Work Text:
"Do you have any plans tonight?"
Harry looks up through the small window into the kitchen, giving Zayn a noncommittal shrug. It's an hour 'til close and after working a double shift, Harry's ready to go back to his single room flat, soak in a warm bath, and curl up in his bed. His boss already agreed to give him tomorrow morning off as compensation for taking Perrie's extra shift and Harry's been overly excited thinking about it all day.
Pushing the door open, Harry sits up on the counter next to Zayn as he finishes up one of the orders. "I'm thinking... a bubble bath with chamomile, and maybe a glass of wine."
Zayn snorts, looks up with a raised eyebrow. "I think my mum's having a similar night."
"Oi!" Harry swipes Zayn's dishrag off his shoulder and swats his arm with it. "I'm one hour away from working a 14 hour shift, thank you very much."
"Yeah, yeah," Zayn says good-naturedly. "Perrie says thanks again, by the way. She owes you one."
It doesn't happen very often at the restaurant, someone needing time off, so whenever one of them needs to switch shifts, Harry likes to make himself available. It's funny, thinking about it now, that people actually prefer to come to him, because apart from Zayn, he's one of their oldest employees. It feels like just yesterday he was moving to London and Zayn was setting him up with an interview with Greg. After that, things just sort of fell into place.
Greg was able to offer Harry his first two paychecks in advance to help get him setup with a flat nearby and ever since then, Harry's been working 45 hour work weeks just to live comfortably. Which he does, surprisingly. He's never needed much in the way of lucrative items, but he has a home to go to every night and food on his table and he's happy.
Or, as happy as he could be.
Sometimes, he misses having the stability of the family and friends that he had back home in Cheshire, but since moving, he's made his own somewhat dysfunctional family here. He has Greg, who although maintains some level of authority as his boss, is always down to go out for a few drinks after work with him.
And then there's Zayn, and by extension Perrie, without whom, Harry would have flopped on his own within the first week. They've been there through everything, really, and when Harry's heater broke two weeks in, Zayn was there the next morning with a tool box and a printed off manual. Granted, neither of them knew the first thing about fixing a heater, but when six hours had passed, and that first spark of heat clicked on, Harry could admit he's never been happier in his entire life.
But while having friends and an amazing boss is a luxury, Harry can't help the feeling that settles deep in his stomach whenever he comes home to an empty flat, or on the nights when he cooks too much food for just one person, and it's just—it's hard.
He's tried casual dating, mostly thanks to Perrie's incessant, "I worry about you being alone all the time," so Harry had agreed, ruefully, and some of the guys had been nice—bought him dinner and actually pretended to be interested in what he was saying, but it never worked out in the long run. He just never felt that spark with any of them and he knows it's his own fault for being a hopeless romantic, but the way he sees it, everything happens for a reason. When it's his time, he'll find someone, and until then, he has no problem waiting.
Just as Harry's about to ask Zayn to make him something to go, the little bell on the front door jingles open, followed by a group of men coming into the restaurant.
Sighing, he looks over at Zayn. "Looks like we won't be closing early," he says, and Zayn offers him a sympathetic look.
"I know, bebs. If you want, I can cover them, and you can scoot out the back? I'll punch out for you."
And god, if Zayn wasn't already in a relationship, Harry would totally marry him right now. But, "It's fine," he declines with a smile. "Looks like a big group." He glances back out the window at the front of the restaurant. There's only five or six people, but they're all wearing expensive suits and if anything, that means he might be getting a good tip.
Throwing his head back, Zayn lets out a deep laugh. "Show 'em a bit of dimple, love. No one can resist."
"You got it, boss."
Slipping through the door again, Harry pads his way back up to the front. There's only two other tables being occupied right now, but they're both close to finishing, so Harry doesn't have much else to do. He wipes his hands on his apron and grabs a couple of menus.
"Welcome to Dimitri's, table for six?"
One of the men turns around, offers him a smile, and Harry's heart jumps a beat. "Actually, these two aren't staying," the man says, gesturing off to the side where two of the girls are giving their farewells before exiting the restaurant. "So just a table for four, please."
"Follow me, then," Harry says, breaking eye contact. He takes them to a table near the back, a booth by the wall, which allows Harry the perfect view from the kitchen in case they need anything.
One by one, they slowly slip into the booth, and Harry notes that the boy is still smiling at him, waiting his turn to sit down. Harry quickly hands out the menus, making sure to give the boy his menu last.
"I'm Harry, by the way," he introduces. He should probably be directing that statement to the entire table, but everyone else seems to be preoccupied with looking at the menu already, so he's fine with just talking to the boy with the carmel fringe and bright blue eyes. "I'll be your waiter this evening. Can I start you off with something to drink?"
The boy flushes slightly, probably overwhelmed with the amount of attention on him right now. "What do you have on tap?"
Harry lists off their selection of beers and nearly jumps when the boy claps his hands together excitedly. "I'll have a Zombie Killer, please," he orders, and Harry can't help the grin that takes over his face.
"Big fan of the local stuff, then?"
The boys nods, biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling too big. "Little bit, yeah. Zombie Killer is one of my favourites, but nobody ever has it."
"Usually we don't either, but the supplier gives us a good deal to keep it on tap, so..."
"Well on behalf of all Zombie Killer fans, thank you." The boy sits back in his seat with a content, crinkled smile, before adding, "This might just be my new favourite restaurant," and yeah, he's definitely flirting now.
"Well, we would love to have you back," Harry replies smoothly, and really. That's just good business—being polite and all. No need to classify it as flirting back.
"I'll just have a glass of your house merlot," someone else at the table orders, and right. There are other people still here.
Writing down the other orders, Harry gives one last glance at the boy, before scurrying off to the back to fill their drinks. Zayn's leaning up against one of the refrigerators, typing out a text, when he walks in.
"Alright?" He asks.
"Yeah, good. Only four people, so it should be easy." Harry grabs one of the frosted glasses out of the freezer and takes extra time filling the glass to the very rim. "One of the guys is really fit, though. Look out through the window, but don't make it obvious."
Zayn snorts. "Obvious, right." He sticks his head out, eyes roaming across the small table. "Blue eyes?"
Harry looks up from his tray. "Yeah, how did you know?" He knows Zayn and him are really good friends, but shit. Almost all the guys at the table are attractive and the fact that Zayn was able to pinpoint the exact one he was interested in is sort of creepy.
"That's Louis," Zayn supplies, and Harry's jaw goes slack.
"You know who he is?" Zayn steps back from the window with a non-fussed look on his face.
"Course, I do. Surprised you don't actually. They work across the street at Horan's Law Firm." He gestures for Harry to come over to him and he points out each of the guys. "The one with the buzz cut is Liam, next to him is the owner, Niall, Louis is the bloke across from him, and Tom is the one in the corner." Harry takes a minute to look each of them over. Personally, they don't really look like lawyers, but that does explain the fancy suits. "You've probably never seen them because you don't usually work the night shifts, but they come over a lot after work. Have a few drinks before going home."
Harry takes a minute, nodding slowly, then realizes he's been looking at Louis for far too long now and should probably get out there with their drinks. Grabbing his tray and ignoring Zayn's, "Make sure to ask if he wants the profiteroles," Harry shakes his head and steps back through the door.
"Alright, here we go," he says, placing a few coasters around the table. He makes the mistake of looking up at Louis when he sets his drink down and when he finds Louis already looking back at him, his hand startles, causing beer to slip over the sides. Luckily, nobody seems to mind the puddle of beer now forming under the glass. "Are you guys ready to order?"
A chorus of yes's go up around the table, and Harry jots down each of their orders before turning to Louis. "Know what you want yet?"
Louis looks up, slightly jostled and maybe a little bit surprised that the rest of his group ordered so quickly. He brushes his fringe out of his face before glancing at the menu again. Thinking on his feet, Harry leans in close, running his hand out in front of the other boys body to point at a specific dish on the menu.
"We're known for our pasta sauce here, and it goes great with the chicken parm, you know, if you're looking for a suggestion."
Louis looks at him with a relieved smile, closing his menu. "That sounds great," he says. "Could I get extra cheese on that, too, please?"
"Course," Harry smiles, and grabs their menus from the table. "I'll be back with a bread bowl for the table."
The last part of the night goes by much too quickly for Harry's liking, but after bringing out their bread bowl, he didn't have much reason to bother their table again until their food was ready. While Zayn was cooking, Harry mostly spent his time cleaning up the last two tables that left and restocking the salt and pepper shakers. It was a boring and tedious job that he would have usually left for one of the morning staff to do, but this at least kept him out on the floor, and closer to the table in case Louis, or any of them, needed anything, he reasons.
Once the last shaker is filled, he closes up the bags and turns to head back into the kitchen. It's only as he's passing the table, the three remaining occupants talking amongst themselves, that he notices Louis' absence. Assuming he must've gone off to the bathroom, Harry stops at the table and asks if they need anything else while they're waiting.
"Another merlot, please," the boy, Liam, orders. "And I think Tommo'll want another killer, too—"
"Yes, please," Louis says from behind Harry. Harry turns slowly, watching as Louis slides behind him, much closer than necessary, he thinks, but he's not complaining. His thoughts are confirmed when Louis accidentally stumbles over his footing, falling slightly into Harry's side. Harry responds immediately, placing a warm hand on Louis' back to steady him.
"You sure you want another one?" Harry jokes, and Louis laughs, cheeks already flushed from the alcohol.
"Yes, waiter Harry," he says flatly, but he's smiling nonetheless.
"I'll get right on that, then," Harry tells him, slipping his notepad into his apron and stepping away. When he comes back to the table, Zayn's helping him carry their food this time, and Louis positively beams when Harry sets his food in front of him. He slips away after making sure everything looks alright and follows Zayn into the back to help clean up. There's only twenty minutes left until close and Harry doesn't expect anyone else to come in tonight, so they turn off the grille and start packing up.
While mindlessly washing the last of the dishes, a bubbly laugh sounds from out in the dining area, sending a shiver down Harry's spine and a smile to his face. He instantly knows who the laugh belongs to; all bright and cheery, and he sort of wishes he was able to hear that sound all the time.
Standing there, he wonders if it's odd to be thinking about these sort of things when the person he's thinking about is sitting just a few feet away from him. It also doesn't help that he's only known Louis for less than an hour and he's already planning on what they're going to do on their second date. Which, come to think of it, would probably require a first date. Unless this counts as their first day and in that case, Harry is doing a terrible job at wooing him.
Right, then.
"Did you guys need anything else?" Harry asks, picking up a few of the empty plates cluttering the table. Everyone shakes their heads, mumbling something around their mouthfuls of food, and then he notices Louis looking a bit hesitant. "Is the chicken parm not good?"
"No! No, it's really good. Just, um—could I bother you for a bit more cheese? Sorry, I know you're busy," he finishes, flustered, and Harry mentally slaps himself for forgetting.
With a reassuring hand, Harry quickly apologizes and skips back into the kitchen to grab a little bowl of cheese. Bringing it back out, he sets it down on the table and apologizes again.
"It's really not a problem," Louis assures, dumping the small bowl onto his plate. He sort of resembles a small child eating his first bowl of spaghetti, one with far too much cheese on top, and Harry can't help the small, fond smile from settling on his face as he watches Louis scoop up a big spoonful of pasta. "D'isis really 'oood," he says, and Harry snorts.
"Sorry?"
Louis blushes, and holds up a finger for a moment while he finishes his food. As he swallows, Harry notices a bit of pasta sauce on Louis' cheek and has to mentally keep himself from leaning in and brushing it off.
"This is really good," Louis corrects himself, and Harry smiles again. "I can't believe I've never tried it before. We come here all the time."
"Guess it's just because you've never had me as a waiter before," Harry points out with a cheeky wink. He's surprised how natural this whole flirting thing is coming to him, but he knows it has something to do with how genuinely comfortable he feels around Louis.
Nodding slowly, Louis gets ready for another spoonful and Harry decides he should probably leave him to finish his meal. Just as he's leaving to turn around, he hears Louis mumble out, "'It's a shame, really," and Harry smiles so wide that he can't even blame Zayn for making fun of him.
Minutes later when he's cashing out at the till, Harry pauses on Louis' bill, suddenly getting an idea. He's heard about some of the other waiters doing it in the past, adding personal notes at the bottom, but Harry's never needed to use that option before. Until now, that is.
It takes him a few minutes, a lot of back and forth debating, before he finally decides on what he wants to write. Sure it's a bit of an overkill, but he really likes Louis and since he's not brave enough to just openly give him his number or ask him out, he'll have to work with what he's got.
Typing it out, he hits print on the machine before picking up the other three receipts. He keeps Louis' on top so that he doesn't confuse it with the others and gives it a final once over:
2 Zombie Killer(s) $0.00
1 Chicken Parm $0.00
+ extra cheese
1 Pretty eyes $0.00
1 Cute smile $0.00
Sub Total: $0.00
Taking a deep breath, he turns to head out of the kitchen, stepping back when he nearly runs into Zayn standing behind him.
"You're not charging him?"
Harry blushes instantly, snapping close the small receipt book. "Well, I'm not not charging him. We did screw up his order after all," Harry defends weakly, knowing that forgetting to add extra cheese wasn't really screwing up.
But still.
Rolling his eyes as he leaves, Zayn calls out over his shoulder, "Yeah, can't believe I forgot to add pretty eyes to his chicken parm," and Harry laughs with him, hoping it doesn't come out as nervous as he's feeling.
Not wanting to put it off any longer, Harry heads towards the table and drops off their bills with a, "Have a good night," barely chancing a single look in Louis' direction before rushing back into the kitchen. It's not that he's shy, but he's never been this overly forward with someone before, and now that he's done it, he's already regretting his decision. It's not until he hears Zayn cashing them out, and the familiar jingle of the door opening and closing, that he finally allows himself to breathe.
It sort of hits him then—that Louis' gone now. He's not really sure what he was expecting to happen, if he was hoping Louis would jump on a table and confess his undying love for him, because Harry didn't really give him much of an option. Hell, he didn't even give Louis a chance to say anything before running off into the back like a coward.
But some part of him, a much larger part than he was willing to admit, sort of wishes he wasn't scared all the time. He liked Louis and from how the night played out, it seemed like Louis liked him, too. Hoping that maybe the night wasn't a complete loss and that maybe, maybe, Louis left his number on the merchant copy, Harry slips back out onto the floor.
"Zayn, lock the door would you?" He says absentmindedly into the open room, his gaze focused on Louis' empty table.
"Trying to keep me here all night?" A voice responds back with a slight chuckle, and oh, oh. That's not Zayn.
"Louis, what are you still doing here?"
Louis' standing by the front door, hands clasped adorably behind his back. "I think there may have been a mistake on my bill," he says.
"Oh?"
Louis nods slowly, letting his lips curl up into a smile. “You see, I may not know much about the restaurant business, but I'm pretty sure when you order something, you're supposed to be charged for it."
Harry’s lip twitches at that. “Hm, is that how it goes? Huh. Guess you'll just have to come back, so I can try again next time."
"I'd like that," Louis says. They stand in silence for a minute, Harry momentarily wondering where Zayn disappeared to, until he sees Louis moving slowly around the chairs and tables between them. "Besides, I don't think I was quite finished with my meal yet," he adds a moment later, when they're just inches apart, and Harry's first instinct is to enter waiter mode.
"Oh, was there something else you wanted?" He manages and his heart is beating a million miles per second, but then Louis chuckles, a slight breath ghosting over Harry's mouth.
"Just this," he says, closing the distance and pressing his lips against Harry's. It's a short kiss; Louis' lips are warm and cherry-sweet against his own, and when Louis finally pulls back, Harry can't bring himself to open up his eyes just yet.
Then, "I might have to charge you for that," Harry says slowly, and Louis laughs again.
"Oh, yeah? How much?"
Harry's lip curls up as he says, "Just another one of these," and leans back in.
(and if it sort of becomes routine after that, Louis showing up after work and paying his bill with kisses, well. Harry won't tell Greg that)