Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hello, lovelies,” Veronica says to the camera with a smile and a wave. Her bracelets clink together with the movement, and she tugs her shirt up before putting her hands in her lap. She’s wearing the strapless black shirt today that Harry likes, the one that she usually wears under her leather jacket when they go out. It makes her look like a badass.

She always rolls her eyes when Harry tells her that, though.

Harry reaches a hand out to touch gently at a stray curl where it’s escaped her loose bun, tucking it behind her ear and sneaking in a quick touch to the soft skin of her neck before he pulls his hand away.

Veronica turns away from the camera to look at him, her grin turning soft at the corners. Harry feels giddy for a moment from the simple expression. Ronnie always has that effect on him, though; she makes him feel like he’s doing something wonderful to win her attention. She’s usually a constant whirl of energy as she can be on the phone with her mum and sisters, writing an article for a freelance gig and cleaning the apartment all at once. When she stops for even a second to give Harry her undivided attention, it’s like a beautiful miracle.

“Harry’s here with me,” she says, still facing him for a long moment before turning forward again, “and we’ve got a fun video for you today. We’ve seen this around online and our friends Niall and Liam challenged us so…”

“We had to do it,” Harry finishes for her, turning to face the camera as well. “We don’t back down from challenges.”

Veronica laughs her agreement. Harry straightens the neck of his white t-shirt, always nervous the first few minutes of recording. He always thinks he’s going to ruin Veronica’s channel by being a guest on her shows but he’s managed to hold his own so far.

And today he’s got a little surprise of his own.

“So, today we’re going to do the ‘how well do we know each other’ challenge,” Veronica continues, reaching down next to her to grab a bottle of spray whipped cream. She shows it to the camera while Harry leans down for his own, knocking it over and laughing when he needs to get up and chase after it. “What have you done, now?” Veronica asks.

Harry grins when he’s back on his perch, showing the two cans he’s grabbed. “Knocked them down,” he says. “We’ve so many down here, you guys literally wouldn’t believe it.”

“We’ve got a lot of questions!” Veronica protests. “I wanted to make sure there was enough!”

“Are you planning on using a full can each time? Seems like a waste, to me. Could use them for something else.”

Veronica’s facing forward but Harry can see her eye roll on the screen.

“Wait. Are you planning to use the full one?” he asks, not proud of the way his voice squeaks.

“You’ll see.”

“No no. Come on. We need to set some rules.”

“Always on about rules,” she snarks, glancing over at him. “What rules do we need? Wrong answer equals plate to the face.”

“Can I get it in your hair?” Harry asks.

“Absolutely not!”

“Then we need rules.”

She pauses for a second and Harry can see the gears turning as she thinks it over. “Fine,” she concedes. “We need a couple of rules.”

“Rule one: avoid the hair.”

“Rule two: no questions about thoughts.”

“What?”

She grins. “You can’t be, like, ‘oh what am I thinking about?’ because that’s not fair.”

Harry pouts. “Half of my questions were like that!”

“And half of the answers are probably about me being naked.”

Harry hesitates, glancing between the camera and her a couple of times before he mutters, “Not half.” He straightens in his seat. “Regular questions don’t include thoughts but the bonus round ones can. Fair?”

“Fair.”

“Rule three: you can’t use the full can every time.”

“That’s just not fair. I should be able to-“

“What?” he cuts her off. “You trying to drown me?”

Veronica glares. “Maybe.”

“This video is taking a different turn.” Harry directs his words to the camera, hamming it up.

“I’m gonna edit out that part, makes it pre-meditated.”

Harry grins and looks over to her. “Give me a kiss and tell me you love me,” he coaxes, leaning forward. “You don’t want to drown me.”

“I sure do,” she says but she leans over to him anyway, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Love you.”

“I love you.”

“Are there any more rules?” she asks.

“Loser has to clean up.”

“That’s fair,” she agrees. “You’re better at cleanup anyway.”

“I’m not going to lose,” he says. “I’m offended.”

“How many challenges have we done? We’ve been together three years and I don’t think you’ve won any.”

“I’m going to win this time,” Harry says. “I’ve got the kill question saved for last.”

“’The kill question’ are you serious?” Veronica laughs.

Harry, very maturely, sticks his tongue out at her and doesn’t respond.

“Okay, let’s start,” she says. “Five questions each worth one point and then a two question lightning round worth three points each.”

“Should we have the plates ready?”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Well, some people fill the plates after the answer if it’s wrong and some have it ready so they can just,” he raises his hand to mimic smashing a pie in her face.

“Oooo, the second one,” she says, grabbing a plate from between them and starting to fill it up already.

“Not the whole can, Ronnie,” Harry protests, trying to grab it from her.

“There’s some left,” she says, shaking the can but letting him close his fingers around it and tug it away.

“You’re impossible.”

She shrugs and doesn’t deny it, throwing a glance to the camera that Harry knows is full of sass. She sits back up, straightening her shoulders and raising the plate of whipped cream so it’s in the frame of the shot. “First question,” she starts. “Who was my first kiss?”

Harry groans.

“Don’t you know this?” she asks him, smirking. “You gonna get a face full of cream, instead?”

“I know it,” he protests. “I just don’t wanna talk about you and your ex’s.”

“Hardly an ex,” she argues.

“Sophie Kirk and you were ten years old and you mum caught you and grounded you for an hour.”

Veronica frowns. “Dammit, that’s right.”

Harry grins. “Told you: I know you, babe.” She laughs and sticks her tongue out. She makes as if she’s going to hand him the plate but he balks. “What’re you doing?”

“You’re not going to use this?”

“No, there’s so much whipped cream there. I love you, I wouldn’t do that.” Veronica glares at him again, but her mouth is still tilted up in a permanent smile. “Plus, it’d get in your hair. Might want to fix it.”

“Whoops,” she says, reaching behind her head and pulling her ponytail out.

It’s been about two months since she’s stopped wearing wigs for the most part, her hair hanging down to her shoulders. Harry knows it won’t last long, is shocked that she hasn’t given into the urge to buzz it all off yet, but he likes the look. He likes the way her hair gets curly at the ends, how her thick, dark locks are soft against her neck and the bare skin of her shoulders in her black top.

“You’re staring,” she says as she gathers her hair up in her hands and pulls it back again, tighter this time.

“You’re pretty and I like your hair today.”

“Thanks, babe. I think you’re pretty and I like your hair today, too.”

Harry smiles, pleased, and touches his own bun in reflex. It’s just barely long enough to fit, a couple of pieces escaping and curling against the back of his neck, but he ignores them.

“It’s your turn to ask a question,” Veronica prompts.

“Oh, right. What was my first pet’s name?”

“Hamster,” she answers quickly and smiles brightly, her hands on her knees. Spoke a little too fast. “I’m right, right?” she asks when Harry doesn’t say anything.

Harry pouts, hesitating for about three seconds before he quickly lifts the plate and smashes the cream into her face.

Veronica shouts and tries to jerk away but her face is already covered in the light cream, her mouth open in shock. “I was right!” she argues once the majority of the cream is slipping off of her face. “You named your hamster Hamster.”

“Yes, but my first pet was a dog named Max.”

“That’s- oh my god,” she says, wiping the cream from her eyes with a laugh. “That’s bullshit.”

“It was a wrong answer,” he shrugs, smiling at the camera.

“Ugh, I need a towel.”

“I’ll grab you one, babe,” Harry offers, standing quickly. He knocks a spare can over on its side but ignores it as he heads out of Veronica’s studio room to grab a towel from the hall closet. He hesitates. “Better grab a few,” he mutters to himself.

“It’s your turn,” he says when he comes back into the room, handing a towel off to her and smiling when she wipes her face off and glares at him.

“It got up my nose.”

“Get me back with your next question,” Harry challenges.

Veronica picks up her same plate from before, spraying another circle of cream where the middle has fallen in a bit. “In the video my mum showed you of me singing when I was little, what was I wearing?”

“A green dressing gown.”

“I- how did you remember that?”

Harry grins wide and doesn’t answer. He knew he was going to win this time. “My turn. What’s the first gift I ever gave you?”

“Flowers on our first date.”

“Flowers don’t count because they die,” Harry counters. “Ten seconds to guess again.”

“Ten seconds? That’s ridiculous!” Harry starts counting. “Ugh, the first gift you gave me was…” she glances around the room, her hand going to her clavicle where the charm on her necklace hits. “This,” she says, holding it up. “My gold necklace?”

“Nope!” Harry laughs, lifting the plate and pressing it to Veronica’s face again before she can move away.

“Harry!” This is fun. Harry hands her the clean side of the towel she’d previously used, watching her press it to her face before wiping the cream away. “What was it?”

“The music box on your nightstand.”

“That wasn’t first!”

“Yes, it was,” Harry protests. “Our second date, we went down to the boardwalk and there was a little shop there. With the scarves and the wind chimes? And you were browsing around and saw the music box in the corner.”

“But you didn’t give it to me that day.”

“No, but I went back and bought it and gave it to you our next date. The necklace was a couple dates later.”

“Dammit again,” she says, though the delight on her face is evident even under the whipped topping. “I do love my music box.”

“I’m still trying to figure out a way to make it play Pink Floyd,” Harry admits.

“I’m gonna get you on this next one,” she warns, picking up her plate again.

“Doubt it.”

“Cocky jerk. Okay, then. Third question: what’s my favorite colour?”

“Trick question,” Harry says. “You wear black the most and that’s how you usually answer but your favorite colour is actually purple. You also paint with it the most. And you go through a purple eyeshadow faster than any other colour.”

“This is-“

Harry fist pumps. “Yes!”

“No! This is crap.”

“I’m right, though.”

She groans. “Yes, you’re right.”

Harry stands and does a happy dance. It makes him look like Chandler Bing but he doesn’t care.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Your turn.”

Harry grins as he sits and fills his plate again, adding a bit more than before. He’s gotten into the whole thing and is really enjoying the win. He sets the can down with a gentle thud. “What did I want to be when I grew up?”

“When you were little, you wanted to be a farmer but when you were in school, you were going to study law.”

“Got it right,” Harry says, setting down his plate and pretending he isn’t a little bummed.

“The tide is turning!” She says, mocking his fist pump before picking up her plate and straightening her shoulders. “Okay, the score is your three to my one. Game’s not over yet. Fourth question: what’s my favorite Disney movie?”

“Bambi.”

The plate to the face is one hundred percent unexpected.

“You watch Bambi all the time!” he says, wiping a screen of whipped topping from his forehead.

“You watch it because you say I remind you of Bambi. My favorite is Aladdin.”

”I would like to file a protest.”

“Protest reviewed and denied.”

“Why Aladdin?” Harry asks before smiling. “Is it because you can crush on both Aladdin and Jasmine at the same time?”

“They’re cartoons, Harry!”

Harry shrugs. “Doesn’t mean they’re not cute.”

“You’re a freak and now you’re a freak on my channel.”

Harry shrugs again and smiles, glancing between her and the camera. “S’alright with me.”

“Score is still your three to my one. Your turn to ask, next.”

“Okay, question four. Four,” he repeats, drawing out the word. “Such a weird number. Anyway. Question four: how many piercings do I have?”

Veronica frowns, looking away from the camera to rake her eyes over him. “How many places you have pierced or how many piercings you currently wear?”

“How many places could I put a piercing through right now- not any holes that have closed.”

“I- I just think you have one,” she says. “Your left ear.”

Harry waits.

“Do you have more? Where?”

Keeps waiting.

“One is my final answer, you’re not going to trick me into changing it.”

It’s almost satisfying to shove the plate of whipped cream into her face.

“What the hell? Where are the others?”

Harry laughs, thumbing at his right ear and then over his right nipple.

“You fucking liar!” she laughs, tugging his shirt up. “You do not have a pierced nipple.”

“Another pie to the face if I do.”

“No, stop it. My skin is going to hate me after today.”

Harry shows her, holding his shirt up with one hand and pointing out the thin barbell with the other, unnecessarily as she shouts again when she sees it. “Louis did it.”

“What the fuck?” she says, pushing his shirt further up and leaning in.

“It’s not like you to curse on camera,” Harry notes.

“It’s not like you to get a nipple piercing,” Veronica counters. “How did I not know this?”

“It happened last week. We did it the night you and Liam went to Orlando for your convention. Niall brought over the beer and Louis had the bright idea to do this.”

Harry looks up to gauge her reaction. He had thought she’d be laughing but her voice has a bit of an edge to it. It’s hard to judge perfectly, as her face is still streaked with traces of whipped topping the towels missed, but he sees a bit of a frown in the corners of her mouth. “Are you angry with me, V?”

She looks up to meet his eye. “I’m not angry,” she says with a smile of reassurance. “I just can’t believe I didn’t know.”

“Well, you’ve only been home a day,” Harry reasons. “And it isn’t healed, yet, so I haven’t wanted to show it off.”

“Did it hurt?”

“A little.”

Quick light lightening, she reaches out to twist his left nipple, grinning in satisfaction when he grunts and pushes her hand away. “Ronnie, ow!”

“Don’t let Louis pierce anything else,” she warns.

“God, I won’t now for sure.” He rubs at the tender skin, letting his shirt fall back down. “You’re gonna edit this all out, yeah?”

“Of course I am,” she says. “Most of it,” she amends.

“Babe, c’mon.”

“I said most of it,” she defends. “I’ll let you watch the final cut before I upload it. Promise.”

Harry rubs his skin gently as he nods. “I don’t even remember what number we’re on.”

“Fifth question, my turn.” Her answer is prompt and her pout gone.

“Gimme a kiss first,” Harry demands with a pout. “That hurt and I’ve forgotten if you love me or not.”

She rolls her eyes and leans in, wiping a stray bit of cream from his face before letting their lips meet. Harry pulls away enough to say, “You’re really going to edit this out?”

“Yeah?” she answers with a quirk of her brow.

“Good.” He pulls her closer until she’s sliding off of her stool perch and into his lap.

“Harry, we’re going to fall,” she protests, though she doesn’t fight his hold.

He laughs as he kisses her again. “Not going to drop you, V. Just want to kiss you for a bit.”

“You’re weird today,” Veronica notes when she pulls away, her hands scratching through his hair. “Very touchy.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks, running a hand along the line of skin exposed between the back of her jeans and her black top. “Just wanna touch you always.”

“You’re trying to cheat and distract me from the video but you can just forget about that because I’m making my comeback,” she says as she slips down from his lap and shifts onto her own seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Harry grins, had known how affected she was by his mouth and his touch when she’d been in his lap, but that isn’t what today was meant to be about so he lets her take a minute for them both to calm down before she turns back to face the camera. “Fifth question, my turn,” she repeats and Harry knows she’ll make a nice cut in the video right there to take it all out.

He wonders how much of their makeout was caught on camera and if he can convince Ronnie to keep it for him.

She grabs a plate- a new one as the old one is soggy from the leftover cream soaking into it- and upends almost an entire can in a swirl around it. “It’s not the full can,” she says, preemptively cutting off his protest. “What’s the movie I watch when I need a good cry?”

Harry frowns. “I don’t like this question; it’s sad.”

“I’m not sad right now,” she says.

“You cry at a lot of films. We both do.”

“You’ve come home when I’ve been watching this one before.”

“Pursuit of Happyness?” Harry asks. “No, wait!” he takes it back quickly. “The Fox and the Hound!”

“Which one is your answer?”

“Shit, I don’t know. You cry at both.”

“You gotta pick one, babe.”

“The Painted Veil.”

“You can’t just name every film I’ve cried over,” Veronica laughs, raising her hand. “Make your final decision.”

“Fox and the Hound,” Harry says, closing his eyes and bracing for impact but then he hears the sound of the plate being set down.

“Very good; your turn.”

He opens his eyes and looks at her. “That’s right?”

“Easiest way to have a good cry,” she says. “Nothing sadder than that film. Ask your next question, babe.”

“No, you’ve bummed me out, now. Gimme another kiss.”

“Get lost,” Veronica says, pushing him away when he leans in. “Come on, babe. Focus.”

“My own partner won’t even kiss me.”

She doesn’t fall for it, smiling and crossing her legs primly. “Last question, H. What’s it going to be? Is this your ‘kill question’ you promised?”

“That’s coming up in the bonus round,” Harry promises. He shifts on his stool, consciously stopping himself from patting his trouser pocket. “My fifth question is… what’s my favourite line from any movie ever?”

Veronica glares at him. “You just want to hear me say it.”

Harry laughs. “Yes, I do.”

With a deep sigh, she hangs her head and mutters, “Keep the change you filthy animal.”

Harry laughs harder, throwing his head back and slipping off the edge of the stool. He barely avoids falling flat on his bottom but it’s worth it to hear the deep, hearty laugh Veronica lets out. When Harry rights himself and looks over to her, again, he can see how she’s clenching her stomach and nearly crying already.

“You get a point!” he says through his giggles. “What’s that make the score now?”

“Four for you and two for me,” she says after a quick second.

“Lightning round is three points each?” he asks, waiting for her to nod in confirmation. “Anyone’s game, then.”

“First bonus question: what was the thing that made me fall in love with you?”

“My-“

“If you say something vulgar I’m keeping it in the video and your mum watches this,” Veronica spits out at him with a grin.

“I wasn’t going to,” Harry says. “I swear, V. Mum,” he says, turning back to the camera, “I wasn’t.”

“I know that grin, Harry Styles. Don’t try to play innocent.”

Harry rolls his eyes and laughs. “You first told me you loved me in Cancún on our second night when it rained so hard we couldn’t go outside and ended up eating leftover bagels from the breakfast spread and curling up in our blankets on the balcony watching the rain hit the water.” Veronica smiles and goes to raise her hand and smash the plate in Harry’s face but he grabs her wrist gently and holds her away. “Hold on,” he says, laughing. “I wasn’t finished. That was the first time you told me that you loved me. The thing that made you fall in love with me was my smile. You called your mum the morning after we met and told her you thought you’d met the love of your life. And it was all because of the way I smiled at you.”

Veronica is smiling, the plate sat on the table between them. Harry turns his torso away from the camera, only focused on her.

“Am I right?” he asks, though he knows he is.

“I’m going to have to cut this all out,” she says, her voice soft. “This is too sappy even for the internet.”

“It was your question.”

“Stupid question.”

Harry grabs one of her hands, linking their fingers. “My question?” he asks, waiting for her to nod. “How many kids do I want?”

“You didn’t get a plate ready,” Veronica protests, trying to pull her hand away to get one ready.

“Are you saying you don’t know the answer?” Harry teases.

“No, I’m not saying that. You want two or three kids- two years apart each- and you want to foster teenagers who are being overlooked by the system. You want to give children a home.”

“Exactly right. And I know you want that, too.” He grins, wide enough to dimple, and grabs for her other hand. “I have a feeling I’m going to get this next one right, too. Leave the whipped cream out of it.”

“That’s not the point of this game,” she protests weakly but lets Harry take her free hand. “I can’t deal with you today.”

“Ask me a question, lovely.”

She licks her lips, a nervous tick he doesn’t normally see on her. “I suddenly can’t remember what I had next,” she laughs. “Um, oh, right. What was my biggest fear when I was younger? But you don’t have to answer that, now.”

“Shh,” Harry says. “I’ll answer it.”

“We’re just getting really soppy. I’m going to cry while editing this.”

“You can change it, if you like.”

She thinks about it a moment before shaking her head. “No, it’s the one I picked. Go ahead.”

“You didn’t think you’d find someone that you could love who would also love you- all of you in all of your ways.” Harry’s voice is gentle and he doesn’t fight it when she ducks her head to break eye contact. “You thought you would have to go through life explaining yourself.”

Veronica smiles, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I think I know what’s happening,” she says.

“I’ve got one last question,” Harry says, grinning and feeling damp around the eyes as well.

“Your ‘kill question’.”

“Yep. I’ve been wanting to ask you this question for some time now.” He lets her hand slip from his for a moment, fishing a ring out of his trouser pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around everywhere. Had to get rid of the box because it bulged out too obviously.”

Veronica laughs, using her free hand to wipe at her face where tears are streaking down her cheeks and mixing with the whipped cream. It’s hilarious, if he’s honest, and he’s so glad they’ve got this on camera.

“What’s funny?” he asks, not sure what she’s reacting the most to.

“I saw the empty box the night before I went to Orlando,” she admits. “I got excited but then I opened it-”

“You peeked!” Harry accuses.

“-and saw it was empty,” she continues, ignoring his interruption. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“What about now?” Harry asks. “What are you thinking?”

“I… I’m thinking that I am going to kill you for doing this when I’m covered in whipped cream.”

“As long as you marry me first you can kill me all you like,” Harry promises. He coaxes her up and off of her stool again, pulling her into his lap. He kisses her jaw, her cheekbone and then her mouth. “Marry me?” he whispers with each kiss. He holds the ring carefully, feeling for her fourth finger before sliding it on.

“Of course I will,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck to help keep her balance. “God, Harry, this ring is amazing.”

“It’s my grandmother’s ring,” he says. He kisses her neck, knowing she’s looking over his shoulder at the opal setting. “I asked mum for it and she said she’d already told Gemma ‘no’ once because she knew I’d want it for you.”

“You’re everything,” Veronica says, pulling back to look at him. “My absolute everything.”

“And you’re mine,” Harry says, pulling her in for a proper kiss.

“We’re not uploading this video,” she says when the kiss ends.

“Why not?” Harry asks.

“Babe, everyone will unfollow me when they see this sappy shit.”

“Nah,” Harry whispers, nudging her cheek with his nose and following it with another kiss. “Your followers love seeing how happy you are. I’m lucky that I get to be the one making you happy.”

She grins, stroking his jaw with her left hand. “Thank you, babe, for loving me.”

“As if I could live any other way,” he scoffs. “You’re the best thing in my entire life.”

“Better than your guitars?” she teases. Harry thinks about it for a moment, smiling impossibly hard before nodding. “Wow,” she says. “I think I won this video, though.”

“How do you figure that?” he asks, distracted.

“You kind of forfeited. Your last question was a cheat.”

Harry rolls his eyes and kisses her again. “You’re the winner,” he agrees. I won already, he thinks to himself.

Chapter Text

It isn’t that the bedroom looks particularly different. There’s the same four walls, three of which are covered in Zayn’s art and the fourth is blank in wait of something Zayn promises is going to be ‘sick and epic, just wait.’ The bedroom looks nearly the same as it does during every other video Zayn’s ever made, but Harry isn’t used to being on this side of the camera and he can’t stop his wandering gaze. Harry lets his eyes linger on the group of monster faces in the far corner before turning and facing forward again.

“You ready, babe?” Zayn asks, smiling almost shyly.

Harry leans in for a quick kiss before he pulls back and nods. “I’m nervous I’ll mess it up,” he confesses.

“We can always go back and edit,” Zayn promises, turning to turn the camera on. Harry squints into the box lights for a moment before turning back. “Hi guys,” Zayn says into the camera, tucking his hair behind his ear. “So, I know I promised a movie review video next but then this guy,” he points his index finger at Harry and grins wide, “decided he was finally ready to be in a video for us. For those of you who don’t know, this is my boyfriend, Harry. Say hi.”

“Hi,” Harry says, forcing his nerves away. He gets on stage and performs songs he’s written from the bottom of his heart; being on Zayn’s channel for a day is definitely something he can handle. He realizes his self-soothing deep breaths have distracted him a bit when Zayn nudges him with his elbow. “Sorry, what?”

Zayn laughs at him, a soft and private sound that Zayn doesn’t seem to mind will be broadcast to the truly impressive number of people who subscribe to his channel- the last time Harry had checked, the follower count was just over half a million people- and he feels himself finally relax completely, leaning in to kiss Zayn again. “Can we start again?” he asks in a whisper.

“Yeah, ‘course we can.”

Harry pays better attention while Zayn repeats his intro, making sure he drags out his ‘hi’ and puts more enthusiasm into his voice. This time, he hears when Zayn asks him if he’s excited. “Yeah. I mean, I wanted to do the blindfolded ‘which body part’ challenge but you said that was for after filming.” Zayn punches him in the arm, shushing him. “Kidding, of course.”

“We’re going to do the ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ video, which a lot of you on here and on insta have been requesting.”

“They like the pictures I post of you,” Harry supplies.

“Yeah, the black and white aesthetic seems to be pretty popular, maybe I’ll have to adopt it a bit. How are you feeling about doing my makeup today, though?”

“I’m feeling pretty confident, actually. I watch when you do your makeup, so I think I’ll be really good at this. I’m gonna get a hole-in-one. Hit the grand slam. Nothing but net.”

He turns just in time to watch Zayn roll his eyes for the camera. “Moving on. Since you’re at a slight disadvantage over other boyfriends since I’m not always in a ‘girl’ and a ‘makeup’ mindset at the same time, we’re going to bend the rules just a little bit for you.”

“I get a handicap?” Harry asks, grinning.

“Sure, and we’re going to blame your friendship with Niall for the sport terminologies.”

“Hey, I don’t need Niall to teach me sport terminologies.” Zayn raises his brow. ”I don’t think I know any more anyway.”

“Thank god,” Zayn teases. “Okay, so, Harry here is going to have a picture of me with a full face of makeup, but he can only look at it right now and then one time during the video. He can have a peek. Although he gets bonus points if he doesn’t need the peek. We’ve seen others do this in their videos and I thought it would be helpful.”

“Sounds fair, I think I can do that.”

Zayn shifts a bit on the bed, pushing his hair behind his ear again. Harry likes the hairpiece he’s wearing today, likes the way the long curls splay down his back and rest between the sharp juts of his shoulder blades through his thin white blouse.

“So, Harry has my makeup all right here. I took it out of our bathroom and put it in his guitar case, so it’s not organized or anything. It’s all-“

“Discombobulated,” Harry says, laughing when Zayn smiles and repeats it. “I think we should have done this in the loo so I could take advantage of your organization system.” He turns to face the camera. “Zayn’s terribly organized.”

“You love it.”

“I love you, ‘course.” He pretends he doesn’t see Zayn’s blush, knows Zayn warned him earlier that his cheesiness will be edited out at the end. Harry thinks he can convince him to keep a few things in the video though.

“So, I’m not allowed to talk you through it or help you out at all. You’ve got to do it all on your own and you’ve got to try to make it look good- can’t cheat and start doing something crazy, yeah?”

“Excuse me, Zayn, I would never.”

He lets the camera get a shot of his wounded look, already playing up for the audience the way he does when he’s on stage and he calls Zayn out in the crowd as the inspiration for much of his music. It’s the one thing in his life he has no question about- his love for and need to make Zayn happy. It’s an all-consuming urge.

“So, then, let’s get on with it. What are you going to start with first?” Zayn asks as he pins back his hair so it doesn’t fall in his face.

“Lotion,” Harry says decidedly. “Got to prep it, right?”

“Prep what?”

“I don’t know- like with your canvases. You prep it first.”

“’It rubs the lotion on its skin’,” Zayn recites.

Harry snorts out a laugh, closing his eyes and hanging his head.

“’It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again!’” Zayn half-shouts, giggling as Harry nudges his forehead against Zayn’s shoulder.

“Stop, okay, is that a ‘no’ for lotion then?” Harry laughs, lifting his head to look up at Zayn, who is flushed pretty from laughing.

“’Put the fucking lotion in the basket!’”

Zayn’s fringe has fallen in front of his ear again, and Harry tucks the piece behind his ear, still chuckling. He tosses the lotion back down, a bit miffed that it was put in there as a decoy. Zayn nudges his chin with a knuckle, getting Harry’s attention again. He raises a brow when he looks back to his boyfriend.

“What?”

With a small shake of his head and a smaller smile, Zayn pulls Harry in with the finger still under his chin. Understanding what he wants, Harry crowds into his space for a quick kiss. He pulls away a bit too soon, the two of them giggling for another second before he re-focuses on the task at hand.

Harry debates on it a moment, trying to remember which item Zayn usually grabs first. He knows it’s one of the small bottles and he picks one at random. “There’s no way we’re going to use all of these, right? Like, there are other decoys?” he asks, glancing up at Zayn through his lashes.

“I don’t know, babe, I can’t tell you.”

Narrowing his eyes, he catalogues the smirk on Zayn’s face for retribution later. He looks at the bottle in his hand. “Primer,” he reads aloud. “Is that right? You’re not going to tell me, I don’t know why I’m asking.” He can tell Zayn is biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Useless,” Harry teases, snapping open the tube and pouring some into his hand.

“Whoa,” Zayn says, and Harry looks up at him.

“Too much?”

“Um, a bit.” Harry can tell Zayn’s trying to hide his shock and he looks down at his palm. It doesn’t seem like very much to him but he tries to slip some of it back into the jar, laughing along with Zayn as it accomplishes practically nothing.

“Are you sure we can’t do the blindfold challenge?” Harry asks, managing to close the primer and set it down and to the side. “I’d be really good at guessing your body parts.”

“I’m not going to let you feel me up on camera, slag.”

Harry pouts, dipping his finger in the pool of primer. He tries to mimic the dots he’s seen Zayn make, but he forgets exactly where they go so he thinks he adds too many by the way Zayn’s grinning at him. “Stop making fun of me.”

“’M not. You’re doing well, promise.”

“Liar,” Harry drawls. He uses a hand towel nearby to wipe off the excess from his palm. “You usually use a brush to do that, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Zayn concedes. “Less messy.”

“Okay,” Harry says. He looks down at the mess of products in the case. There’s approximately ninety or a million brushes for him to choose from, and he picks one at random. He presses the bristles to the inside of his wrist, fingers jerking from the almost-tickle it creates, and then holds it up. “I’m going to use this one,” he says carefully, mind going blank when Zayn helpfully supplies the name of the brush. “I know you aren’t supposed to tell me,” he continues, “but please blink twice if I am going to ruin this brush for you forever.”

Zayn blinks once, slowly, and then smirks as he opens his eyes wide afterwards.

“One blink, safe to use. Good to know.” He tries to copy what he’s seen Zayn do again, but the wince on his face lets Harry know he’s probably pressing a bit too hard. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Zayn reassures, smiling when Harry lessens up. “Just felt like you were trying to smear my skin off. I’d quite like for it to stay where it is.”

“Rude.”

Once he’s satisfied with his blending, he puts the brush back down.

He sticks his hand in the case again, fingers separating the bottles and contemplating his next move. Normally, when Zayn wakes up feeling a bit more feminine than the usual ‘middle-ish’ state, she’ll go without makeup. When she does up a full face, she lets Harry sit in with her if he’s around. It’s always been something he enjoyed watching his mum do, and then Gemma when she was a bit older. He never really thought he’d be doing his boyfriend’s makeup one day, but that was before he had met Zayn.

He’s startled from his thoughts by Zayn’s fingers waving in front of his face.

“Hmm?” he hums, looking up at him.

“Did I lose you there for a minute?” Zayn asks with a grin. “You forget what I do next?”

“A bit,” Harry admits. “Mainly I was thinking about how lucky I am that you trusted me enough to bring me into your life.”

“Sap.”

“A bit,” Harry repeats, grinning now. He looks back down to the case. Finally, a familiar tube stands out from the rest. “Aha.”

It takes a moment to focus on the words, Zayn snorting in the way he always does right before he tells Harry he’s going to need glasses one day. Finally, he makes it out.

“Concealer. What is this for?”

“Like, bad spots. Stuff you want to cover up. Imperfections.”

“Oh, I see.” He chucks it onto the other side of the guitar case.

“You’re not going to use it?”

“Not really interested in covering up anything on you, am I? No imperfections to be found.”

Zayn opens his mouth to retort and Harry looks up with a smug grin. Zayn just shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Harry moves on to the next part.

“The first part of building a house is laying the foundation,” he says as he picks up a glass jar. “Makes sense this is the first thing here too.”

“Technically, though, you put the primer down first,” Zayn points out.

Harry hesitates. “Fair point. Either way, this is next.”

“Okay,” Zayn says. “Which shade?”

“What?” Harry looks down, seeing another, identical glass jar. He picks it up as well. “Are these different colours?”

“Do they look different?”

“Not really,” Harry says. He holds them up to the light more. “Oh, I see the colours now. Which one should I- you’re not going to tell me. Um.” He holds them up next to Zayn’s cheeks. It’s impossible to tell, neither of them look much like his boyfriend’s skin but he picks one at random and pours a dollop on the back of his hand. He picks up the same brush as before, figures it’s a good choice.

(He misses the frown Zayn pulls at his decision but sees it on the playback later.)

He dips the brush into the puddle on his hand, sweeping it across Zayn’s cheeks and forehead. He tries to brush down his nose and chin, going over and over Zayn’s skin until he can’t see the outline ofr the streaks anymore.

He puts the jars in the top of his guitar case. A thought occurs to him. “Why’d you use my guitar case anyway?”

Zayn shrugs. “You left your guitar on its stand so it was empty and there.” He turns back to the camera, which Harry keeps almost forgetting about. “Harry’s a musician, so he’s always sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to play on his guitar or keyboard.”

“You get really mad when I wake you up, though.” Harry looks to the camera, a funny story occurring to him. “Fun fact: I’ve had a Youtube account for, like, three years. I upload my covers and original pieces and small things-“

“Link in the bio or click on Harry’s pretty face,” Zayn cuts in with a grin.

“Yeah, don’t. It’s nothing like Zayn’s channel, but anyway. I do alright. I’ve got a fair few followers. When we met, Zayn had no idea about how Youtube worked and, after about six months of us dating, this channel started. Within, I don’t know, two or three videos he had almost twenty or thirty thousand more followers than I did.”

Harry doesn’t need to look at Zayn to know there’s a smug smile on his face but he never really passes up the chance to look at him. Zayn is, indeed, looking at him. Before he even opens his mouth, Harry knows what he is going to say but he doesn’t stop him. “I told you, babe. Beauty blogs are more popular.”

“My baby is just talented.”

“Shut up.”

“Honestly though,” Harry says as he glances back at the camera. “Who wouldn’t want to watch this absolutely beautiful person? I’d watch a video of you picking your nose for ten minutes straight.”

“You’re ridiculous and I am editing all of this out,” Zayn promises as Harry leans in for another kiss and then a few more.

(He does edit it a bit but he leaves in most of the sappy things Harry said so he doesn’t really mind.)

When Harry finally stops pressing kisses to Zayn’s lips and jawline, he pulls away and takes a deep breath before turning back to the makeup.

“You’re not serious?” Zayn asks, straightening in his chair and pulling the hem of his shirt down where it’s ridden up, showing the cut of his ‘v’ and the beginning of his abdomen.

“We have to finish the video,” Harry shrugs, pretending like it isn’t taking all of his self-control to not spread Zayn out on the bed they’re already conveniently seated in front of.

Zayn looks like he is going to protest for a moment but then he catches sight of the still-rolling camera and seems to change his mind. “Okay, what are you going to do next?”

“Eyes, I think you do your eyes now.”

“Which part?”

“What-“ Harry looks at him, confused. What does he mean by ‘which part’? He leans in a bit to get a better look at Zayn’s eyes, looking for an extra piece that he’s never noticed before. “How many parts are there?”

Zayn shifts in his seat, pulling his legs up and underneath his bum. He’s grinning. “There’s m’eyebrows, shadow primer, eye shadow, eye liner and mascara.”

“You do all of that for your eyes?”

Laughing. Zayn is laughing at him now, head thrown back as Harry pouts down at the case. He goes through nearly every item, pulling out everything that has the word ‘eye’ on it and putting it to the side. Then he sorts the pile further into shadows, liners, brushes and miscellaneous.

When he looks up, Zayn is staring at him with a grin.

“I’m taking quite a bit of time, aren’t I?”

“I can fast forward.”

“Not going to edit it out?”

“Are you kidding me? This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen: you’re taking this very seriously.”

“I want to win.”

“What are you going to win?” Zayn asks him. “This isn’t a competition.”

“I’m going to be the best in the ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ tag. I can assure you.”

“You’re making that weirdly intense face,” Zayn says thoughtfully.

Harry pauses at that, taking a second to gauge Zayn’s body language and expression. They’ve been together long enough that Zayn’s teased him about his so-called ‘freaky frog face’ on more than a few occasions but Harry always needs to assure himself that he isn’t freaking Zayn out too much. But Zayn looks plenty relaxed and intrigued. “Is it sexy?” he asks instead.

“Oh, yeah, always,” Zayn assures him in a deadpan.

Satisfied with his piles, Harry picks up a thicker tube and reads from it. “Mascara… that’s for lashes, I know that.”

“You going to do that first?” Zayn asks.

Looking up at that, Harry reads the wince on his lips. “Nope,” he decides, taking the hint. “I’m going to line your eyes-“

Zayn gives a subtle shake.

“-not next,” Harry quickly finishes. He looks down. Shadow then. He looks through the miscellaneous items, knowing Zayn always puts something beigey on his eyes before he adds any colours. He finds something that’s called ‘shadow base’ and hopes he’s found the right product.

When he goes to actually put some on Zayn’s eyes, though, he finds that their impromptu makeout has shifted their chairs a bit. Zayn’s curled up in his chair and too far away, so Harry carefully tugs the chair over, wincing at the sound it makes as it drags against the wood floor of their bedroom.

“Hi,” he says when he’s done.

“Hello,” Zayn laughs.

“Close your eyes please.”

Surprisingly, Zayn listens without hesitating. Harry twists out the wand for the base, wiping off some excess and applying it carefully to Zayn’s eyelids. He closes it and tosses it aside before cupping Zayn’s face in his hands. Zayn’s still sitting with his eyes closed, and Harry feels a bit of heat curling in his stomach. He wants to kiss Zayn stupid some more, but it was his idea to finish the video and he’s got a reason, now, to hurry a bit.

With his fingers along the edge of Zayn’s hairline, he gentles his thumbs over Zayn’s closed lids to spread the base evenly. When he pulls back, Zayn blinks his eyes open, still grinning. “What next?” Zayn asks.

“Colour. Gold or brown,” he adds quickly when he senses Zayn’s next question. “I’m going to use…” he hesitates, searching for the brown palette he knows he has seen many times before. “This one. And then I’m going to use this brush,” he finishes, picking up a brush with a small head. He hesitates, fingering the bristles and rubbing his index finger against his thumb. The bristle is slightly tacky, not quite dirty but used in a way that Harry thinks it may be for lips instead.

There are fifteen or so different brushes of all shapes and sizes, and Harry finds another small one with softer bristles. He holds it up for Zayn’s inspection.

“Same two-blink rule applies.”

This time, Zayn doesn’t even tease him with a slow blink. His eyes remain open and sparkling.

“Nice, I’m going to use this one then.” He half-heartedly shows the brush to the camera, knowing Zayn will edit in chat bubbles to name the products. Snapping open the shadow, he takes a moment. There’s more colours than he expected, but he quickly notes the two that look like they’ve been used the most. “I think I’m going to use these two colours,” he says, showing Zayn and then the camera.

“Do whatever you like, babe,” Zayn says, feigning indifference.

“No, don’t try that: I know I’m right about this.”

Zayn attempts another shrug but he’s smiling too much, and Harry rests his left hand along the cut of Zayn’s jaw to keep him steady as he brings the brush to the palette with his right hand, fills it with some powder and then tries to carefully apply it to Zayn’s eyelids. He growls a bit in frustration when it all clumps in one spot instead of spreading the way he knows it’s supposed to, making Zayn giggle again.

“Stop moving,” he hisses through a grin.

“You’re so serious,” Zayn teases, pulling his head back. “I can hear you breathing.”

Harry pouts when Zayn mimics his breathing. “I want this to be perfect.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Zayn apologises, appearing sincere. He closes his eyes and tilts his face up again, his forehead visibly relaxing when Harry cups his cheek.

He finishes the eye shadow, unsatisfied with the way the gold powder, specifically, kept falling off the brush. Zayn’s cheeks are littered with gold flecks of shadow, and Harry blows gently to get them off. Zayn blinks open, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Alright?” he asks.

Harry nods and tosses the eyeshadow palette to the side, grabbing for the liner. There’s two choices of colour, and he debates with himself between purple and blue before picking one at random and tossing the other to the side. He holds it out for the camera again, before uncapping the pencil.

“How do I-“ he says, trying to hold the pencil correctly. He feels awkward, trying to use his left hand to keep Zayn’s top eyelid still while he drags the colour along his lash line with his right.

“Thanks for making me pretty, babe,” Zayn says after Harry finishes his left eye.

“You’re always pretty,” Harry insists, actually leaning back until Zayn’s eyes open and he looks at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“You mean: you’re absolutely stunning.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Satisfied, Harry leans forward again to start Zayn’s right eye, hesitating when he can’t figure out how to hold his arm. “How- your nose is completely in the way.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Zayn chuckles.

“Can we move it, just for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme jus’ grab my nose and move it to my forehead or something so you can do me liner.”

“Cheers, yeah.” He ignores Zayn laughing, curving an arm around his head. It makes it awkward, as if he’s doing Zayn’s right eye upside-down, but he gets a mostly straight line so he doesn’t care how he looks.

“Done with the eyes,” he cheers a bit, tossing the pencil into the open case and taking stock of the remaining items.

“You’re all done?” Zayn asks, incredulous.

Harry looks over at him, scanning his face. “Did I miss anything?”

“We didn’t do mascara or eyebrows.”

“Oh, mascara I remember. What do you do to your eyebrows?”

“You’re serious?” Zayn asks.

Harry’s baffled. “Your eyebrows look alright to me, but mascara is coming up right now.”

Zayn rolls his eyes fondly but lets Harry tilt his face how he likes, twisting his arm in the same way to apply the mascara to Zayn’s lashes. He somehow manages to apply a mostly-even coat.

“You’re supposed to fill in my eyebrows.”

“Fill in what?”

“Like, if I over-plucked them or there’s uneven spots. You use a powder and fill in what I missed.”

“You did it perfect,” Harry says, not understanding. “Okay, now we’re done with the eyes,” he says, ignoring the stubborn set to Zayn’s mouth that indicates he somehow, still, wants to argue for his eyebrows. “All that’s left is lips and blusher, I guess.”

He touches the blusher first, so he picks it up and finds a brush with a pink-tint to its bristles. He dips it into the blush powder, knowing to knock the stem of the brush against the rim of the jar to get rid of the excess. He’s seen Zayn do it too many times to count, usually flawlessly and without making a mess.

Harry doesn’t manage the same feat. He gets more blusher on his hand than he does on the brush, but Zayn only laughs at him a little so he gives the camera a rueful smile before trying again with better results.

“Suck your cheeks in,” he commands. Zayn hesitates but then complies, and Harry sweeps the pink onto Zayn’s already warm cheeks.

(Later, he watches the playback and sees the little cartoon thought bubbles that Zayn always incorporates into his videos; usually to remember to name a specific product but also used to show the thoughts he’d rather not say. He wishes Zayn would have just told him that sucking his cheeks in wasn’t the right thing to do, but he admits it’s pretty funny either way).

In all honesty, Harry thinks he’s done a rather nice job of it. Zayn doesn’t look exactly the same as he does when he’s done it himself but his makeup is still done quite well.

When he finally gets to the lipstick, the very last touch, he begins to sweat. Having Zayn’s mouth parted and eyes gently shut so Harry can paint a truly brilliant shade of red onto his decidedly sinful mouth is almost too much temptation. He feels a tightness in his trousers and he shifts from side to side a bit.

He mimics what he’s seen women do after putting on their lipstick, rubbing his lips together and then popping his mouth open. Zayn copies it easily, his mouth looking somehow more obscene. Harry shifts again, swallowing thickly. Zayn glances down.

“Haz,” he scolds, seeing the hardly-there chub he’s sporting. “This is supposed to be a family-friendly show.”

“Can’t help it,” Harry scolds right back. “D’you’ve any idea how you look right now? You’re all done, by the way.”

“Really?” Zayn asks. “You sure you don’t wanna peak at the picture again?”

“Nope,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’. “I’m pretty sure I nailed it.”

“Okay babe, we’’ll just have to see.” Harry watches as Zayn grabs a mirror off from the side, taking a moment to catalogue Harry’s efforts. He’s tilting his head from side to side, checking out his jawline and eyes in particular.

Harry’s never good with patience, and even worse when he’s waiting for the verdict. “So? Would you go out like that?”

“Probably not,” Zayn admits with a soft frown. At Harry’s noise of outrage, Zayn winces and points out the spots where his foundation is a bit weak, where his eyebrows aren’t filled in and his eyeliner is apparently the wrong shade for an ‘everyday’ look. And a bit crooked.

“You kept moving!” Harry insists. He knows he’s pouting, knows the camera is catching all of it, but he doesn’t care. He had thought he had done so well. “Out of five?” he asks.

“Three out of five.”

“I think I did a five out of five. Possibly six.”

Zayn laughs and leans forward, cupping Harry’s cheeks and dragging him in for a kiss. It isn’t nearly as long as Harry would like, but Zayn’s smiling when he pulls back and that’s all that matters.

Harry tunes Zayn out as he closes the video by teasing the audience with what they’re going to do the next time Harry joins them. As soon as the video is done being filmed and is ready to go through the editing process, Harry shifts his guitar case to the floor and coaxes Zayn onto the bed on his back.

“I think you look brilliant.”

“Well, you always think I look brilliant, so your opinion doesn’t count, babe.”

Harry can’t argue it, so he sticks to bringing their mouths together for as long as it takes for Zayn to lose his breath, pulling his head away to rest it on the pillow as he gasps.

“I love you; whether you are feeling more like Zayn or Vee or anything in-between, I love all ‘you’s” Harry says, painfully earnest as usual. “Thank you, so much, for bringing me in for this video. I’m happy I got to show you how much I love this part of you.”

Zayn’s flushed from their kisses and the compliments, but he leans up to steal a gentle kiss from Harry’s lips. “I’m just happy you want to do another video with me.”

“Yes, but we’re doing the blindfold one next,” Harry insists.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I won’t be able to edit that one family friendly enough.”

“It can be just for us,” Harry is quick to state.

“We’ll see,” Zayn promises, but the gleam in his eyes tells Harry that he’s won.