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Summary
When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles. Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.
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"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."
Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.
But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.
Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.
Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.
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It doesn't explain why he's lying on the floor, with Harry Styles, of all people, planking on top of him.
As in, seventeenth most influential person in London, pop-star-turned-rock-star Harry Styles. The same Harry Styles who has had countless model girlfriends, left, right and centre. Also the same Harry Styles who has been the subject of Louis' wet dreams since he was about eighteen.
(Or: Louis is a Radio 1 DJ and Harry is a pop-star he interviews.)
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Their management informs them that they have an interview right before the ARIAs, and it isn't until he's in a suit, seated on a couch between Liam and Zayn, that he gets the idea.
The interviewer, Angus, smiles at them, right before the cameras roll on, and a metaphorical light bulb goes off inside Louis' head. He's perfect. Well, not as perfect as Harry, but enough. He's attractive, attractive enough to drive Harry crazy, and he doesn't even think of the consequences of his actions, just decides right then. It's all Harry's fault anyway. Louis should be allowed to have a little fun.
(or: Louis flirts with the Australian interviewers and Harry gets possessive.)
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He hadn't meant to scent Harry. They were best friends and that was it. Scenting best friends wasn't exactly socially acceptable.
"Lou," Harry whispered.
Louis jumped at his name and sat up straighter to provide a bit of distance between himself and Harry.
"You can't scent me, Lou," Harry stated.
Which of course Louis couldn't scent him. They were best friends.
"I mean," Harry continued. "I wouldn't mind exactly, but if I can't scent you, I don't think you should scent me."
"What do you mean you can't scent me? I mean, I get it because we're best friends but..."
"I mean I can't smell you, Louis. I fucking can't smell you. I can't smell anything, okay?"
Or the one where Harry’s an alpha with no sense of smell, Louis’ an omega who isn’t allowed to scent his best friend, and that’s all they’ll ever be. Obviously.