Work Text:
“I told you, Niall,” Harry says into his phone, slamming his fingers on the remote repeatedly and groaning when nothing happens. “Netflix is broken.”
“Shall we have a funeral?” Niall replies sarcastically. “Here lies Harry’s favorite way to waste time…” He fakes loud, hysterical sobs, and Harry just rolls his eyes.
“As much as I really don’t want to, I have to call someone. I can’t fix this. Unless you wanna come over and help me?”
“Nah, sorry, mate. Can’t.”
“What are you doing that’s more important?”
There’s a silence that’s soon filled with crunching coming from Niall’s end. “Nothin’,” Niall answers honestly, “I just don’t want to.”
“Arsehole,” Harry grumbles before hanging up on his friend before he can come up with a smart aleck reply.
He clicks helplessly on the remote again, watching as it stays on the home screen. All he wants to do is sit down and marathon Breaking Bad, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. He’s googled everything, tried everything imaginable, and ringing Niall was his last hope – and that helped absolutely nothing. Harry hates admitting defeat and calling any sort of repair service – he can count on Liam for fixing his pipes if there’s ever a problem, Zayn knows how to use drywall, and Niall…well, he’s damn good company – but this is necessary. This is a matter of life and death. This is what’s standing in the way of him and Walter White. This…is paying money he really doesn’t want to spend.
He calls the cable company, and they say they’ll send someone within the hour.
Harry sighs and decides to look at it as being one hour closer to watching Breaking Bad instead of money wasted.
*
When the doorbell to his flat rings and Harry walks to the door irritated and bored, he definitely doesn’t expect the repairman to be so…fit. He has to keep his jaw from falling completely open when he comes face to face with the man that’ll be in his house for the next hour or so trying to fix his Netflix. And god, this is embarrassing. He hasn’t even combed his hair or brushed his teeth, and there’s a gorgeous man standing in front of him. Why is this happening? They have to be around the same age, and his hair is messy, but an artful, strategic mess, and he has the most piercing blue eyes and inviting smile Harry’s ever seen. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt with the company’s logo on it, and is this what love at first sight feels like? It might be.
He doesn’t realize that he’s been staring until the man clears his throat. “Uh, mate? Did you want me to come in? Or are you just going to stare all day? Either one’s fine with me – I still get paid.”
Harry feels his face flush as he runs his fingers through his unruly curls. “Right. Sorry.” He steps away from the door and motions for the man to come in. “The TV’s that way.” He points toward the living room, but he feels like an idiot because it’s visible from the doorway. His flat isn’t that big.
“Figured that out, but cheers,” the guy tells him, corners of his mouth curving up into a smile. As he heads into the living room, Harry can’t help but stare, and god, even his bum is gorgeous. This is ridiculous.
Harry follows behind him, unsure of what to do. Is he supposed to leave and let the man do his work? Or can he stay? And get a better view of his arse? He hopes it’s the second one, but he really doesn’t know what the proper protocol is. He sits on the arm of the couch, figuring that’s casual, and taps his fingers against it. The man must get the sense that he’s being watched as he plays with a few buttons on the remote because he turns around wearing a grin. “You can go back to whatever you were doing before I got here. I’m rather good at my job. Don’t need supervision.”
Harry grins sheepishly and shrugs. “This is what I was doing before you got here. Only probably a little more forlorn than I am now.”
“Ah.” He laughs a little, and Harry notices crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes, and fuck, he’s so cute. “Been a tough day without your beloved Netflix?”
“No,” Harry replies automatically, but the guy looks at him with an eyebrow raised and he quickly changes his answer. “Er, yes. A little.”
“Well, it should be working in just a mo. I’m very good at my job. I’m Louis, by the way.” He turns his attention back to the TV, playing with a few more buttons on the remote.
“Harry.”
A silence falls over them, and Harry hums lowly, trying not to stare awkwardly at Louis the entire time. Was that a normal thing? Did you usually introduce yourself to the cable guy? Whatever. “Uh, do you want some tea?” Harry asks, and when Louis turns around and nods, he can’t help but grin.
“That’d be great. Ta.”
Harry heads into the kitchen, and as he pulls out the kettle, he briefly considers asking this guy for his phone number. Is that too forward? Did people do that? Are there stories where people meet their soul mate all because of a faulty connection and a solid Breaking Bad addiction? He has far too many questions. He clears his head as he finishes making the tea, opening the cabinets and deliberating which mugs are the perfect ones to use. He decides that two solid colored blue ones will do the job.
He starts back into the living room saying, “Do you like milk or sugar? And if so ho – ” Harry stops in his tracks when he sees Louis sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, scrolling through his Netflix queue.
“Your taste isn’t half bad,” Louis tells him, looking over with a smirk. “A few too many trashy reality shows for my taste, but everyone has guilty pleasures. And I take my tea with sugar.”
Harry walks over and sets the two mugs down on the table, shaking his head all the while. There is no way in hell this is normal. He may not call repairmen often, but this can’t be normal. He’s also sure they aren’t all this attractive. He goes to the kitchen and returns to Louis carrying a bowl of sugar.
“Brilliant,” Louis says, face lighting up. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem at all, really,” Harry replies, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. “Do you do this often?”
“Do what?” His face looks completely innocent, but in the short time Harry’s known this man, he doesn’t think anything he does is completely angelic.
“Y’know.” He waves around his living room. “Stick around.”
“Oh, no,” Louis assures, shaking his head. “I only do it at the attractive customers’ houses. What were you planning to watch, dear Harold?”
He laughs at the nickname, and why does he feel twelve years old? “Breaking Bad.”
“Oh, well, now I know why you were on edge about your Netflix not working. I’ve been watching that myself recently. It’s the television version of crack. Or meth, I guess. Let’s test it to see if it works. What episode?”
“Season four premiere.”
“Ah.” Louis clicks his tongue, and Harry turns to him with furrowed brows. “Can’t watch that. I’m only in the middle of season two, so I guess that means I get to pick what we watch.” He pats Harry’s knee gently, almost like he’s hoping Harry will accept his defeat.
“What do you want to watch?” Harry asks curiously, taking another sip of his tea. He shouldn’t be so transfixed by the way Louis’ tongue slightly sticks out of his mouth while he intently stares at the screen, but oh, he is.
“My favorite movie.” A few more clicks and it’s on the screen. “Love Actually.”
“Shut up.” Harry stares incredulously at the screen, then to Louis, then the screen, then to Louis. It’s the middle of June, and there’s really no reason at all that they should be settling in to watch a Christmas movie, but fuck.
“Now, Harry,” Louis begins with a twinkle in his eye, “you can make fun of me all you want, but Hugh Grant is the best person to have in a romantic comedy. And I won’t argue on this.”
“Of course he is,” Harry agrees, nodding excitedly. “It’s just…this is my favorite movie, too.”
Louis claps his hands together before pressing play. “Even better.”
When they both start singing “Christmas is All Around” right along with the movie, Harry thinks that maybe he could get used to this.
*
“Aren’t you supposed to get back to work?” Harry quizzes once the movie is over, and they’ve gone through two bowls of popcorn, three cups of tea each, and three episodes of Keeping Up With the Kardashians (and he’s learned that Louis is hilarious, always adding some side-splitting commentary).
“Ah, shit,” Louis exclaims, stretching out as he looks at the clock underneath Harry’s TV. “Quite honestly, I probably should’ve gone back to work hours ago. I’m actually the worst employee they have.”
“Why?” Harry asks, collecting the empty mugs and bringing them into his kitchen. “You fixed my Netflix, didn’t you?”
Louis laughs, standing up and hiding a yawn with the back of his hand. “I might’ve done that, but I’m probably not supposed to get distracted by pretty customers, am I? Oi.”
Harry smiles at the floor before running his hand through his hair and looking at Louis again, trying to keep a straight face. This isn’t happening. None of this is happening. This type of thing could be in a movie like Love Actually, but this is his real life. “How much do I owe you? Probably quite a lot at this point? You get paid by the hour, right? Eesh.” He starts to pull his wallet out of his back pocket when he sees Louis shake his head.
His brows furrow as he says, “Why are you shaking your head?”
“I’ll only accept payment in the form of your phone number, Harry whose last name I do not know.” He grins slyly as he walks toward the counter, pulling a small notepad out of his back pocket and sliding it across the counter.
“Styles,” he replies, unable to hide the grin that’s slowly spreading across his face. He scribbles down his number. “There you go, Louis whose last name I also do not know.”
“Tomlinson.” He shoves the pad back in his pocket with a smile. “Well, it’s been a fun day, Harry Styles. Even if I am proper shit at my job.”
“This is the best day I’ve had in a long time,” Harry admits, and as soon as the words leave his lips, he feels like an absolute idiot. This guy is still a stranger. Sure, he just sat on his couch and watched a few hours of TV with a few mugs of tea, but he learned his last name only a few seconds ago.
Louis grins, and the crinkles by his eyes are too damn endearing. “I feel the same.” He leans across the counter to plant a soft, chaste kiss on Harry’s cheek. “I best be going, only so I don’t get fired. I’ll call you.”
“Bye, Lou.” The nickname slips out so easily.
“See ya, Harold.”
He waves, and he’s gone in a flash, and Harry’s left to smile and wonder if that really, actually, truly happened. It's like a fairytale - and Louis is his repairman in shining armor.
*
When Harry’s doorbell rings the next day, he isn’t expecting anyone, but his friends are known to show up uninvited. He opens the door and is shocked to see Louis standing before him, wearing a gigantic grin and holding up a bag of Chinese takeaway.
“I told them your Netflix broke again,” he giggles as he steps into Harry’s flat. “And I told them that I needed to make sure that everything for you is absolutely working properly. And I may or may not have stayed up half the night watching Breaking Bad up until season four, so now we can start that, unless, of course, you started it without me, and I hope you didn’t.”
Harry’s speechless and grinning and dizzy and happy. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather watch with,” he tells him, watching as he proudly unpacks the food.
“I’m glad you feel the same.”
Harry feels warm all over, and he realizes that maybe Hugh Grant isn’t always needed for a perfect fairytale ending.