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Choosing the right Halloween costume is a lot like writing a good song. For Harry, it’s all in the details. A song is nothing without a melody or a key, but oftentimes it’s the harmony, rhythm, and lyrics that bring it to life. Much like the costume that Harry’s been waiting to wear since the first of October, it’s not the hunter green jumpsuit or the white t-shirt he’s wearing underneath that sell it. It’s the polished black boots on his feet, the military naval air badges he made earlier today covering his chest, the almost twenty minutes he spent slicking his hair back to eighties perfection, and of course the black aviators he saw in a shop window which became the inspiration for tonight’s whole ensemble.
“Perfect,” Harry grins, popping the collar of his jumpsuit as he takes in his own reflection.
There’s knock at the door just as Harry finishes rolling up his sleeves. He has time to do one final mirror check of his hair before another impatient knock sounds forcing Harry to run for the door, making sure he grabs his phone on the way out of his room.
Harry reaches the front of his flat just as a third knock starts up and keeps going until he finally opens the door with a flourish to reveal an annoyed-looking Han Solo carrying a plastic water gun holstered on his right hip who just blinks as Harry shouts the catch phrase he’s holding onto all night.
“I FEEL THE NEED!”
“To shout at me in a tight jumpsuit?” The next line was supposed to more along the lines of, ‘the need for speed,’ but clearly they’re improvising here. “So,” his friend Niall smirks. “This is the big reveal you’ve been hiding all month? Tom Cruise?”
Harry frowns in offense, his furrowed brow displacing his aviators on the ridge of his nose so he snatches them off his face. “What? No, I’m not Tom Cruise,” he insists to which Niall raises an unconvinced eyebrow. “I’m Maverick from Top Gun as played by Tom Cruise.”
“Right. So… Tom Cruise?” his best friend laughs after another look at his costume.
Harry rolls his eyes, refusing to let Niall’s teasing dampen his air fighter spirits. “Whatever, Skywalker. No one asked you.”
“I’m obviously Han Solo. Captain of the Millennium Falcon and greatest leader of the Rebel Alliance. He’s the best,” Niall says, pointing to his water gun before unbuckling it from his holster to pump a few squirts into his own mouth. “Want some?”
Who knew Niall liked Han Solo so much. And also developed an aversion to drinking glasses since the last time Harry saw him.
“Er- No thanks. Pass,” Harry answers, grimacing watching Niall shrug off his decline and take another drink from his gun. “You know, I do have water here if you’re thirsty, Ni. All you have to do is ask,” Harry kindly reminds his friend in case he has forgotten that key fact.
“It’s not water. It’s tequila,” Niall reveals and suddenly his choice of costume makes a lot more sense. As does the lovely pre-game glow visible on Niall’s face that Harry needs to get a move on replicating for himself since it’s now half-past ten, officially making them both fashionably late to a party that’s been brewing since nine.
“Oooh,” Harry beams, no longer finding Niall’s alternative to a drinking glasses so gross now that there’s booze involved. “Well, in that case, I do want some. Thanks, mate.”
*
The walk over to Liam’s seems to go faster than past times whenever Harry has accompanied Niall over to his friend’s. Each time that Harry has tagged along, meeting Liam and getting to know him has been great. It’s been so great in fact that Harry now considers Liam a friend too. The feeling must be mutual because Liam personally invited Harry to this party tonight that he’s throwing along with his elusive housemate who hasn’t been home anytime Harry’s been over.
“Li’s excited you’re coming.” Niall chirps once they’re so close that they can hear the soft thump of a bassline just a couple of blocks away. “Open.”
Harry stops going out of his way to crunch every giant fallen leaf under his boots to do as he’s told, turning to face Niall with his mouth wide to catch another mini shot of tequila from Niall’s water gun. It burns on the way down his throat, but noticeably less than the first few water gun shots he downed. It’s possible he’s a little drunk.
“What’s he dressing up as again?”
“Don’t know,” Niall shrugs before squirting more tequila into his own mouth. “I think he’s some superhero person. The green one.”
Several green ones come to mind. Harry doesn’t get to ask which green one Niall is referring to before he speaks up again.
“You know, his housemate’s supposed to be there too,” Niall continues with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“You mean the one I’ve never met who may or may not really exist?”
“Oh, he exists,” his best friend assures him with a smirk. “And, word on the street is he’s quite happy you’re going to be there too. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
“The person Liam claims to live with and whom I’ve never met before is looking forward to meeting me.” Even saying it outside of his head sounds a bit suspect. “Why?” he frowns, sticking out his tongue when Niall aims the tequila gun at him again.
“I don’t know. Why not?” his best friend answers after randomly upping the serving size of mini alcohol shots from one squirt to three. “Maybe he likes you.”
“Likes me?” Harry laughs up at the night sky. “He doesn’t even know me.”
“He knows of you. And apparently, he likes what he’s heard.”
Harry isn’t too sure what to do with that information and the drunken, suggestive eyebrow wiggles that came with it.
“But- But then... how does he know of me? Who’s been talking to him and telling him things about me?”
Niall just smiles, walking ahead of Harry standing still, confused, and frowning in the middle of the pavement when Niall mumbles back something that sounds like ‘Mate, who hasn’t.’
********
Louis rolls up his right sleeve a bit further to reach the couple of beer bottles at the very bottom of the cooler, low enough so that some of the tattoos inked across his forearm are still hidden and yet high enough to avoid getting his lovely military jumpsuit wet. A smart move on his part since it cost a fucking fortune at the costume shop today, but it’s pretty sick, he feels cool in it (along with the dark aviators he already had lying around to match), and Louis can’t be certain but he’s pretty sure his bum has never looked better in anything. All in all, the price he paid to look as awesome as Tom Cruise did in Top Gun was totally worth it. Especially, if Niall’s friend Harry who he’s heard so much about is going to be here to see it. Honestly, Louis’ just as excited about that and the two of them finally getting to meet as he is his about his costume and this whole party.
“Do you think we need more beers?” someone asks over the music right before a loud thump and a groan echoes in the room. A thump and a groan that could only be the result of Liam, his housemate, accidentally banging his knee against something. Again. “I swear I can’t see a bloody thing with this dumb eye mask,” he grumbles mostly to himself, coming to stand next to Louis with a huff. “Anyway. So, beers. What do you think?”
“Eh, could always stand to have a few more. Also, some tequila since lately it’s Niall’s go-to,” Louis shrugs as he looks over the vast assortment of drinks they’ve collected for their guests. Most of their guests who got here at nine have already had at least one. It’s as he’s calculating that Louis realizes he doesn’t know the go-to of the most important guest of all. “Er- Li? What’s Harry’s go-to, do you think? What does he like?”
Louis slightly regrets asking the moment his friend’s lips turn up into a knowing grin just like the time Louis asked about Harry’s favorite color (pink), season (spring), movies (Love Actually, Bridesmaids, The Wedding Planner, and weirdly enough and also the inspiration for Louis’ ensemble tonight, Top Gun). He’d pick Harry’s brain and ask all those things himself if he weren’t so busy with work every time Harry happens to visit.
“Hmm. Interested in what he likes to drink now too, huh? Interesting.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “He’s a guest. I want him to feel welcome.”
“Welcome? You’re literally dressed as Tom Cruise right now,” Liam smirks.
“So?” Louis quips back. “Maybe I like Tom Cruise.”
Liam snorts from behind his dark green eye mask. “Since when?”
Since listening to literally everyone who knows Harry gush about how wonderful, funny, smart, and handsome he is and Louis not only took the bait but sank the whole hook into his chest. Also, the pictures he sees of Harry on Niall’s social media from time to time don’t hurt.
“Since now. I love Top Gun. It’s good,” Louis quips which just makes Liam laugh harder because Louis has maybe seen Top Gun once in his entire lifetime and he was most definitely high at the time. “Oh, shut it.” Louis’ hand is still cold from digging through the cooler so he uses it to make Liam yelp by reaching forward and shoving it down the front of his leather hooded jacket. An action that Liam doesn’t actually care about since he’s cackling just as much as he was before.
“You’re an idiot. I’m going to get more beer,” Louis rolls his eyes, however a grin quickly forms on his lips when his best mate stops laughing like an idiot and says something that’s actually useful.
“He likes spiced rum and whiskey, martinis are his go-to, and Niall texted a little while ago to say they’re on the way so hurry back,” he grins. “Don’t want to miss him again.”
Louis is out the door and in his car so fast he doesn’t even pause to thank him.
********
When they arrive, Harry gets the honor of ringing the doorbell which gets mostly drowned in the music playing inside the house but Liam still manages to hear it, bolting through his guests to get to the door and wrench it open with as much excitement as Harry did when it was his big costume reveal to Niall.
“Niall Horan and Harry Styles, YOU TWO HAVE FAILED THIS CITY!” their host growls from beneath a dark green outfit made of leather, complete with a giant green hood and eye mask.
Harry has been working on perfecting his character’s catchphrases since last night during his ten billionth viewing of Top Gun, so he has quite the appreciation for Liam’s efforts and however long it took him to do the same. He’s just about to commend Liam on his level of commitment and his awesome costume when Niall’s brow furrows.
“Does Robin Hood even say that, though?” he blurts out making Liam’s expression fall to match the look of confusion on Niall’s face. “And… I thought you were being some kind of awesome superhero? Since when does bloody Robin Hood count?”
“Um, since never since he’s not a hero and I’m not even dressed up as him? I’m The Green Arrow?” Liam says, holding up his plastic bow and quiver strapped to his back full of arrows.
“Yeah, I know. Rich guy, stranded on an island who returns to Star City to fight crimes against society and save the poor,” Niall summarizes with a smirk. “Like I said, Robin Hood.”
“What Niall meant to say is your costume is amazing,” Harry butts in before The Green Arrow takes one of his plastic arrows and shoves it down drunk Han Solo’s throat. Apparently, he didn’t need to be the peacemaker, because the moment Liam looks at him his eyes travel the length of Harry’s costume and suddenly he’s smiling wider than Harry’s ever seen. “What?”
Liam doesn’t say anything for the longest time, still smiling like an idiot at God knows what. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Harry frowns, now looking down at whatever is so funny about his costume as well. "WHAT?"
“Nothing, Haz, I swear. It’s just- you’re Tom Cruise too,” he grins. ”Great minds and all that.”
Never mind the bizarre way Liam is still smiling at him or the fact that Harry is dressed up as Maverick and not Tom Cruise. The more pressing matter here is this other person walking around the party inside wearing his jumpsuit, his awesome aviators, and his naval air badges he spent literally the whole month of October putting together for this very moment.
“Too? Who is this other person?” Harry scoffs watching in horror as Green Arrow and drunk Han Solo have a silent conversation with their eyes that leaves both of them sporting knowing and annoying grins.
“This is already the best Halloween party ever,” Niall laughs right before shooting his gun at Harry without even a warning this time. Not that Harry cares that half his face now smells like tequila. Somebody stole his bloody costume. This is serious.
“Who the hell is ‘Too’?!”
*
There’s a whole table full of sparkly, colorful little shot glasses all lined up like an alcoholic rainbow that caught Harry’s attention the moment he walked into the living room and found a girl dressed as Ursula from the Little Mermaid and another girl dressed as a zombie pouring generous amounts of whiskey into them. Harry didn’t even protest when they spotted him and rounded him up with several other people to down them. In fact, Harry was quite thrilled because all he’s had tonight is Niall’s water gun tequila (the traitor) and half a beer he stole off of Liam (the other traitor), and Ursula and her zombie friend seem to like Harry so much that they even let him lead the big countdown.
“Alright, everyone listens to Tom Cruise! Get ready!”
“Maverick,” Harry kindly corrects his new undead friend, “And in the spirit of Top Gun, let’s turn and burn!”
Harry hadn’t meant his catchphrase to be so literal, listening to the room quiet as about a dozen people turn up their colorful shot glasses and then grimace as the whiskey scorches all the way down. The phrase ‘great balls of fire’ comes to mind but Harry doesn’t shout it out. His tingling throat won’t let him.
“Thanks for leading the charge,” Ursula says as she chases the alcohol after a swig of something much weaker that puts the big smile back on her face.
“Yeah, thanks. Maverick, right?” Zombie girl winks at him remembering not to call him Tom Cruise. “You and Lou are too cute, by the way,” she adds making Ursula coo next to her.
“Oh, I know, right? Matching costumes are always the best!”
“They are! Ugh, Emmy and I didn’t think about it this year but maybe next Halloween we can try couple costumes too. Give you and Lou a run for your money.”
By the time Harry pieces together what the girls mean they’ve already hugged Harry and taken off together hand-in-hand as they weave through the crowd, leaving Harry standing there with his sparkly pink shot glass in his hand and a fresh frown on his face.
Where is this other, lesser Maverick everyone’s obsessed with and since when are they a bloody couple? He’s got to be around here somewhere. And who the fuck is Lou?
Harry goes to pour himself some more whiskey before starting in his search for the imposter but quickly rethinks his idea when his throat burns at the mere thought of another shot. He opts for beer from the kitchen instead and returns the whiskey to its rightful place on the countertop. It’s too bad Ursula and her zombie girl didn’t leave behind a bottle of gin because the thing Harry could really go for right now that’s better than whiskey and beer combined is a nice, smooth martini. Preferably in a sparkly, colorful glass like the one he just had. And also, pink.
********
Louis and the evil traffic light before him have been caught in a stare-down ever since it decided to turn red just as Louis was about to cross through the last intersection before his and Liam’s house. The very last obstacle before Louis can make it home to his own party where everyone he and Liam know are currently having fun. Not to mention the boy Louis’ been dying to meet for months but hasn’t yet because every time he comes around the universe conspires against Louis and something goes wrong to keep him away. Kind of like this quick alcohol run which should’ve taken fifteen minutes at most and yet here he is a whole hour later with the gin and vermouth he finally found at the third shop he went to since the first was sold out and the second was closed, the olives he had to get from Tesco at which he nearly had an existential crisis because although Liam told him what Harry likes to drink he failed to mention whether he was a green olive or lemon twist kind of person so naturally Louis got both. And then, there were the martini glasses. Not necessarily a necessity nor easy to find so late at night, but the party shop where he bought his costume earlier today had some, and thankfully hadn’t closed yet. Yes, they are made of plastic instead of glass, and sure, they’re neon blue, and yeah, they may look like a baby unicorn threw up on them since they’re all sparkly with glitter, but they’ll just have to do.
By the time Louis gets home and finds a place to park amongst all of his and Liam’s guests it has been way past an hour. Not that Louis is angry that his parking spot has been taken because he’d much rather their friends leave their cars here than drive after drinking. He’s just anxious to get back inside, hoping Harry is still around.
He grabs everything and heads straight for the kitchen, firstly noticing how many more people are packed into the house now, and secondly, how ridiculous and hilarious Liam and Niall look where they’re sitting on the island sipping their respective drinks and finishing off a container of chocolate ice cream with two mixing spoons.
“Hungry, lads?”
“Starving,” Niall answers, frowning when Louis clears a small space beside them, unpacks everything he bought, and starts working on his bartending skills instead of hoping up on the island to join them. “What you making, Tommo?”
“Drinks,” Louis answers, squinting at the instructions he Googled and took a screenshot of after he realized he’s never made a martini in his entire life.
“Yeah, but what kind of drinks? And for who? Looks fancy. Like the kind of thing a very close friend of mine would enjoy,” Niall presses, his lips turning up into a smirk when Louis shoots a glare in his and Liam’s direction.
“Yeah, a friend who just so happens to be here at this very party,” Liam chimes in over Louis’ request for them to both fuck off. “A friend at this very party, who last I checked, was running around here looking for you.”
That certainly catches Louis’ attention. He even stops trying to pry open the jar of olives in his hands to face his friends head on.
“Wait- What did you say?”
Liam and Niall just drunkenly grin at one another.
“Better get going. It’s getting late,” Niall chirps as Louis rushes to fill a few glasses but taking extra care with one in particular to ensure its deliciousness as BestBartender.com claims.
“Fuck. Okay. I’m going to go talk to him,” Louis says, grabbing two of the drinks in his hands. “Er- What’s he dressed up as?” His friends burst out laughing this time which isn’t surprising considering how drunk they are, however it does make Louis feel as though he’s missed something. “What?”
“Trust me, you can’t miss each other,” Liam snorts. “Actually, I’m sure everyone else will just fly by your radar.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Seriously, guys? Top Gun jokes? Right Now?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, Tommo,” Niall cackles along. “You’re both moving targets but you’ll know him when you see him.”
“Is that right, now?” Louis deadpans to play along.
“Yeah, some might even say it’ll be like looking in a mirror.”
Louis has no idea what the hell Liam and Niall are on about with that last one, frowning as he tries to recall any people or characters associated with things mirror related. Unfortunately, only one comes to mind.
“…Something Snow White?”
His guess is clearly incorrect based on the howling laughter that erupts after he makes it. Idiots.
“Alright, I’m too sober for this. I’m leaving. Good luck with your ice cream.” Louis says since his friends were pretty much no help at all. They aren’t at all bothered by Louis’ departure either, still exchanging dumb pilot jokes even as he’s walking away and guests start helping themselves to martinis.
“Hey, Li, what do you call a space pilot who flies dangerously?” Niall can barely even out get his own answer of Han Yolo before the kitchen erupts in another fit of cackles.
********
When Harry initially set out to find his arch nemesis, he had every intention of marching right up to him, looking the copycat bastard who’s stealing his thunder square in the aviators, and then- and then. Well… he hadn’t really given much thought to what would happen after coming face-to-face with this person since Harry’s not that angry that someone else has his costume. He’s not angry at all really. Just slightly annoyed. Mostly because he worked really, really hard to pull off being Maverick in the first place. And sure, it may be selfish for Harry to think he should be the only one at this party or in the world, but damn it, he should be. And, he’s pretty sure his extreme passion about the situation is one-hundred percent linked to all the alcohol he’s consumed, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.
His big plan to confront Other Maverick doesn’t exactly pan out. He also forgets about it every few minutes since every time Harry takes a step there’s a new group of people beckoning him to come hangout, a drinking game that needs an extra player, or a song he loves demanding that he dance. There are distractions all around. Kind of like right now for instance as he, Beyoncé, Newt Scamander, and a jungle cat of some kind dance in a corridor that’s already packed with two dozen other people.
Imposter Maverick could be anywhere. Out in the garden smoking weed, downstairs playing beer pong, or even here, dancing somewhere in this very corridor. And somehow, Harry doesn’t care. All that matters in this particular moment is Rhianna blasting from the speakers, the spooky smoke coming from a machine somewhere making everything hazy, and the various random people Harry has seen drinking from large sparkly martini glasses that Harry apparently missed on his trip to the kitchen a little while ago. Even the guy dressed as the bloody Pope has one but he and a nun are dancing so far away and the music’s so loud that Harry can’t ask where he got it. It’s unfair, but luckily he spies another person wielding a martini glass and dressed as Mary Poppins weaving through the crowd.
“Ooh! Mary! I have a question!” he calls out, grinning in triumph when she stops and turns to him. “Great costume by the way. Love Mary Poppins. I need to where everyone’s getting those,” he says with a nods at the delicious drink in her hand. “I’d like one too.”
Mary Poppins goes to answer him but then seems very confused by the question when she does a double take of Harry’s costume and then of his face. As if the two don’t match the way she expected them to.
“Er- Well, I thought I got it from you, but you aren’t the Tom Cruise who was downstairs with all the drinks so I’m not too sure.”
Other Maverick strikes again.
“Oooh, wait! I might have a picture,” she says pulling out her phone to show Harry a picture of her and her friends and a person dressed just like Harry in the background. He looks good, whoever he is. Really, really good, but that’s not the point.
“Damn it. Is he still down there?” If he is, this could be Harry’s chance to finally find him. And to have a sparkly martini, but that’s for after he confronts the enemy.
“Uh, sorry again…” Mary winces. “He was only there for about a minute before he made a drink and took off. Everyone else started grabbing glasses too once he was gone and unfortunately, I think I got the last of them.”
So, not only did his nemesis steal his Halloween costume, but he also had the nerve to bring ingredients to make amazing looking martinis which, by the way, are Harry’s preferred drink, and he didn’t even get a chance to try one? Will this fake Maverick stop at nothing?
“I’ve got to find him,” Harry says with renewed determination.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Good luck with that,” Mary Poppins tells him, nodding as Harry scans the room to make sure his doppelganger isn’t here right now. “Er- But before you rush off would you mind if I have a quick picture? I love Top Gun and the other Maverick looked pretty busy so I didn’t want to be a bother,” she explains with a hopeful smile.
Harry looks around the corridor he’s packed into feeling sort of proud that someone likes his costume enough to want a picture with him. Other Maverick still needs to be dealt with. Also, Harry hasn’t seen his friends in a while or Liam’s alleged housemate so he should probably get on that too but selfies with Mary Poppins don’t come around every day. That’s Halloween gold.
“Yeah, sure thing!” Harry smiles back. “Aviators on or off?”
********
It feels like Louis’ been searching through the bloody Taj Mahal for Harry when his and Liam’s place is only a three bedroom house. That’s just how long he’s been going room to room in search of him, however, it should not be this hard to find someone who Louis knows is here at this party somewhere. He knows because each time he’s tapped on the shoulder, people keep mistaking him for Harry or asking where Louis’ costume partner has run off to which was all quite confusing at first, but after giving it some thought, the whole Top Gun/mirror bit from Liam and Niall made a lot of sense. And same as before, he maintains that the two of them are in fact idiots.
That’s nothing new of course. Those two have always loved being ridiculous and usually Louis is all for it. Most of the time he even joins in, but tonight is different. Tonight, Louis wants to get to know Harry and he can’t do that if he never talks to him, and he can’t talk to him if he can’t ever bloody well find him.
He’s just about to give up hoping to see him walk past or catch of glimpse of an outfit that resembles his own when he spots a girl dressed as Mary Poppins, squinting at him from across the garden as hard as Louis is now squinting at her. Odd. What’s even more odd is when the girl stands up from the grass and leaves her friends to walk over to him.
“You’re drink Tom Cruise!”
Louis didn’t realize there were variations of Tom Cruises. His confusion must be visible on his face because the moment he thinks it, Mary Poppins chuckles with a fond shake of her head. She sets down the empty martini glass in her hand that resembles the full one that Louis’ still holding to unlock her phone.
“You’re the Tom Cruise from the kitchen who was making a drink,” she says, coming to stand right beside him. Louis did make a drink earlier. Makes sense. “And this is dancing Tom Cruise,” she continues after a couple of swipes through her phone lands on a picture of the very person Louis’ been looking for all this time. He’s drunk, smiling from ear to ear, and dressed exactly like him. Though, Louis would argue that Harry makes a far better Tom Cruise than he ever could. He looks fucking amazing.
Further examination of the photo reveals a corridor that looks really familiar along with a closed bedroom door that belongs to Louis. Harry was right there the whole time. He checked upstairs a little while ago but somehow they must’ve missed one another. For some reason they just keep doing that.
“I’m going to go see if he’s still up there,” Louis tells the girl, pausing to let himself grin a little when she says it should be easy because Harry’s looking for him too.
********
This entire evening has been an adventure for Harry from the moment he arrived at this party already in full swing and it’s not any less unpredictable now as it’s slowly winding down. There aren’t as people anymore. Little by little, the volume of the music has decreased and guests have trickled out the door to walk home. Harry thinks he’d like to be one of them now that the combination of dance exhaustion and all the drinks he’s had tonight have started to hit him. He figures the alcohol and his sudden dip in energy level are to blame for his unsuccessful attempts at locating any of the people he set out to find. The other Maverick has probably left by now so Harry has given up on finding him, but Niall and Liam must still be around here somewhere. Harry just doesn’t want to move from his spot on the kitchen island he cleared off so he could have a little lie down and sober up first.
“Homebase, come in, this is pilot 292 reporting a party crash and burn. I repeat, we’ve got a man down, over,” a hooded figure snickers from the doorway followed by someone very Niall-sounding asking what the hell he’s doing napping in the kitchen.
Harry knew those two were around here somewhere.
“Couldn’t find him,” Harry sighs after cracking open his eyes to peek at his friends through his aviators. Clearly, that wasn’t an answer to anything either of them said based on the confused looks he’s met with.
“Er- Who couldn’t you find exactly?” Liam frowns.
“You know who,” Harry answers. “The imposter. The other Maverick. Whoever he was,” he mumbles.
His friends exchange another confused look before breaking out into big, stupid smiles.
“…You mean, Other Maverick, as in, Tommo?” Niall snorts making Harry roll his eyes again because he fails to see the humor in this. He also fails to understand what the fuck a ‘Tommo’ supposedly is.
“If that’s the same copycat/thief guy who had the same costume as me, then, yeah. Doesn’t matter though. He’s long gone now, I’m sure.”
“Wait a second,” Liam says incredulously. He even takes the time to remove his hood, eye mask, and even Harry’s aviators to look him dead in the eyes. “So, you’re telling me that you two never spoke tonight? You were in the same fucking place for hours and you still haven’t met?” Liam exclaims. “Seriously?!”
Harry is having trouble piecing together whatever the hell connection he’s missing here that his friends seem to find so fucking hilarious that they’re near tears.
“Hey. Stop laughing,” Harry frowns. “Tonight was a real disaster for me! He stole my costume to make me miserable.”
“He did no such thing!” Liam cackles back. “If anything, he wore it for the exact opposite.”
Now that makes no fucking sense. And they think Harry’s the overly drunk one here?
“Alright, enough of this. It’s gone on long enough. You two were supposed to finally get it right tonight. Clearly, you’re both idiots,” Niall announces once he and Liam have stopped cackling their heads off long enough to catch their breaths. “Li, make sure Drunk Maverick here stays put while I go track down the great ‘imposter’. I caught him upstairs earlier looking all sulky and now I know why.”
Harry scoffs aloud. He can’t even have sulking to himself. Incredible.
********
Louis doesn’t move when he hears faint knocking against his door. For the past half hour that the party has been winding down, Louis has heard various bumps and thumps throughout the house. Mostly from people collecting their friends to stumble home together or the occasional person looking for the guest room that he and Liam have left open for anybody needing a place to crash. Their sofa is also an option, but Louis saw that was already taken when he trekked up here in search of Harry who was nowhere to be found of course.
Louis doesn’t know why he’s lying in bed feeling so disappointed by that when the two of them running into each other has never ever happened in all the times Louis has tried to make it happen. Either way, he’s probably long gone now meaning Louis has missed his chance. Perhaps it’s just not meant to be?
Another series of knocks sounds at Louis’ door, much louder and intentional this time. Kind of like someone knows he’s in here which is something Louis has very actively been pretending to not be.
“I know you’re in there. Stop pouting and open up,” a voice which could only belong to Niall orders him.
“I am not pouting,” Louis calls back before unlocking his door to reveal his friend’s smug grin when he notices the now stale and untouched martini sitting on Louis’ bedside table. “Alright. I’m pouting. What do you want?”
“Why don’t you follow me and find out?”
Louis narrows his eyes at his friend. ‘Follow me and find out’ sounds just like something that someone who’s up to no good and trying to pull off a prank would say.
“Whatever it is, I’m tired, not interested, and not in the mood,” Louis tries, but Niall doesn’t seem to be listening as his smile grows.
“Trust me, mate. You want to follow me right now,” Niall assures him with a clap on the shoulder. “And, you’ll probably want to grab that martini you've been dragging around all night. You’ll thank me later.”
“Somehow, I seriously doubt that,” Louis mutters.
He is one-hundred percent walking into something that’s either going to leave him wet, annoyed, cold, pants-less, or all four, and yet he follows Niall without another word.
*
Louis feels like he’s walking on eggshells in his own house, internally jumping at every noise he hears in case of an ambush of some kind designed by the drunk Han Solo leading the way towards the kitchen. Niall’s eyes light up when they stop right outside the door which doesn’t exactly help Louis’ feelings of suspicion.
“I swear to God if someone dumps something cold over my head or tackles me I’ll have to kill you. And Liam.” Louis isn’t sure how his housemate is involved just yet, but if there’s a prank unfolding, he’s sure to be in on it too.
“For the last time, nothing sketchy is going on here!” Niall laughs. “We’re not going to shove ice from the cooler down your jumpsuit or like, put super glue around the rim of your bloody beer bottle or anything. What kind of sadistic person do you think I am?”
“The kind who comes up with things like super gluing people’s lips together on the fly?”
Niall gives him a flat look before ultimately nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s fucked up,” he admits. “Now, open the damn door.
Louis gives a great sigh and does as Niall says against his better judgement. He takes a step forward and braces himself for whatever’s waiting for him whether it be glue, ice, or some other device of torture. He blinks in confusion when nothing happens just like Niall said and Louis sees that the only thing waiting for him is a beautiful and very grumpy-looking naval fighter pilot sitting in the middle of the island and staring right at him.
“I think someone owes me an apology and that thank you I mentioned earlier,” Niall stage whispers wearing the biggest, shit-eating grin in the world.
“I think someone needs to kindly fuck off,” Louis quips back, proudly holding open the door for Niall and Liam to walk through it.
“Good luck,” Liam says with a light squeeze to Louis’ shoulder.
“Uh, yeah, thanks. I guess I might need some of that.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Liam snorts. “He had tequila and beer for dinner and he’s pissed off.”
The kitchen door swings shut on Liam and Niall’s laughter. Again, idiots. Louis is convinced that they’re both mistaken about Harry’s current mood. His eyes trail over Louis from head to toe and back up again in a way that that leaves Louis’ stomach fluttering the way he always hoped it would if they met. It doesn’t last very long because just as quickly as an approving grin appeared on Harry’s lips his brow furrows and he’s back to looking like a miffed kitten.
“You.”
*
Louis looks around the deserted kitchen and sees only himself standing on the other end of Harry’s glare.
“Sorry, me?” Louis chuckles
What hasn’t he done? Showing up here, making Harry’s brilliant costume idea look second rate, and then having the nerve to look fucking incredible while doing it.
“Do you know how long I planned this costume?” Harry inquires and then answers. “A month. A whole entire month.”
“Wow, that’s- a long time to work on something and it shows,” he grins. “You look great. I’m Louis. I live here.”
Harry can feel himself frowning, watching as his foe (who has apparently been Liam's housemate this whole time???) takes a few steps closer with a hand tentatively extended towards him. He looks even better up close, and although Harry has sworn to hate him for all eternity (or at least for the duration of this party), something about his eyes when Harry meets him halfway makes it impossible to find him annoying.
“I’m Harry.”
“I know. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
That much is obvious since they’re dressed in the exact same costume. Being reminded of that almost makes Harry’s cycle of annoyance with this person stealing his thunder start all over again, but Louis speaks up.
“So... I heard you like Top Gun. I don’t usually dress like Tom Cruise,” he chuckles, making the most beautiful array of smile lines appear at the corners of his eyes. "Special occasion."
“Maverick,” Harry kindly corrects him. “But, go on.”
“I also heard you like martinis. This one’s a little…well, gross,” Louis continues, now extending his other hand in offer that contains the very drink Harry wished for all night. “Don't worry. You don’t have to drink it.”
Harry’s pretty sure he’d die if he took so much as a sip of anything else alcoholic tonight, so he heeds Louis’ warning. However, he still accepts the drink made especially for him inside a glass that isn’t pink, but it’s as blue and sparkly as the pair of eyes that are still locked with Harry’s.
“I will puke all over this kitchen if I drink this, but it’s amazing. Thank you, Louis.”
Louis laughs at that, nodding in understanding. “Thanks for the warning there. You shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t mention it,” Harry jokes.
“And it’s totally okay that you don’t drink that martini. I just wanted you to have it, I guess. Made it for you.”
So, this is Liam’s alleged housemate who exists after all. The one who everyone has nothing but nice things to say about and does weirdly nice things like make strangers their favorite drinks. Harry’s got to admit, so far he’s pretty wonderful. Even if he is a costume thief.
“So, what’s yours then?” Harry asks, his stomach fluttering a bit when Louis smiles at the question.
“My what?
“Your favorite drink, of course.”
“What for? The party’s over.”
“Yeah I know,” Harry shrugs, grinning as his cheeks flush. “I meant for next time. In case I want to return the favor.”
That fluttery feeling in Harry’s stomach doubles in pace when Louis’ face lights up at the presumption.
“Next time, huh?”
********
One Year Later
Harry has no idea who’s calling his name right or why. It’s probably another distraction technique to try and get him off his game. Whoever it is should know better by now because though, because when it comes to him and beer pong there’s no such thing as losing. And when it comes to him and Louis, there is no better team.
“Ignore, Niall. He’s just trying to get your head,” his partner whispers, his fake mustache tickling Harry’s ear with every word. “This is it. Game point. You’ve fucking got this, babe.”
Harry loves when his boyfriend talks this way, momentarily sacrificing his perfect form to bite down on a grin and nudge him in the side of the blue overalls he’s wearing that are an exact replica of the ones Harry’s wearing too. The only difference is Harry’s hat and long-sleeved t-shirt underneath that’s Mario red, but they look just like Louis’ bright green ones.
“So…you think I got this, then?” Harry presses, feeling himself beam when the hottest Luigi he’s ever seen gives his waist a playful squeeze.
“You’ve so got this,” he whispers back. “And if we win-”
“When. When we win, you mean,” Harry corrects him watching their opponents and everyone else surrounding them in anticipation of this game ending fondly roll their eyes.
“Oi! Less flirting. More playing,” Liam barks out from across the table looking both hilarious and annoyed dressed as Batman. “Just throw the damn ball.”
“Yeah, throw it but preferably in that direction,” Niall, or Beckham, chimes in, pointing in the opposite direction from the cup Harry needs to aim for if he and Louis are going to win. “Or in some other direction that’s not near our last cup. It’s totally up to you how you want to lose,” he snorts.
“Fuck them,” Louis smiles against his ear. “They’re just bitter because they know they’re about to get their arses kicked by us.”
Fuck. Just the way he says it before dropping a kiss to Harry’s jaw has him all riled up.
“And when we win?” Harry asks again, his stomach already turning somersaults when his boyfriend sports a wicked grin.
“Hurry up and do it and you’ll find out.”
That’s all the motivation Harry needs to get his focus off of Louis’ bed upstairs and back on the game which they win the moment Harry’s aim lands his ping-pong ball right into Niall and Liam’s cup.
Their audience erupts into cheers and also a couple of groans from the loser’s side of the table. Not that Harry pays them any mind. Who care about what’s going on around him when Louis’ kissing him like they just won the world cup instead of a game of beer pong.
“I’m so fucking proud of you! We’re unstoppable!” Louis screams turning to their friends a few feet away to remind them and the rest of the world that was his and Harry’s sixth consecutive win of the night
“Ahem,” Harry interrupts causing Louis to face him again. “And what do we get for being so incredibly awesome and unstoppable?”
Hardly anyone is paying attention to them anymore now that the game is over. People have started shuffling away to go find something else to do so Harry and Louis try to blend in, walking hand-in-hand as quickly as possible towards the stairs.
“And just where are you two running off to so fast?” Niall shouts making Louis and Harry stop half-way up the staircase.
“Yeah, we want a rematch! We’re going again so the rightful winners can be crowned,” Liam joins in.
“Uh- Yeah, no thanks!” Harry grins down at them. “Next time!”
“Yeah. Something just came up!” Louis snorts. “We’re uh...busy!”
Their friends share flat looks at one another before facing Louis and Harry still inching their way up to freedom.
“Busy. Right,” Liam deadpans.
“Busy doing what exactly?” Niall teases.
Harry’s pretty sure it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they’re up to. And clearly, Louis has no issue letting Liam, Niall, and everyone else in the world know precisely what that is.
“We’re playing Mario Kart. Naked. And no, you can’t join.”
Harry can’t barely make it the rest of the way up the stairs from how hard he’s laughing at their friends’ expressions and someone’s quick response of ‘Who said anybody wanted to.’
Upstairs, they don’t have to give explanations to anybody when they sneak into Louis’ room and lock the door behind them. In fact, they don’t speak at all, stripping out of their overalls and crashing onto Louis’ bed for a long overdue kiss meant for just the two of them. And, apparently, random Mario Kart catchphrases they’ve been reciting all night just to make each other laugh.
“Mamma-mia!”