Archive of Our Own

“Knock kno-ock!” Louis looked up at the sound of Ayda’s altogether too chipper voice outside his office door, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he nodded his head at her. He glanced at the time on his computer’s clock, hoping whatever it was that she wanted wouldn’t eat into the last of his workday.

“Come in, s’alright,” he said as she hesitated in his doorway. “Do they need me in the accounting meeting after all, or?”

She shook her head, the tiny jingle bell earrings she was wearing tinkling with the motion. “Oh, no no, not at all. This is a personal mission.” Louis pursed his lips, inhaling quietly as he clenched and unclenched his fist under his desk. This was definitely going to eat into his workday and keep him later than he wanted. He raised his brows at her, nodding for her to continue as she stared back at him expectantly.

“Please tell me, Ayda,” he said after a long beat of silence. She clearly wouldn’t get on with anything until she had absolutely clear verbal confirmation from him. He forced himself to hold back a tired sigh.

“Well! We’re having the Christmas party in a couple of weeks, and I noticed that you RSVPed as a single pringle!” Ayda pouted at him with an exaggerated scrunch of her brow. “And I just thought-- Louis canNOT come to that party alone! He’s too handsome.” She tapped his desk gently. “You’re too handsome!”

“That’s really sweet, love, but I don’t mind going it alone. Won’t be the first year that it’s just me! Sometimes I bring one of me sisters if they’re free, but they’re not this year.”

“Ohh, come on! Let me set you up! I have so many friends who would just love to meet you and spend the party getting to know you. I mean, you! Without a special somebody!” She shook her head, the bell earrings tinkling again, and Louis wondered if he was doing as good of a job as he hoped he was at hiding his annoyance. As it stood he was imagining her being picked up and carried out of the room by security guards and told never to bother him again unless it was business related.

He realized after a moment that she was still talking and he’d simply begun to tune her out. There was only one way out of this. “Actually, Ayda, I do have a boyfriend. Lovely lad, but he just can’t make it to an afternoon party.” He shook his head ruefully, stealing a glance at his clock. She’d wasted ten minutes of his day already. “What can you do?” With a shrug and a sigh, he sent her on her way, grateful that she hadn’t asked for pictures or proof of any kind, as he had none to offer.

Less than a week later, his little lie came back to slap him right in the face in the form of another visit from Ayda.

“Louis, I have the best news!” She didn’t knock this time, just walking through his open door with her bright blue Hanukkah sweater to announce her presence via the flashing lights on the dreidels it featured. “The party needed to be changed around a bit, and instead of a new day, I was able to get them to make it an evening thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll be great,” he said, his attention still focused on the spreadsheet in front of him as she sat down in the chair opposite him. “Is there something else?”

“No! It just means I’ll get to meet your boyfriend!”

Louis looked up abruptly, taking in her massive grin, and cleared his throat gently, trying to remain calm. “He might not make it, you know. No promises.” Her face fell, that strangely over-the-top pout she’d put on last time making another appearance.

“Oh, but I’ve told a few people and they said you never bring anyone around! We were all really looking forward to meeting the person who could hold your attention more than work.” Louis shook his head politely, not wanting to be rude, but also in complete disbelief that any of his co-workers could be so invested in his love life. “Just promise you’ll ask him? And maybe if he doesn’t come through you could let me do a little platonic set up? I have a brother who is a complete riot! My friends call him Male Ayda. You would love him.”

He was at a loss for words, unable to do more than exhale and shrug, nodding his head in a way that was slight enough that he hoped it could be interpreted as a yes and a no simultaneously.

“Okay, THAT is a yes!” Ayda said, pointing at him and smiling. “Let me know about the boyfriend so I can get my brother ready for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him tonight, love. I’m sure he’ll be able to come.”

Louis left Liam a voicemail on his way out of work, and was relieved when he saw Liam’s face pop up on his mobile screen as he was walking home from the tube. He launched into his problem almost immediately.

“Did you listen to my message? Can you even fuckin’ believe Ayda? ‘Ve told ya about her, yeah? Transferred from the New York offices and thought we were best friends after one lunch together?”

“Hello to you, too, Louis. Well, it was leg day so I’m quite sore, but other than that I’m having a great day,” Liam said, his tone light and teasing. Louis was not in the mood for it.

“Oi Lima, I’ve got a problem! It’s not as though I didn’t tell you it was urgent in me message. Can you just--”

Liam’s laughter cut Louis off short. “Sorry, Tommo, sorry, it’s just too easy when you’re upset already. Go on, give me the rundown. You’re on speaker.”

Louis began to explain as he entered his building, tapping his fob at the door and holding it open to let in a tall man carrying two sacks absolutely stuffed with groceries. “Right, well Ayda comes in last week talking about the Christmas party, and asking why I didn’t have a plus one. She called me a ‘single pringle,’ Lime.” Louis hears the man he let into the building chuckle and lowers his voice a bit as they move to stand in front of the lift.

“Anyway, I told her I had a boyfriend, and that he just couldn’t make an afternoon party that day, yeah? So she finds a way to change it to the evening! And when I said he might not make it then, she-- don’t laugh at this or I swear I’ll hang up, lad --she offered a set up with her brother, who she said is just like her.” Liam’s laugh was loud enough that Louis needed to pull the phone away from his ear quickly. Louis stabbed at the screen with his finger, disconnecting the call but wishing he’d been able to have the satisfaction of properly slamming the phone down.

The lift arrived just as Liam tried to call back, and Louis rejected his call, huffing as he shoved his mobile into his pocket. He’d ring Liam once he was inside his flat and able to open a beer and settle a bit. He was too annoyed at everything now to consider anything else.

“What floor?” The man with his arms full of groceries had his elbow angled to press the buttons, and Louis bit back a smile.

“I’ll push it, mate. You look like you’ve got more than enough to contend with.” The man gave a slight nod and smiled back at Louis, stepping away from the buttons inside the lift.

“I’m on eight,” he said. Louis pushed it for him and pressed his own floor, nine, then stepped away, staring forward as proper lift etiquette dictated. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” the man said as they passed the second floor, “when you were talking to your friend? About the Christmas party?”

Louis turned to the man, eyeing him closely. He didn’t look like a creep or a serial killer. Or, well, maybe he did look a bit like a serial killer, since they could be handsome and charming and this man was, in fact, handsome and charming. He had sparkly green eyes and a dimple and a few little curls sticking out from under his beanie. Hopefully if he was thinking of killing Louis he wasn’t going to do it now, with his arms full of groceries. “What about it?”

“It, um, well, sounded like a bit of an odd situation, and I was wondering if, umm,” the door opened at the fourth floor, and a mum and a toddler looked in expectantly.

“Going up,” Louis said, the doors closing as the mum thanked him. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to an office Christmas party, ‘s the thing. I know it’s probably not like in the movies, where the boss dresses as Santa and someone makes copies of their arse, but if you, um, needed someone. I could go with you?” The man’s cheeks were pink as he exhaled dramatically, rolling his eyes. “God, nevermind, I’ve just realized I’ll have died of embarrassment before then,” he said quietly. The lift doors opened again, and Louis noticed they’d arrived at the eighth floor. The man made a quick exit, and Louis flung his hand up to stop the door from closing.

“Wait!” The man turned around at the sound of Louis’ voice, his eyes wide. He shifted one of his grocery sacks, the movement throwing his bags off balance enough that they both toppled out of his hands one after the other. Though it felt as though it was happening in slow motion, it was still too fast for Louis to do anything other than watch in horror. The door started to close on him, and he stepped out of the lift quickly, bending down to help the man collect his spilled groceries. “Sorry, I was going to ask your name.”

“Oh. Harry. And you’re?”

“Louis.” He picked up a bag of lemons and handed them over to Harry. “I can help you carry all of this, if you’d like. Which one are you?”

“C, right there,” Harry nodded just a couple of doors down, and Louis breathed a silent sigh of relief that he wasn’t in G, the apartment beneath Louis’. That particular neighbor played saxophone and would practice at odd hours (though seemingly any time that Louis felt like taking a nap). It wouldn’t have been an ideal match. Not that that’s what this was. This was just...being friendly. “Thanks for the help.”

“It’s no trouble. Especially if-- were you serious? You’d want to come to my office holiday party? Even if it’s as my fake boyfriend?” Harry opened the door to his flat, letting Louis follow him inside. It looked normal, maybe even a bit more stylish than most flats belonging to men Louis’ age. And. Shit, maybe Harry wasn’t a serial killer but was someone much younger than Louis. Or older? Louis was trying to think of a way he could ask about it without seeming too odd when Harry responded.

“God, I’m sorry, I know it was weird. I’ve only just moved down to London from Manchester, and I haven’t met a lot of people yet. And you’re fi--um, interesting. Going by your conversation.” Harry giggled and shook his head. “I’m cocking this up. Um. Maybe this’ll be less weird if you stay for dinner? I can cook for you, we can get to know each other a bit.” He worried at his lip as he waited for Louis to respond, his eyes wide and sparkling and one of his errant curls clinging adorably to his cheek.

“Yes,” Louis blurted out before giving himself time to overthink. “I was planning on questionable leftovers, so dinner might actually be nice.” Harry’s answering smile was enough to make him feel as though he’d made the right decision.

It was only when he was leaving a couple hours later that he remembered he’d never called Liam back. He rang him from the lift.

“Louis, you’re a right dick. I was only teasing, and you put me off for hours. I wanted to hear the rest of it, mate! Do you have a plan? I could probably ask one of the other trainers if they’d be willing to go with you. I think Martin’s bi...and-”

“S’alright, Liam! I actually think I found someone?” It sounded unbelievable even to Louis, but he really had.

Liam laughed at him again, a quick burst that he quickly tried to cover with a cough. “Did you go out to a pub? Or get tinder or something?” Louis shuddered at the thought of either of those things.

“No, it’s weird, so this bloke was coming into the building the same time as me, and I guess he heard what I was telling you. And then he offered to be my date. I mean, not a real date. A, um, a fake one. Boyfriend, I mean.” Louis could practically hear Liam’s shock reverberating through the silence from his end of the line. “C’mon, I’m not that awful!”

“No, no. No, Louis. You’re great, it’s just. You accepted? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

So maybe Louis had a tendency to overthink things and to come up with twenty possible worst case scenarios for any situation that arose. And maybe he hadn’t really dated since his last serious boyfriend a couple of years ago. But he could still be fun and surprising.

“I’m still fun and surprising, Lima. Tommo the Tease didn’t die when I turned 25.” Even as he said it, he knew it was kind of a lie. But he also knew Liam wouldn’t push back against it.

“Course not, mate,” Liam said after clearing his throat lightly. “Wouldn’t say that at all.” He paused for a moment, a faint tapping noise as though he was writing a text just barely audible as Louis waited for him to continue speaking. “So. Tell me about him! Your best friend should know all about your new boyfriend, even if he’s entirely fake.”

Louis hadn’t learned too much, really. Harry was 28, just a couple of years younger than Louis, and he’d moved from Manchester to London in the summer to take a job as staff photographer for a magazine based out of London. He liked to bake in his free time, and hadn’t really found many friends beyond the few he’d met through his sister, who lived nearby. But she was straight, as were most of her friends, and Harry was most definitely not. And like Louis, he hated the club scene and really only went out when he felt the need to dance, not to pull for the night.

He told Liam everything, a little charge of energy blasting off in his chest as he relayed the information. Though he knew Harry wasn’t really interested in him, it didn’t stop him from having enjoyed the attention and conversation. Fortunately Liam approved.

“When can I meet him, then? Shouldn’t I be able to sign off on this new boyfriend?”

“He’s not a real boyfriend, Lime! Get it straight.”

“But he’s not straight! And neither are you. So who knows, maybe you’ll be boyfriends before it’s all over with?” Louis could practically feel him waggling his eyebrows.

“That was awful. And for the record, gay men don’t automatically sleep with one another.”

“You do remember I’m gay. Right, Louis? And that I’ve been friends with you for fifteen years without ever trying to sleep with you?”

“Learn to take a joke, lad!” Louis teased. He smiled when he heard Liam’s bubbly laugh. “I’ve gotta go. Harry lives on the floor beneath me, so I’m sure you’ll meet him next time you’re over.”

“You never invite me over, though! You always come to mine because my telly’s nicer.”

“Hm, you’re right. Too bad, that.” Louis could hear Liam starting to protest, and he shut him down immediately. “Night, lad. You’ve got an early morning of torturing people ahead of you. Better rest up!” Liam said goodnight as well and they both rung off the call, Louis finding several texts waiting for him.

There were two from Zayn, Liam’s longtime boyfriend and a good friend of Louis’, and three from Lottie, Louis’ sister. They all said some variation of the same thing: “There’s no such thing as a fake boyfriend” and “when do we get to meet him?” Louis quietly cursed Liam and decided to hold off on texting Zayn or Lottie until the following day. They could wait.

There was one more text waiting for him, this one from Harry. It didn’t say more than, “had fun tonight, xo (this is Harry),” but it made Louis smile nonetheless. He saved the number before tapping back a quick reply. “Same here. See you again soon? xo (Louis).” He only thought about the fact that of course Harry knew it was him after the fact, but he decided to let it go. It was still a lovely way to end the night, he thought.

The sound of “Voulez Vous” by ABBA-- Louis’ alarm tone --would normally make him grumpy on its first go around, but when he woke the next morning he found it didn’t have its usual effect. Instead it made him smile a bit, and he even let it play through an extra time before shutting it off to give himself a few more minutes of rest. Even then, he found he didn’t really want to sleep anymore, choosing instead to take a look at his phone on the off chance that Harry had texted him overnight. He was not disappointed.

Harry: Would love to see you again. Is tonight too soon?
Harry: Thought it would be good to develop a plausible boyfriend story
Harry: I can cook again if you’d like
Harry: Shit! Just occurred to me that it’s the middle of the night. Hope these texts haven’t been bothering you

He sent a bitmoji of himself looking embarrassed with “OOPS” underneath it, and Louis found himself giggling at it though he’d always said he found bitmojis weird and off-putting. Harry’s was kind of cute.

Louis: Hi, good morning, hello. No need to be embarrassed! Phone goes on silent when I’m trying to sleep so I didn’t hear a thing
Louis: Dinner would be great. I make a great bottle of wine or Thai takeaway from the place round the corner if you’d like
Harry: Bring a red maybe? Around half 7?

Louis texted back a thumbs up emoji and got up to actually start his day, whistling “Voulez-Vous” on his way to the shower.

They ended up texting back and forth throughout the day. It started with Harry asking questions about dinner and slowly evolved into sharing tidbits about their days. Just before lunch, Louis described Ayda’s outfit: a red and white sweater dress with the words “Fa La La La Llama” over a picture of a llama in a Santa hat, complete with a 3D pom pom. Harry texted back asking for pictures, and Louis spent nearly half an hour after lunch trying to find a way to snap one without looking like a complete creep. It was worth it when Harry sent back a bitmoji of himself dressed as a seal inside a “seal of approval” because-- quote, “one good animal pun deserves another.”

It was almost 5 o’clock when Ayda tapped out “Jingle Bells” with a knock at Louis’ door. “Hi, Louis! I know you’re probably sick of me bothering you about it, but I came to check on Operation Bring Your Boyfriend to the Party! How’s it going?” She sat down, resting her elbow on his desk and then propping her chin in her hand.

Louis looked up from his phone, where he’d been reading a text from Harry about something funny that had happened at the shoot he was on earlier. He bit back a smile. “Good news, actually. He’s confirmed that he’ll be there.” He glanced back down at his phone and giggled at what Harry had sent him. It was just a photo of a mostly empty coffee mug, but it went along with the story Harry had been telling him.

“Ooh, is that a text from him?” Ayda craned her neck, trying to catch a look at Louis’ screen. “Can I see pictures? What does he look like?” When Louis moved his mobile away from Ayda’s prying eyes, she took the hint and sat back in her chair. “I can’t believe I haven’t asked about him! You probably think I’m a terrible friend.”

Louis looked up at her with a small half-smile. He thought of Harry telling him about being new in town, and realized it must be that much worse for Ayda, since she’d moved all the way from New York. Maybe Louis was the work friend she told stories about or mentioned to friends back home. “No, Ayda. Not at all. I keep the personal stuff pretty distant from my work life, so I thought you were just being polite.” She visibly relaxed and Louis smiled. “But maybe I could be convinced to share a bit tomorrow.” He winked, and she gave him a little laugh in return.

“Okay! The gossip train is finally coming into my station!” She stood up and clapped her hands together, her head bopping from side to side as though she was a happy little human metronome. Louis held in a giggle as he waved her out of his office, and then immediately picked up his phone to text Harry about the exchange.

They took a short break from texting one another while Louis got home and changed from work clothes into something a little more comfortable before going down to Harry’s flat for dinner. He debated whether or not to dress as though it was a date, finally giving in and calling his sister for advice. She teased him for a bit, of course. But in the end she told him to wear one of the track suits she’d gotten him, hitting the mark between comfortable and trendy, but not really venturing into overly tight or stuffy date wear. After promising to text her with news of how dinner went, Louis took the stairs down to Harry’s and knocked at the door.

Harry’s hair was down, and he was wearing a pair of soft, flowy trousers with a black t-shirt on top, looking neither too fancy nor as though he was ready for bed. Louis breathed a small sigh of relief. “Hey, come in, it’s just about ready,” Harry said, letting Louis in and then shutting the door behind him. “Things didn’t go quite to plan, so we’re having a deconstructed lasagna. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Last night’s questionable leftovers would have been tonight’s even more questionable leftovers, so fresh lasagna is more than a few steps up, love,” Louis said, setting the bottle of wine he’d brought on the counter. “And it smells amazing, really. Can I set the table or summat?” Harry nodded, and Louis busied himself with finding all the proper plates and utensils, asking Harry what he’d done after they’d stopped chatting earlier.

“Stayed a bit late on the shoot, trying to do something unusual. Not sure how it’ll go over, but I think it might turn out great.”

“Fingers crossed!” Louis opened a drawer and dug around for a wine opener, only half paying attention to what he was doing. “What sort of--” before he could finish asking Harry more about the shoot, he felt a hand on his waist and the warmth of Harry next to him. He turned, breath catching in his throat, and locked eyes with Harry, who stared back at him wide-eyed. They stayed like that for a moment, neither of them moving, until Harry cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” he said, backing away quickly. “It’s here, the opener.” He set it on the counter in front of Louis and turned away quickly, though not fast enough that Louis could miss a bit of warm blush rising up his neck.

“Thanks,” Louis said, taking the wine bottle to the table to open it up and give himself a bit of space to question what had just happened. Part of him wanted to pull out his phone and text Zayn or Liam for advice, but he knew they’d just say that of course Harry was into him and he should ‘go for it’ while the window was still open. He shook his head, annoyed with himself and with the imaginary response of his friends. “Fucking gay cliche,” he whispered.

“What’s that?” He turned around to find Harry right behind him, possibly having heard his own quietly spoken thoughts. Fuck.

“Me. I’m a, um, gay cliche.” Harry’s next question would be how or why, and Louis definitely didn’t have an answer. He silently cursed himself.

“How?” Harry’s expression was genuinely curious, and Louis took a deep breath, trying to force himself to remember every gay cliche he’d ever encountered. He went with the first one that sprung to his mind.

“Britney Spears!” Louis pulled his phone out, opening up his music and scrolling down to his guilty pleasures playlist (titled “gaylist,” which is possibly why it had come to his mind first) to click play, the first track coming through his phone speaker a bit too loudly. He thumbed the volume down, bobbing his head to the music. “Just really got the urge to listen to her. Hope you don’t mind.”

Harry grinned back at him. “I love her. Guess I’m a gay cliche too, hm?”

“That’s the two of us, then.” Louis couldn’t help but smile back, watching as Harry moved his hips to the music. And maybe it was that he hadn’t heard “Oops! I Did It Again” in a while, but he felt the urge to dance himself. He set his phone down on the table and started moving, letting himself get closer to Harry with every line in the song until they were dancing within reach of one another. From there, it was easy enough to put his hands on Harry’s hips and for Harry to return the gesture. They didn’t make eye contact at first-- or at least Louis didn’t try to --but as they inched closer, the two of them looked at one another all at once and then neither wanted to look away.

They were both grinning like idiots when the song ended, and Harry giggled, pulling Louis into a tight hug and then letting him go almost as quickly. “Thanks for the dance, Lou. S’been a long time since I’ve danced with anyone.” He ducked his head and one of his curls fell over his forehead. It made Louis want to sweep it away with gentle fingers.

“There’s dancing at the party,” Louis said instead, taking a step back from Harry. “Nothing much, but we usually have a DJ. They play holiday music, mostly.” He looked down for a moment, debating whether or not he should give away one of his least cool secrets, and then he realized he’d just danced to a Britney song with Harry. This would be about on par. “They start and end with “All I Want for Christmas is You,” and the whole office goes mad on the second play. Most of us are pretty pissed by the end, and, well, I might’ve made up a dance a few years ago that everyone still does.”

Harry shoved at Louis playfully. “Thank God you didn’t hold out on that, Lou! I need to learn that dance.”

“I can teach you after dinner, if you’d like?”

“Yes. Please.” Harry picked up Louis’ phone from the table and plugged it into a nearby speaker that he had, quickly adjusting the volume so that the song that was playing (Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time”) was perfect background music for them to eat by. “We’ve got a backstory to discuss, anyway.”

They hashed out a lot of details over dinner, trying to keep everything as simple and close to the truth as possible. The relationship, they decided, was still new. They’d met when Harry was moving in a few months ago and dated one another casually for a while before deciding to get more serious. They still weren’t living together, but they were planning on spending holidays with both of their families.

“Will they think it’s weird you haven’t mentioned me yet?” Harry asked as he poured the last of the wine into his and Louis’ glasses. “Like, have you talked about other guys you’ve dated?”

Louis took a sip of water, buying himself a moment’s time. The truth was that he hadn’t actually dated anyone since Graham, his last serious boyfriend. And they’d broken up over two years ago, maybe close to three if he really thought about it. He’d had a few dates since then and as many hook-ups as he’d wanted, but no casual boyfriends or long term romances.

“It’s not come up, I suppose.” It wasn’t quite a lie, though it wasn’t the truth either. “I’ve been bringing my sisters to the party for the past few years, and the person I was with when I started at the company never wanted to go with me. He always said office parties were a bunch of fake shit.”

“Dick,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“Graham, actually. But yeah, he was a total dick.”

Harry giggled into his wine glass. “When did you two break up?”

Louis sighed. “Guess it’ll be three years at Christmas. Time flies, y’know.”

“Shit. He broke up with you at Christmas?” Harry shook his head sadly. “Really should be called Dick.”

“Yeah, it was more than a bit shit, honestly.” The whole story-- that he’d broken up with Louis the day before his birthday, via text message, from a holiday in France that he’d decided to go on with his family at the last minute and had not invited Louis to --was a lot more than a bit shit. But it wasn’t really first real fake date with your not-boyfriend conversation material, was it?

“Well, I’m going to blow Dick out of the water for Christmas.” Harry raised his glass, and Louis clinked his own with it, taking in Harry’s rosy cheeks and slightly glazed eyes.

“Harold,” Louis teased, “are you a lightweight, young man?”

“M’not. I’ve had more than you, s’all.” He put his chin in his hand and blinked at Louis, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You’ve had one and a half. I’ve had,” he waved his free hand at the bottle, “all the rest.”

“Fair, fair.” Louis nudged at Harry’s foot with his own. “D’you want me to help you to bed, love? Or take care of the dishes for you?”

“Come sit with me,” Harry said, standing up and stretching. “Watch a bad Christmas movie. S’early still.” It was pretty early, Louis realized. Barely 9 o’clock.

“Alright. But only if you’ve got ice cream.”

Harry groaned, his expression turning from a lazy smile to a frustrated pout. “I haven’t,” he whined. Louis decided to take pity on him.

“Come on, then. We’re taking a little trip upstairs.” They rode the lift up to Louis’ flat, Louis settling Harry onto the couch when they got there so he could gather up a couple tubs of ice cream from his fridge and spoons for the both of them. He got back and found Harry texting, his tongue peeking out from his mouth as he typed. He gave him a friendly little jab in the arm with a spoon as he sat. “Who’re you texting?”

“My sister. Promised I’d tell her how it went when dinner was over.” Louis tried to sneak a look at the screen to read what Harry was typing, Harry angling the phone away from him carefully.

He laughed, remembering he’d promised Lottie he’d do the very same thing. “Well? How’d it go?”

“It was fun,” Harry said, a little smile on his lips. He turned and looked Louis in the eyes. “You’re very lovely.”

Louis returned Harry’s smile and his gaze. “I can say the same of you, Haz. And I will, actually. Told my sister I’d text her as well.” Harry giggled at that, and Louis turned on the telly, quickly finding a silly Christmas rom-com on netflix and starting it up as he dug into his ice cream. The story was predictable and saccharine and exactly the sort of thing Louis pretended not to like but secretly loved. Harry, on the other hand, was unabashedly a fan, reacting to the storyline as if he didn’t know what was going to happen at each moment.

When it was finally over, the credits playing over a knock-off Christmas tune, Harry leaned back and sighed contentedly, giving Louis a pat on the leg. “Thanks for indulging me. That’s one of my favorites.”

“You’ve seen it before?” Louis turned to look at Harry, taking in his easy smile. He clearly wasn’t lying.

“Loads of times. Think my favorite part is when they meet on the lift near the end and get stuck again, and you know they’re about to end up together but they’re still trying to fight it a bit.”

Louis couldn’t help the fond smile that came to his face. “Can’t believe you admitted to having a favorite terrible Christmas movie.”

“C’mon, you’ve got to have one too! You were laughing along with me, and when they shared their first Christmas kiss I heard you sigh.” Harry poked at Louis’ ribs, and Louis wriggled away from him. “So. What’s yours?”

The thing is, he did have a favorite. It was the one where a woman finds out she’s related to Santa and her grumpy next door neighbor, a widower with a precocious daughter, ends up helping her deliver toys, falling in love and finding the spirit of Christmas in the process. It was absolutely awful. And Louis had never told anyone that he’d watched it even once, let alone the four times he’d actually seen it. But Harry was looking at him so earnestly, waiting for his answer. He finally broke. “Auntie Santa,” he said, rushing the words out so they almost blurred together.

“I’ve never seen that one! Maybe we could watch it together? Tomorrow?” It must’ve been unintentional, but Harry batted his eyelashes and gave Louis a half smile that brought out his dimple.

“Come up at 8. I’ve got a late meeting tomorrow night.” He paused, debating whether or not he really wanted to divulge another piece of information. Harry would find out tomorrow anyway. “The movie isn’t really available anywhere, but I actually own it, so we’ll need to watch up here.”

“I’ll bring takeaway.”

Louis nodded, following behind Harry as he headed toward the door. As Louis moved to unlock it, Harry turned around to say goodbye, the two of them nearly bumping into one another. Louis looked up at Harry, and Harry down at Louis, a thread of tension between them as if they both had something to say but weren’t saying it. Louis wet his lips, and though he couldn’t be certain, he thought that maybe Harry had watched him and held his breath, and for just a moment he thought that perhaps, possibly, it just might be a good idea to kiss him?

But then Harry was clearing his throat, wheeling around to face the door and laughing quietly to himself, allowing Louis to open it the rest of the way. “Night, Lou. Looking forward to tomorrow.”

Louis held his arms open just a bit before Harry could walk away. “Can’t leave without givin’ me a cuddle, can you?” Harry bit his lip and shrugged, sheepish and blushing.

“Don’t suppose I can,” he said, wrapping his arms around Louis and squeezing him close. He was warm, and smelled faintly of basil and garlic and musk, and if Louis had ever wondered what getting a hug from a lasagna would feel like, he thought this might be it. Though a lot less wet. He giggled at the thought, and felt a huff of breath at his ear. “What’s so funny, then?”

“You smell like what you were cooking earlier, and I thought this hug might be a bit like getting one from a lasagna.” Louis admitted it easily, though after the words had left his mouth he realized how ridiculous he sounded. Fortunately Harry just laughed with him, hugging him a bit tighter before finally letting go.

“Tomorrow I’ll try to smell like a different food,” Harry said as he started off down the hallway. “You’ll have to guess which one.”

Louis shut his door, checking the time before sending a quick text to Lottie and a slightly longer one to Liam and Zayn. He doubted he’d get a response before morning, but he needed one enough that it was worth the wait.

He didn’t wake up to a message. Instead he got a call from Zayn mid-morning. It wasn’t even on his mobile-- Zayn called his work phone directly, knowing he’d easily get Louis on the first ring.

“Lou-ehh, I need more details than that, babes. You can’t send a text like that and expect an easy text back, you know that, right?”

Louis took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to decide how freely he could talk with Zayn at work. “Hold on a minute, love.” He closed his door and picked his phone back up, ready to talk. “What more do you need to know?”

“Um, ev’rything? You’ve met this Harry on the lift, he offered to be your fake boyfriend for your office Christmas party, and now you’re wanting to ask him out on a proper date?”

“To my Christmas party, yes,” Louis said, not really sure why Zayn needed that fact to be clarified.

“He’s already your date.” Louis could hear Zayn exhaling as he smoked, and he pictured him on his balcony, still a bit sleep rumpled and having his first fag and coffee of the morning, reading his texts and calling Louis right away. “I don’t see the problem, s’all.”

“He’s not my actual date. He’s pretending. A fake boyfriend.” Louis looked up and noticed Ayda walking by, and he lowered his voice to just above a whisper in spite of his closed door. “And he told me he’s new in town and looking for friends. I’d be fine with that, if it’s all he’s looking for. But he’s pretty great, and after last night went so well I thought maybe I could ask him out.”

“Yeah, so ask him out.” Zayn’s exhale this time was more rushed, like he was annoyed with needing to take the time to rid his lungs of the smoke. “Tell him you’d like him to be a date and not a boyfriend.”

There was no way it could be that easy. “I think you’ve been out of the dating pool for too long, Zaynie. I don’t want to scare him off or summat.”

“Scare him? Lou, have you looked at yourself, babes? You’re a fucking catch, yeah? I was flirting with you before I saw Liam, remember.”

Louis laughed. “You always bring that up as if our five minutes of flirting can hold a candle to your seven year relationship with Li.” It really was one of Zayn’s favorite things to say when Louis was a bit down on himself, and it never failed to make Louis grin.

“He’s going to be into you and he’ll be super excited when you ask him to be your actual date to the party. Promise.” Zayn sounded so confident. Louis wanted to take a bit of it and put it in his pocket for later with Harry. “Call me after he’s said yes, ‘kay?”

“Alright, I will.” Tonight. Louis would definitely ask Harry later tonight.

He did not, in fact, ask Harry to be his actual date and not his fake boyfriend that night. Instead they watched the movie on Louis’ couch, sitting close enough that Louis could feel the possibility of Harry touching him all evening without their skin ever really brushing. They shared takeaway, but one of the dishes had pineapple in it and Louis was allergic, so they rarely even ate from the same container. At the end of the night, they hugged again, Harry asking Louis what he smelled like tonight, and Louis answered honestly that he smelled like tea and curry and something vaguely chemical. It wasn’t really the best response, but Harry laughed and explained he’d been developing photos all day and hadn’t showered before coming over.

It didn’t really leave Louis space to ask Harry to be his actual date, anyway. So he just planned to do it the following night. And the night after that. And then, well, before he realized it, it was the day of the party.

He’d seen Harry every night since they met on the lift. In addition to their two movie nights, they’d also gone out to a pub together and spent an evening going between their two apartments, trying on outfits to decide what would work best for the party. That should’ve been the perfect time to ask Harry out properly, if not for the party then maybe for after the party.

But in the end, Louis couldn’t do it. He’d started out worried that Harry might be a creep or a serial killer and had slowly started to feel like he was the creep, even though he knew that wasn’t the case. He and Harry were enjoying spending time with each other-- it was totally mutual, and they’d actually discussed it while they were out at the pub.

The problem was that Louis couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just imagining the tension he felt with Harry. And at this point it was too late to ask his friends to come ‘round and give a second opinion. As he gave himself a final once over in the mirror, checking the line of his suit and fixing his fringe for what he hoped was the last time, he considered his options: he could just come out and tell Harry what he’d been thinking about for the past few days, getting it out into the open instead of stewing on it any longer, or he could wait, attend the party with Harry, and see if anything felt different after their evening of pretending. The sound of Harry knocking at his door ended his dithering.

“S’open!” Louis heard the door open and close as he slipped his shoes on. He did look good, really. Maybe even good enough that Harry would want to be the one to ask him out on a proper date. And then he saw Harry.

It wasn’t that Harry looked good-- he did, of course--but that he was dressed like a sparkling, gorgeous, perfect little present, complete with a bow. Louis could barely manage to utter more than a single, whispered, “wow,” as he took in the sight. His shirt was gold and shimmery, probably see through in certain light, with a long bow tied just so at the neck, and his trousers were black and beautifully cut for his lean figure. His curls were artfully messy, and as if he was setting out to prove it, Harry ran one of his hands through them as he looked down, not meeting Louis’ eyes. Even his nails were painted, the pearlescent polish glinting in the light.

“You didn’t show me that outfit the other night,” Louis finally managed to say, his voice tighter than he wanted. He cleared his throat and gave Harry a real once over, eyeing him from head to toe. “It’s a lot of look. Suits you.”

Harry blushed. “I knew I was going to wear it, but I wanted it to be a surprise. Just thought you might appreciate it.”

“Oh, I do.” Louis raised his brows at Harry, who smiled back at him, wrinkling his nose happily.

“You look pretty amazing yourself. Don’t think I saw those trousers, did I?” Harry looked down at Louis’ legs and Louis did a slow turn for him. He hadn’t brought out these trousers, in part because he worried they might not fit him any longer, but also because he considered them something of a secret weapon. They really did make his already pretty lovely bum look positively spectacular, if his friends and sister were to be believed.

“Completely forgot about them. But they’re not half bad, yeah?”

“Yeah. Or, no. They’re not. They’re really good, actually.” Harry worried at his lip. “Should we, umm?” He nodded toward the door, and Louis led him out with a gentle hand on his lower back.

Louis’ phone buzzed in his pocket as they reached the lift, and he pulled it out to find a text from Zayn: “Haven’t heard from u. Did you ditch the fake boyfriend act yet?” He thumbed the message away, looking up to check that Harry hadn’t noticed, and was relieved to find him staring intently at the numbers lighting up to indicate which floor the lift was on.

The doors opened in front of them with a ding, and Harry stepped in, pressing the button for the lobby before Louis could even step in. “Eager.” Louis smirked at Harry, who looked down and shrugged lightly.

“Maybe a bit, yeah. Do you mind it?”

“No, no. Not at all, love. I know you’ve been dying to get to an office Christmas party. I just hope this one delivers.”

Harry looked at Louis as the doors slid open to let them out. “Hope so,” he said. For a moment, it seemed as though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but then he chuckled to himself and the moment passed. “C’mon, Lou. Wanna watch a bunch of people I don’t know get embarrassingly drunk while we gorge on sweets.”

The party was being held at a posh bar not far from Louis’ work. They’d managed to rent out the whole place, and Ayda had spent the better part of Friday shuttling decorations from the office to the venue and double checking that everyone was coming. When Louis and Harry arrived it was obvious that her work had paid off. The whole place was strung with fairy lights and festive banners from top to bottom, and Louis’ co-workers and their guests were already crowding around the bar and the buffet as holiday music played through the bar’s speakers. The bartenders were all wearing Santa hats, and a cocktail menu above the bar listed off a variety of holiday themed drinks.

“Get you a drink, love?” Louis leaned in so Harry could hear him, his cheek brushing against Harry’s and sending a little thrill through him.

“Can’t believe I have to say this, but...can you get me a Kiss Under the Mistletoe?” Harry blushed as he said it.

Louis bit back a giggle and nodded, leaving Harry at a table on the upper level as he made his way back to the downstairs bar. As he was walking away, Louis glanced back and saw Harry watching the crowd below with his chin in his hand and a wistful look on his face. It was enough to make him imagine turning around right there and just telling Harry that he wanted this to be real, that he wanted to give him an actual kiss under the mistletoe and not just a silly cocktail. And maybe he was about to do it when he heard Ayda’s voice right behind him.

“Louis! You’re heeere!” She held her arms out for a hug and Louis took a moment to admire her outfit. She was clearly going for high fashion elf, and she did not miss the mark at all. She had points affixed to the tips of her ears, and her eyes looked bright and extra wide, even with the low lighting of the bar. Her dress was green and shiny, completely covered in sequins and a few tiny jingle bells, fiting her snugly at the waist and flaring a bit at the hips. Her shoes curved up into little points, again with bells attached to the ends.

“You have really outdone yourself, Ayda,” Louis said, wrapping her up in a hug. After he’d started thinking about how much she seemed to like him and given her another shot, she’d really grown on him. She was a lot, yes, but she seemed to know it and not back away from it, and he couldn’t say he minded that in a person. “Takin’ your true form and all that. Knew you were an elf this whole time.”

She laughed at him, giving him a playful slap on the arm. “I AM! An absolute holiday elf. You know I was raised Jewish? I still celebrate Hanukkah of course but my husband loves Christmas so much that I fell in love with it too.” She paused dramatically, giving Louis a hard look in the eye. “Speaking of love. Where is the boyfriend?” She looked around as though trying to suss out who it could be.

“He’s up there,” Louis nodded up to where Harry was sat, still staring at the crowd with a little smile on his lips. Harry looked down at him then and Louis felt himself beaming back as Harry raised his hand in a small wave.

“Oh, LOUIS! He is a dreamboat. I need to go meet him. Can I go meet him?” Ayda was already making her way up the stairs before Louis could even respond, so he looked at Harry again and shrugged as he nodded toward her, hoping his gestures made any sense at all. By the time he’d fought his way to the bar and escaped with drinks in hand, he almost feared Harry had left. Instead he found him sharing the table with Ayda upon his return, the two of them chatting away.

He handed Harry his drink, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before whispering, “Kiss Under the Mistletoe, like you asked for,” lowly in his ear. He didn’t watch for Harry’s reaction, worried that he wouldn’t like what he saw. Instead he took a seat and looked at Ayda. “Alright, you two’ve been at it for a while. What’ve I missed?”

“Only me finding out that your boyfriend is an absolute gem!” Ayda smiled brightly as Harry looked down, shaking his head. “Oh gosh, he’s so modest, but honestly! A photographer who bakes and likes to dance who also happens to be madly in love with you?” She patted Louis’ arm. “You’re both such lucky boys!”

Before they could keep talking, Ayda was called away for something her assistant called a “buffet emergency,” leaving Louis and Harry alone at the table with their drinks and the sound of holiday music drifting up from the dance floor below.

“The drink is good,” Harry said, lifting his glass. “Wasn’t sure about the chocolate vodka, but it actually works with the raspberry liqueur.” He was looking out at the room or down at the table, basically anywhere but Louis. It was unacceptable.

Louis reached out and put his hand over Harry’s. “You really charmed Ayda. She’s the reason I was even talking to Liam that night, you know.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Harry said. He tipped back his drink, swallowing the rest of it in one gulp. “Should we go dance? It’s one of the best worst things about office parties, or so I’ve heard.”

Below them, the DJ started playing the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock,” as Louis checked out the dance floor. It was far from full. “Looks like if we go dance now we’ll pretty much be makin’ idiots of ourselves.” Harry stood quickly.

“That settles it, then. Louis Tomlinson, may I have this incredibly embarrassing Christmas dance?” He held out his hand to Louis, a twinkle in his eye as Louis shook his head and laughed.

“You’re really...alright, alright, yeah,” Louis said, slipping his hand into Harry’s. “Let’s be idiots.”

They missed most of “Jingle Bell Rock,” but they hopped around to “Christmas Wrapping” and started a loud sing-along to “Fairytale of New York” that was joined by a slightly tipsy Ayda, who knew every word of Kirsty MacColl’s part and belted it out at top volume and slightly off-key. Without realizing it, Louis had slotted himself against Harry’s side, his arm wrapped around Harry’s waist and Harry’s draped over his shoulder, fingers gripping a little tighter than they might really need to.

The DJ’s voice came out as the song was dying down. “A bit of a slow one coming up, give the couples a chance to enjoy the fact that your resident party planner--.” Several people yelled Ayda’s name and she whooped loudly for herself. “Miss Ayda Williams! Indeed! Covered your whole dance floor with mistletoe.”

Louis looked up, and sure enough: Ayda had strung lines of mistletoe over the dance floor. He and Harry were under some now. Not far from him, Ayda was doing her best version of an Oprah impression, shouting, “You get a kiss! And YOU get a kiss! Everybody gets a kiss!” Her laughter was covered by the swell of a tinkling piano, and Louis glanced up at Harry.

“We can go back up if you’d like. Don’t have to dance to a slow one.”

“Wha--oh. I wouldn’t mind staying, if you don’t. It’s Joni Mitchell.” Harry nodded vaguely toward the DJ, where the sound of a high, crystalline voice was singing about Christmas.

“Yeah, alright.” Louis turned and opened his arms. Harry stepped into them, wrapping his own around Louis so that they were pressed against one another. They swayed together, the kind of slow dance Louis remembered from dances when he was 13 or so, gentle and easy. But they were much closer than he’d ever gotten to anyone for those dances, so close, in fact, that Louis found himself resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, Harry nuzzling into his hair as they moved.

As the song finished, Louis turned his head so that his nose was brushing against Harry’s neck, inhaling his scent, cinnamon and wood and chocolate, like a Christmas memory. He smiled, eyes closed as the piano tinkled out the last notes of the song and the DJ faded into something else.

A bright flash of light made him open his eyes and pull away from Harry quickly to find Ayda standing with her phone out, smiling at her screen. “That is the most gorgeous picture of the night. No question,” she said, grinning. “And you can’t see it til you kiss! Kiss, kiss, kiss,” she said loudly, nudging the assistant standing next to her to get her started in on the chanting as well.

Louis looked at Harry, giving him a shrug and a small nod. Harry wet his lips and then nodded back, just one small bob of his head. And then everything happened very quickly: their lips met, Harry’s dry but soft against Louis’, fitting together as though they’d done this a thousand times before. The mechanics of it couldn’t have been that different from a million kisses that Louis had taken part in before, but the feelings they incited were worlds away from anything he’d experienced. Louis’ heart raced as he moved his hand across Harry’s jaw, down the line of his neck until he could twine his fingers in the bow at Harry’s collar.

Harry was the one to pull away, breath coming heavy and warm even as they parted, and Louis leaned in to give him one more quick peck, looking down so he wouldn’t have to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Happy, Ayda?” Louis turned to find Ayda smiling back at him, shaking her head.

“Well somebody’s not going to make it to the end of the party! Woo!” She waved her hand at them as if fanning them off. “Seriously you two are the cutest,” she said, giving them both smacking kisses on their cheeks. “But I’ve gotta handle Alan from accounting.” She sighed heavily. “He’s angry that Kevin is dressing as Santa later. Can you believe?” With a shrug of her shoulders, Ayda was off, leaving Louis and Harry on the dance floor. Where they’d just kissed. Louis could hardly bear to look at Harry, too worried that he’d overstepped and upset him.

“Wanna go back?” Louis nodded toward the upstairs and Harry agreed, leading the way to the table they’d left earlier. “I’m sorry about that,” Louis said when they’d finally sat. “Not asking, I mean. It’s not as though you signed up for kissing.”

“Oh. Right, yeah. It was fine, Lou. Really.” Harry cleared his throat and brushed a stray piece of glitter off of Louis’ suit, his hand lingering for a moment. “I’m sorry that you were kind of forced into it. It’s not as though you wanted to, I know.” At that, Louis looked up, hoping to search Harry’s face for clues about how he felt. Had he wanted the kiss? Was it even worth having a proper date with him now?

“I didn’t mind,” Louis said, not finding any answers from Harry. “Kissing a fit bloke? Oh no! Not that, yeah?” He tugged at Harry’s sleeve and Harry looked up at him, smiling but without a spark behind his eyes.

“Right, yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I mean who hasn’t kissed some of their friends before? Not as though it has to mean anythin’.” He sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers against the table. “I’m gonna go hit the buffet line. Bring you a plate back?”

“Sure, yeah, thanks love.” Louis watched Harry walk away and wondered what he’d done wrong. Something, certainly. He’d felt the shift of energy between them, and he pulled out his phone to text his friends.

Louis: Think I might’ve cocked it all up
Zayn: You didn’t ask him for the date?
Louis: No, it just never happened. And then we kissed just now, but Ayda made us do it.
Liam: You kissed! OMG
Zayn: It’s fucked someone made you kiss, what kind of party is this anyway??
Louis: It wasn’t like that.
Louis: We kind of checked in about it in the moment, but then idk
Louis: I just don’t think he likes me
Liam: But you kissed! Do you want to keep kissing him?
Louis: Yeah obviously lime fuck
Zayn: Did you ask him how he felt?
Liam: You should ask him how he feels about you
Liam: Yes babe good advice. We both agree, Lou

“Anything interesting?” Harry asked, sliding a plate in front of Louis as Louis tapped away from his texts and pocketed his mobile.

“Just the lads seeing how things were going.” There was no way Louis was going to ask Harry anything else right now, in the middle of the party. They could have fun as friends and fake dates. “Now, you said something earlier about gorging and laughing at people, right?”

They passed the rest of the night just having a laugh like Louis might have with any of his mates, and both of them seemed keen to avoid the dance floor until it was time for Louis to lead the “All I Want For Christmas Is You” dance. Harry joined in, but he didn’t really let loose, slipping to the back of the line and out of Louis’ sight by the time the first chorus came around. Not long after, it was time for the party to wind down.

“So, was it everything you wanted it to be?” Louis asked Harry as they stepped outside to meet their Uber.

“Yeah,” Harry said as he pulled his coat a bit tighter around himself, the weather having turned colder while they were inside. “Loads of fun.” He looked down at his mobile and back up again, not elaborating any further before pointing out that their car had arrived. They climbed inside, silence filling the space between them.

“I’ve had a good time this past week, you know. Havin’ you over an all that. If you wanted to, you’re welcome to come up and see me anytime.” Louis shifted in his seat as he spoke, not wanting to look at Harry yet. He couldn’t get over his fear that the kiss had ruined everything and that any sexual tension he’d felt between the two of them was a product of his own imagination and desires. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I mean, it’s good to have a mate in the building, yeah? And if you had a good time you could always plan on coming out to the party we have in the summer. It’s a lot more sports and games and stuff like that. A field day sort of thing.” He glanced at Harry, who was looking out the window, turning back after Louis had paused long enough to show he was done speaking.

“Can’t really commit to something that far out, Lou. Sorry.” His brow was furrowed slightly as he gave Louis a long, searching look. “But, um, yeah,” he said, nodding and blowing out a breath, “you can come down and see me any time as well. Like a couple of mates.”

They talked a bit more in the car about their holiday plans, but their usual spark wasn’t quite there. Louis found himself looking forward to the lift ride, considering just saying something while they were alone together in the same place they’d met. It probably couldn’t make things worse, after all. And then the lift was out of order.

After trudging up several flights of stairs in uncomfortable silence, Harry barely managed to give Louis a half-hearted goodbye and a wave before opening the door to his floor and heading home. It wasn’t how Louis had hoped the night would end at all.

Almost a week after the party and a few days before Christmas, Louis still hadn’t heard from Harry. He’d had his last official day of work until the new year, and now he was just sitting in his apartment, feeling sorry for himself and wishing that the man below him would stop practicing “All I Want For Christmas Is You” on the saxophone. He needed to get out of his apartment and find something to make him feel excited about the holiday. And take his mind off Harry.

It hit him the moment he really allowed himself to think of something other than his fake dating disappointment. “I’m getting a fucking tree,” he said out loud to his empty apartment. He grabbed his keys and headed out just as the saxophone player finally switched to ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.’ “Maybe it’s going to be a good Christmas after all.”

He hadn’t really thought the whole thing through, though, and after making his way to the nearest place that had any trees left and picking out a small one that would fit in his flat, he realized getting it home might be a bit of a problem. Just to add to his troubles, snow started falling. He looked at the tree and rolled his eyes, hoping he could convince a cab to take him with a tree the size of a rather large child. After a few minutes of waiting, he realized it was useless, and began trudging back home, the tree hoisted onto his shoulder.

When he arrived back at his building, he was out of breath and somehow both hot and cold all at once, his fingers sticky with sap and pine needles poking into his face. The lift door was starting to close, so he yelled for someone to hold it, barely making it inside before he realized that he was riding with Harry.

“Oh. Um. Thanks, Harry. For holding the doors.” He leaned his tree against the side of the lift as Harry pressed the numbers for their floors.

“S’no problem,” Harry said, looking down at his feet. “S’what I’d have done for anybody.”

“Right. Yeah.”

The floors ticked past them slowly as the silence stretched between them. Louis took a deep breath, considering getting off on Harry’s floor just to chat with him in a place that didn’t feel so forced. Before he even had time to debate it with himself, however, the lift came to a halt with a loud thunk and the squeal of metal on metal.

“Fuck was that?” Harry grabbed onto Louis’ arm for support, Louis putting his free hand on Harry’s waist to keep him steady. The lights flickered out around them, and Louis felt Harry tense underneath his touch. When they hummed back to life they both exhaled, looking at each other and sharing a relieved chuckle.

“Think we should call someone?” Louis was getting ready to pull his phone out when the intercom inside the lift crackled to life.

“Who’ve we got in there? Anyone?” The voice on the intercom was hard to understand, a bit fuzzy and distorted.

“Harry, 8C, and Louis, 9G,” Harry said. “Who’s this?”

“Paul. I’m with the company that’s been doing maintenance on your lift. Seems as though someone took the out of order sign off, and I’m afraid you two’ll be stuck for a bit while we get things moving.”

“There’s not a chance that the cable’s gonna snap or summat?” Louis asked quickly. He realized Harry’s hand was still on his arm when he felt a little squeeze at his question. It wasn’t until he squeezed back that he realized he still had his hand on Harry’s waist. He left it anyway; it was comforting to him. “We don’t need to be saying our goodbyes, yeah?” He managed a feeble laugh.

“No, no. You lads’ll be fine, should have you out in an hour. Less if Pete picks up his bloody mobile.” Paul cursed under his breath and Louis felt himself relax a bit.

“We’ll just sit tight then,” Louis said. “Let us know when something changes?”

“Yeah, course I will.”

With that, the intercom’s buzzy distortion cut off, and Louis was left holding onto Harry awkwardly. He cleared his throat and moved his hand away, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess we’re here for a while. Might as well sit, yeah?” He lowered himself to the floor of the lift, grateful that the carpet had been replaced only a few months prior and hadn’t seen as many horrors as it would have this time last year. Harry slid down against the wall not far from him.

“You’ve got a tree.” Harry nudged at Louis’ knee with the toe of his shoe. “Looks nice.”

Louis looked over his shoulder at the diminutive little tree, its branches still bound with twine. “Thanks. Paid way too much for it, but that’s what you get when you leave it off til the last minute, right? Have you got one?”

“No, been kind of distracted this year. Just came back from a late lunch with my sister and she was telling me I should stop off for one. Or some fairy lights at least.”

“Sparkly garland, that, um, what’s it called?” Louis tapped his finger against his leg, trying to recall the word. “Goes on trees or all around, s’like--”

“Tinsel?”

“Tinsel! That’s it! You seem like the tinsel type.” Louis looked over at Harry and huffed a laugh at Harry’s amused little smile. “What? You aren’t going to try to deny it, are ya?”

Harry shook his head and opened the shoulder bag he was carrying. A package of gold tinsel was crammed inside. It was large enough that it almost didn’t fit, and Harry gave Louis a tiny shrug when their eyes met again.

“So you are a tinsel man, then. Sparkly Styles.” Louis rocked forward a bit and slapped Harry’s thigh lightly. “Wish we could combine our decor, though. I’ve not gotten a single thing to put on the tree once I get it inside. I’m sure I’ve got something packed off in a box somewhere, but hell if I know where.”

“Huh,” Harry huffed in response. He took a breath as if he was about to speak and then wrinkled his nose and looked away, thinking better of it. “That’s too bad, I guess.” He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment, the banter they’d been sharing over as soon as it had begun, it seemed.

Louis sighed and picked at the carpet, grabbing a pine needle that had fallen and breaking it in half to release its Christmasy aroma.

“It’s just. Kind of shit, Lou. Making a joke like that.” Louis’ eyes shot up immediately, looking to Harry only to find him with his head still against the wall and his eyes closed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He did his best to keep any vitriol out of it, genuinely curious what Harry was talking about.

“Like, do you want me to fake decorate your apartment for Christmas and then take everything back when it’s over? I mean, it’s fine you weren’t interested in me, s’not like I actually thought you would be. But then you’re joking about it, and you…” Harry sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind, sorry, you don’t deserve that. It was a joke. M’just sensitive about it, I guess. And I might’ve had one too many drinks with my sister earlier.” He huffed out a little laugh as Louis watched him in stunned silence. “She even warned me to avoid you because she knows how I can get on whiskey drinks.”

Louis stared at Harry as he tried to parse everything he’d just said. He couldn’t possibly have understood it right. “You’re interested in me?” When Harry didn’t answer, Louis moved a bit closer and gave him a gentle poke in the side. “You--what’d you mean I wasn’t interested?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I kept thinking things were going well, and then the night of the party, I saw the text you got from a friend. Before we got in the lift. Something about dropping the fake.”

“What else?”

“Ugh, fine. Um. It was okay at the party and then we kissed and you-- it seemed like you backed off right away, I could tell it was like you regretted it, y’know? And I came back from the loo and you were texting your friends, and I just. Kind of put it all together then, that it really was just a fake thing and I was being an idiot.” Harry covered his eyes with his hand. “Fuck, and now we’re going to be in this lift for like thirty more completely embarrassing minutes.”

Louis couldn’t help himself. He started laughing, reaching out to curl his fingers around Harry’s knee. He tried covering his mouth with his free hand, but the giggles wouldn’t stop until Harry shoved him, opening his mouth to protest. Louis put one finger over Harry’s lips and shook his head, taking a deep breath so that he could speak.

“Fuck, Haz. I’m the idiot. I wanted to ask you to be my date before the party, and I kept talking myself out of it. Thought I was the one imagining things. Having you be my fake boyfriend was awful because all I wanted was for you to be my actual date, holding hands and making fun of all the cheesy bits of the party and not kissing on the dance floor in front of half my office mates.” He moved closer to Harry and lowered his finger from Harry’s lips. “I wanted to kiss you after the party in front of your door, nervous about it but so excited.”

“But what was that text? And why’d you keep talking about being mates if you actually thought you wanted to have a proper date with me?” Harry took Louis’ hand in his and held onto it tightly.

“That text was from one of me best friends, Zayn. I promised I’d call him when I got the balls to tell you I wanted you to be more than a fake boyfriend. So when he talked about, um, dropping the fake, it was him asking if I’d gotten my shit together.”

Harry’s grin was wide, his green eyes twinkling with joy and his dimples out in full force. “So you actually like me? Like-like me?”

“God, not if you’re going to keep talking like that I won’t,” Louis laughed. Harry pushed him teasingly, the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he leaned forward.

“You liiiiike me, you want to kiiiiiss me--”

Louis clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth. “If you’re gonna start quoting rom coms, at least stay on theme and go with a Christmas one, love.” He took his hand away and Harry pursed his lips as if he was having a hard time keeping his mouth closed. “Well?”

“Could we just kiss instead?”

“I think that could be arranged, love.” Louis rose up on his knees and leaned forward, his arms falling on either side of Harry’s head as he lowered himself toward Harry. Their lips brushed and Louis felt joy bubble up inside his chest like champagne in a glass, fizzy and light. Kissing Harry was addictive, and after that first touch of their mouths Louis only wanted more-- a firmer press of lips, the soft weight of Harry’s lower lip as he pulled it into his mouth and nipped at it just so with his teeth, and the first brilliant slide of their tongues over one another.

“Okay boys, we’re gonna give it a go. Might wanna sit down if you’re not already.” Paul’s voice sputtered through the intercom, Louis and Harry pulling apart as if they’d been caught out kissing.

“Thanks, mate. Will do,” Louis said. He took a moment to kiss Harry’s head-- he’d bumped it against the wall of the lift at the sound from the intercom --and then sat down next to him, lacing their fingers together. “Come up to mine? I’ve got a tree to set up and everything we’d need to make mulled wine.”

Harry nodded as the lift jerked to life.

~~~One Year Later~~~

“Try this,” Harry said as he brought his fingers to Louis’ mouth. He’d been experimenting with making Christmas treats, and Louis hadn’t had a bad one yet. He opened his mouth and let Harry put the sweet on his tongue, tasting milk chocolate almost immediately and then the bright flavor of mint soon after.

Louis hummed with pleasure as the candy melted over his tongue. “What is that, love? It’s fucking brilliant.”

“Mint chip truffle. Good?”

“The absolute best, babe. You’re not giving those away, sorry to tell you. The whole lot stays here.”

“I need to impress your co-workers, baby! When they met me last year I wasn’t my best boyfriend self. Now that we’re properly together, I need to feed them up. Get ‘em hooked on my Christmas treats.” Harry picked up a bag of peppermint bark and some ginger biscuits he’d made, dancing them back and forth beside his face. “And I promised Ayda a sample of everything! She’ll kill you if she finds out you kept those all to yourself.”

“Alright, alright. Ayda can have some. Two. Maybe three.” Louis wrapped his arms around Harry, his hands drifting down to cup his bum. “Since I get this little treat all to myself, I suppose I can share the sweeties around just a tiny bit.”

“Now you’ve got the holiday spirit,” Harry said, leaning in to give Louis a kiss. Around them, Louis’ flat was fully decorated for the holiday: a tree stood in the corner covered in ornaments, and gold tinsel was draped artfully around the rooms, strings of fairy lights intertwining with it. Harry’s flat was equally decorated; they split their time pretty evenly between the two flats and had spent an afternoon at each one getting things looking just right for the holiday since it held such significance for them.

Harry didn’t know it, but Louis had plans to ask him about moving in together at Christmas. A larger flat was opening up in their building a few floors up, and Louis was pretty sure they’d get it if they wanted it. And it seemed like they both really wanted it.

Saxophone music started coming up from the floor beneath them and Harry began swaying to it as he and Louis kissed. When he pulled away, he had a mischievous smile on his face. “This song ring any bells for you?”

Louis listened, trying to place the melody. He’d heard it before, and it definitely had a pleasant association. Harry leaned in and kissed him again and it hit him. “Is this the song that was playing the first time we kissed?”

Harry nodded, kissing Louis again when he got it right. “Asked Niall to play it for me. I know it’s not quite Christmas, but since the party’s tonight I thought it would be a good time for me to, um. Well, it’s not giving you a gift, really, but it’s not not that, either.”

“Harry, love, just tell me?”

“Ask you, actually. If you’d want to move in together? There’s a--”

“Flat? Upstairs?” Louis cut Harry off with a cheeky grin. “You little shit, you’ve stolen my idea!”

Harry laughed, squeezing Louis tighter. “That’s a yes, then?”

“Course it’s a yes! Been ready to live with you for a while now. I suppose I’ll have to get you a real present now, though, which is a fucking shame this close to Christmas.” Louis shook his head ruefully before looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Unless my saying yes counts as a gift.”

Harry just leaned in and nuzzled his neck, biting kisses from his collarbone up to his earlobe before whispering, “I know you’ve gotten me loads of gifts, baby. S’what you do.” His breath was warm against Louis face. “But living with you, being with you? All this? S’enough.”

“C’mere,” Louis said, though he and Harry couldn’t really get any closer. He wrapped himself around Harry as tightly as he could, kissing him long and hard. “I want to take you out and show you off to everyone tonight. My amazing real-life almost live-in boyfriend.” Harry nodded back at him, grinning, and Louis continued. “Then I want to bring you back here and have the kind of night that’ll make Niall wish he’d installed soundproofing between our flats. How does that sound, baby?”

“Like a real Christmas date, Lou.”