be dragged along to bars on Fridays for Happy Hour and he laughingly agreed to come to Zayn’s first show at the Crocodile - my roommate’s so nervous, it’s so cute, you have to come, we’ll be his only fans - and then he not-so-laughingly met Zayn and.
Well, that’s about it. He met Zayn and got shy again and Louis worried they’d hate each other and Zayn looked at Liam with wide eyes and talked with a stutter for the rest of the night and smoked an entire pack of Marb Lites and Louis worried, because, like. If Zayn doesn’t like someone, Louis doesn’t need them in his life. And Louis liked Liam. He confronted Zayn about it, after a few weeks, and that turned into Louis grappling Zayn into a headlock until he choked out, “God, I don’t know, he’s so fucking cute,” and that was that. Louis could keep Liam around.
The couch that Louis is slumped into vibrates, suddenly, and Louis’s eyes fly open. He gropes for his pocket, only to find it empty, so he digs his fingers into the cracks between the cushions, coming up with at least enough change for a bus fair, Zayn’s medical marijuana license, a travel pipe, and several condom wrappers.
Louis pulls a face. They seem to be perpetual college students, regardless of their ages.
Eventually his phone turns up. He has a missed text from an unrecognised number. His stomach clenches because his stomach is stupid and presumptive. Louis frowns down at it, then hits ‘accept’ on his phone.
louis from Yorkshire! its harry from tigerbeat. if the mancs get van persie i might cry.
Louis smiles and types out, figured you'd be happy he's leaving the gunners, actually.
Not ten seconds later, Louis's phone is vibrating again, but this time with a phone call.
"Hello?" he says.
"I'd be happier if he fucked off to Germany," Harry says with a grin in his voice.
Louis laughs a little. "Did you hear they're getting Cazorla? Arsene actually made a bloody move for once. Shocked, honestly."
Harry groans. "I don't want to talk about this, I get upset."
"Fair enough." Louis stares at the TV without taking anything in. "Are you so bored on a Wednesday night that you called your son's teacher? The life of a popstar really is not what I've imagined."
Harry huffs out a small laugh. "I'm in my jimjams eating toast at seven in the evening, mate. Glamourous life, like."
"Don't you have a child to take care of, Harry Styles? Am I going to have to worry about the poor boy's home life?" Louis says teasingly.
"He should be tied up outside. Actually I should check on him, the leash sometimes comes undone." Harry's chewing his toast across the connection. Louis makes a face. Harry continues after swallowing, "Nah, though, Kristin took him out for dinner. I've had a long week and whinged till I got some pity."
Louis hums a little in his throat, for lack of anything to say. "I met Kristin the other day. Very lovely." God, that was inane and obvious. Louis hates himself, a little.
"Yeah," Harry says, crunching into another bite of toast. "Yeah, she's great. Got lucky there."
"Yeah," Louis says faintly. He bites his lip. "Hey, look, my flatmate just got home, so I should go, but let me know about the match, yeah? Sounds fun."
"Will do, mate. Have a nice night and all." Harry hangs up first.
Louis sits on the couch in his empty flat and stares at the television.
*
part two.