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His coffee was burnt.
Zayn would always tell Louis he was crazy and call him a 'beverage hipster' when he'd make the remark, but Louis insisted that it could be burnt and disgusting and completely undrinkable. Zayn wasn't as avid of a coffee consumer as Louis was, so really, Louis was experienced and Zayn's opinion was meaningless.
"It's just fucking coffee," Zayn commented when Louis took the cup away from his mouth in distaste. "It tastes shit no matter what."
Louis shook his head, the question of why do you have a cup, then? on the tip of his tongue, but he already knew the answer. Between exams and his relationship and the fact that eight AM was still considered too early to wake up well into his college years, Zayn needed the pick-me-up.
"It's burnt," Louis opted for, putting emphasis on the word. Zayn sighed, muttering something about taking it back to the barista and asking for a new one if he was going to be 'so fucking uptight about a drink that tastes like arse.' If Louis hadn't been so depressed about his drink, he probably would've told Zayn how he would've preferred it to taste like arse since he had grown quite an acquired taste for arses in his twenty-one years.
"You're disgusting," Zayn muttered, clearly reading Louis' mind with his artistic powers that Louis swore existed.
"I didn't say a word," Louis fought, taking another sip of the black liquid and, yes, definitely burnt. "This is fucking disgusting. Seriously, how the fuck do you burn coffee when you have a fucking machine to do the work for you?"
Zayn sighed. Louis pouted. It was a typical morning.
"Is that Harry?" Zayn mumbled somewhere amongst their game of fuck, marry, kill with only Harry Potter characters to choose from. Louis had prepared an entire speech of how he'd rather marry Hermione and have a sexless relationship since she seemed the least likely to blow their savings in ten-plus years, but his head whipped around as soon as the name left Zayn's lips.
Louis should've known; it wasn't quite a typical morning until Harry Styles was mentioned.
"Fuck, don't look at him," Louis said quickly, kicking Zayn under the table. Zayn rose from his seat completely in retaliation. "Zayn, don't you walk out the fucking door—"
"I'm walking out the fucking door," Zayn replied, giving Louis a challenging look. Louis was taken aback; he'd had a crush on Harry since freshman year when Louis had continuously dropped his pen during their English lecture and Harry had told him it was "fucking annoying," before he'd immediately apologized profusely and said he was having a rough time adjusting and it made him irritable' was all. That exact pen was still tucked away in a drawer in Louis' dorm, and Louis still got chills every time his fingers brushed across it in search of something to write with.
Zayn was very aware of Louis' feelings—obsession, if you asked him—and he'd been urging Louis to do something for the past two years. Louis had promised him week after week (which eventually turned into month after month) that he would, he just needed a good time and place and he'd do it, he swore he would.
Right then outside of a coffee shop right after the fucking barista had burnt his coffee was not a good time nor place.
"What are you doing?" Louis hissed, going after Zayn and ignoring the fact that they'd left two near-full cups of coffee unattended. It was shit, anyway, but if Zayn asked, it was because it was burnt and not because Zayn was right.
"I'm just borrowing his phone," Zayn answered, which was weird because he'd been playing games on his all morning while Louis droned on about something even he didn't care to listen to. "Mine's dead," he said, as if sensing Louis' thoughts which, again, the powers of the artistic.
"Then borrow mine—"
"Harry, mate!"
Louis wondered if ten years of friendship was too long to be able to pretend he didn't know Zayn at all.
Harry stopped in his tracks, removing an ear bud from his ear and looking for the source of the sound. Louis could work with this, all he needed to do was remind Zayn of how terrible this idea was and slowly drag him away, resorting to forcefulness if necessary.
"Over here," Zayn continued, jogging to catch up with Harry who had spotted him now, and Louis had no control over his feet when they followed him.
"Oh, 'ey, mate," Harry slurred, and it was clear he hadn't been awake very long. Louis wanted to be the first to witness this Harry every morning. "D'you need something?"
Louis came to a stop a few inches behind Zayn, hopelessly hoping that now wasn't too late to turn around.
"Yeah, my mum's expecting a call and my cell has died," he said hopefully. "Have you got one I could borrow? It'll be really quick, promise."
Really, Zayn's plan of dragging Louis over here and faking a phone conversation to get Louis to talk to Harry was clever, but it wasn't going to get Louis to step past the friend zone with Harry and he'd make sure of it.
"Um, yeah, sure," Harry muttered, digging around in his pocket until he retrieved the device. He handed it to Zayn before he'd removed his headphones, jerking the buds from his ears. He turned red immediately, pulling the plug and pocketing the wired mess before he could make a bigger fool of himself. Louis was extremely endeared.
"Thanks," Zayn replied, immediately tapping a few numbers into the keypad and pressing the call button. Louis bit his lip.
"Louis, right?" Harry broke the silence. Louis tried to contain his emotions when he nodded and responded (totally not eagerly) with a, "Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry answered, giving Louis one of those smiles that put his dimples on full display and Louis honestly could've melted.
Before he could jump in and accidentally tell Harry he'd thought of him while wanking on numerous occasions (the most recent being last night), his phone began buzzing in his pocket. He was ready to absolutely kill whoever had decided it would be okay to call him now of all times and ruin his talk with this adonis—
"I'm really sorry," Louis mumbled, pulling his phone from his pocket. "This should only take a second."
"Take your time," Harry accommodated, and the heart-melting smile was still there so Louis could handle this, he could.
Louis checked the Caller ID, not recognizing the number. With his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and skepticism buried deep in his mind, he pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Great, so Louis will call you tomorrow," he heard the voice—it was echoing, though. It sounded both in Louis' ear and two feet away and it resembled Zayn's soft but meaningful tone and—
Louis took a glance to his side, finding his best friend currently stretching his hand toward Harry with the lad's phone in hand. Harry seemed just as confused, his fingers wrapping around the device and holding it in front of his body as he looked from Louis to Zayn to his phone. Louis mimicked the actions until it all clicked and—Louis was going to murder Zayn. Or he would shave his head. Then he'd feel like never leaving his room again too, just like Louis did in that very moment.
"Did you just use your friend to hit on me?" Harry asked, and Louis didn't know how to answer the question without seeming obnoxious or rude, so he settled for choking on his own words.
"I—um—"
"He did, mate. Pretty sly of him, too," Zayn remarked, giving Louis a clap on the back. "Thought of it all himself, had his eye on you for a while."
"Oh, uh," Harry looked at the ground, his cheeks flaming once again. "That's very sweet, I guess."
"I didn't know," Louis began, but the attempt at clearing his name was useless.
"I told him that a simple 'Will you go out with me?' would've sufficed, but the bastard thought you were too special for that. That's something to discuss over that dinner and movie you were going to take Harry to, right, Louis?"
With his eyes remaining on Harry, Louis stuttered, "I mean—if you want, I guess I could, uh."
"That'd be good," Harry answered, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Louis had the sudden desire to do the same. "I, um. Yeah. Listen, I'm running late for class but you'll call, won't you?"
"Of course," Louis replied immediately, nodding his head for emphasis. "Or I could text you, whichever way works best for you."
Harry grinned. "A call will be fine. Bye Zayn," he muttered, then giving Louis the dimple-y smile again. "Louis."
"Bye," Louis called after him. As soon as his body was nothing but a figure in the distance, Louis punched Zayn in the arm.
"Great way to thank me after I got you a date with your soul mate," Zayn grunted, rubbing his arm in mock pain.
"I was perfectly capable of doing that myself," Louis argued, and they both knew it was a lie, but Louis had his date and Zayn had the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten it for his best friend and that was good enough for them.
~~~
He shouldn't have expected any different when, at noon the next day, Zayn dialed Harry's number into Louis' phone and chucked it at him before he could respond.
"Zayn, what the fu—"
"It's Harry, pick it up."
Louis groaned about how Zayn was the pushiest best friend of any and every pushy best friend ever to exist as he put the phone to his ear, swallowing his nerves. Hopefully Harry would be busy and he could leave a message.
Of course, Louis had no such luck.
"Hello?" Harry's voice sounded over the speaker, and he still managed to sound hot over a fucking phone. "Who is this?"
"Harry," Louis said, partially in awe until he remembered what Harry had asked. "Oh, fuck—wait, no. It's Louis. Not you, because you're you."
"Oh," Harry laughed. Louis was thankful he hadn't run him off with his stupidity. "Didn't know if I was expecting you to follow up, to be honest."
Louis looked up at Zayn as if asking him what to say, but of course he only gave him a look that said, Open you're idiot mouth before he thinks you've left. Louis sighed. "Why wouldn't I, after going to all that trouble?"
Zayn looked ready to laugh at him for a reason unbeknownst to Louis so he took his phone to his room and locked the door after flipping Zayn off.
"That was pretty creative, I'll give you that," Harry said. "Never had my number in a near stranger's phone before he'd asked me out."
The thought of Harry going out with other men, while a realistic thought, made Louis' blood boil. He was stricken with the need to make this date the best Harry had ever been on, fuck those other guys. "Suppose I'm special, then," Louis joked, secretly hopeful that Harry wouldn't refute him.
"Suppose you're right," Harry agreed. Louis grinned.
"So, about that date..."
Louis ended up talking Harry into giving him an address to pick him up at twelve o'clock tomorrow so they could go to the matinee of a new movie ("Paying more just to watch a movie at night is the dumbest load of shit I've ever heard. We go to the matinee or there is no date," Harry had said) then take a romantic walk through the park (he remembered how Harry had said that nice walks through outdoor scenery was the one thing he missed most about home once in class and it was the perfect amount of cliché to satisfy Louis' needs), and end with a nice lunch.
By the time the call ended, Louis felt like he'd just been asked to junior prom all over again (Harry was ten times better than Nick, anyway). Harry had laughed at Louis' every single one of Louis' jokes—even the ones Louis thought were shit that Zayn would've sighed at and told Louis to get a life—and even joined in a couple of times. It was a comfortable phone call, if nothing else.
The next day at approximately ten forty-seven AM, Louis was afraid their meeting would destroy that completely.
"Fuck, Louis, I think I liked it better when you were hopelessly pining for him," Zayn commented after Louis had groaned about how Harry is too perfect for me, he'll see that as soon as I show up and do something, like, punch me, for the fifteenth time that morning. "Wait, scratch that. Now you'll actually get laid and I won't hear you moaning his name at midnight when you think I've gone to bed."
Louis was unaffected by the confession. "Wait, do you think he has sex on the first date? Do I take condoms? Lube? Oh God, is he a top or a bottom? Do I ask that, or would that ruin the moment? Would you be offended if I asked you if you preferred to give or take it up the arse?"
"Shut the fuck up," Zayn said, sighing. Louis closed his lips. "Listen, take whatever you think you'll need, but don't ever ask me about anal sex when I'm being used as an example."
"You experimented," Louis reminded him, quirking an eyebrow. Zayn didn't flinch. "You want my help or not, Louis?"
Louis grunted and sat back in his seat. He'd nearly forgotten his nerves. "I want it," he mumbled, similar to the way the words would've left an insolent toddler's mouth.
"Okay, my advice," Zayn nodded, then continued to stand up and slap Louis' cheek a bit harder than necessary. "Come off it and get dressed."
Louis put a hand to his cheek and smiled. "I hate you, but I also really love you."
"It's mutual," Zayn muttered, walking to his bedroom door and turning just before he shut the door. "If you're not out of this place before I come out, I promise I'll drag you down there in your Power Ranger pajama bottoms and not feel a bit of regret."
With that, he shut the door, and Louis got up because he'd learned from experience that Zayn wasn't afraid to humiliate Louis if he knew it'd be beneficial in the end. That was basically his entire high school experience in a nutshell.
Louis went for a nice but casual look, toned down from formal but not grossly underdressed. He gave himself one last look in the mirror and adjusted his hair underneath his beanie before grabbing his car keys and phone and rushing out the door.
He arrived at the address Harry had given him at promptly eleven twenty-four, wondering if he should go for another circle around the block to blow some time and make it look like he wasn't overly excited for this date. But when he came to a stop and saw Harry fussing with his hair in the reflection of a window on his doorstep, Louis' heart expanded three sizes and he couldn't bring himself to leave if he'd wanted to.
He pretended to have just arrived when Harry spotted him, fiddling with the gear shift and smiling in his direction. "Perfect timing," he murmured as Harry grinned at him and made his way to his car. "You look great."
He didn't miss the way Harry blushed (he really liked watching his cheeks pink, especially when he was the cause of it) when he got to the door and slid inside. "So do you," Harry said in agreement. Louis bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.
"So," Louis began, his thoughts escaping him. Harry was in his car, Harry thought he looked good, HarryHarryHarry. "Date, we're going on a date," he murmured in hopes Harry couldn't hear him, cursing his brain for having forgotten for a second that he was here to take Harry on a date—an actual date.
"I don't know if I could be in a relationship with someone so smart," Harry teased. Louis couldn't be offended because he was already dazed at hearing Harry just mention Louis in the same sentence as relationship, fuck. "Intelligence can be pretty intimidating."
"Trust me, I'm as thick as they come," Louis answered. He heard Harry give a small chuckle, and that was enough to make him ride in contentment the entire way to the movies with the occasional small talk and radio battle. (Harry was as hipster as they come, and Louis would've been disgusted had it been anyone but him.)
When they arrived at a theater just outside of their university and Louis grabbed two tickets to an action movie, Harry had laughed. "You're really unusual, you know? Anyone else would've chosen a romantic comedy so they could have an excuse to put their arm around me."
Louis rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm much more forward than that," he said, leading Harry to their seats. It wasn't a lie—he'd always been more outgoing when it came to dating during his high school years. It wasn't like he'd changed, per se, but this was Harry and he was different than anyone he'd ever taken out before. He was nervous and bashful about where the boundaries were drawn; testing the waters was the best way to go, it seemed.
Louis ended up purchasing a large popcorn and two sodas after promising to buy Harry anything he wanted, but Harry had snuck and grabbed some candy that he bought himself behind Louis' back. "There's nothing wrong with a little pampering," Louis had reasoned with him, to which Harry offered him an M&M and muttered, "Then take this and quite literally eat your own words." Louis couldn't believe he'd gotten so lucky as to take this boy out.
They sat near the middle of the theater (Louis knew very well what went on in the back rows and he was a firm believer in paying for a movie and, you know, watching it) in a couple of seats a good distance from others. Louis was thankful for the seclusion—this way, when he made an idiot of himself, it was only in front of Harry.
Louis grew more and more nervous as the previews rolled; this was usually the point he tried to initiate some sort of contact with his date. But, again, this was fucking Harry Styles and he didn't want to treat him like he'd treated the others. He wanted Harry to be special in every sense of the word.
And he was scared. There was also that.
"Could I—" Louis began, debating on leaving it at that and going an entire two hours without physical contact with Harry but that thought alone had him aching to reach out for him. He'd caught Harry's attention with the words already, too, so Louis figured it'd be better to stop being a wuss.
"Yes, Louis?" Harry asked, his eyes focused on Louis' face. He was so attentive, and it killed Louis.
"Could I, uh," Louis stuttered out, coughing and regaining his confidence. "Could I hold your hand, maybe?"
He bit his lip, watching as Harry's eyebrows furrowed into a look of confusion before softening into one of complete endearment. Louis let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. "Of course you can," Harry said, grinning at Louis like he was the sun and in that moment, Louis felt like he very well could be.
Louis ignored the butterflies in his stomach as he reached across the arm rest and glided his fingers over Harry's knuckles. Harry got the message, turning his hand palm-up and moved it to the armrest separating them. Louis hand followed effortlessly, lacing his fingers through Harry's and settling them softly against the cushion. His heart was beating too quickly for only having touched Harry's hand.
"Is this okay?" Louis muttered in question, not bothering to hide the grin stretched across his cheeks. Harry squeezed Louis' hand in affirmation. "More than okay."
Louis' cheeks heated up, his eyes trained on their intertwined hands. He dreaded the moment they'd have to let go.
As the movie continued to play, Louis' eyes slowly drifted between their hands and the movie screen. He found his thoughts jumping from shots fired at the protagonist of the film to the way his skin looked in contrast to Harry's. It was mind boggling, and Louis only found his attention completely focused on the movie when a relatively large explosion happened. He didn't fail to notice the way Harry jumped.
And suddenly, Louis was back to being a completely smitten idiot for Harry, apparently.
Louis gently squeezed Harry's hand, giving enough pressure to make him notice but not enough to startle him any further than he already was. Harry slowly lifted his gaze to meet Louis', smiling softly. Louis couldn't help but return it.
"You scared, love?" Louis had no idea why the bloody nickname left his lips, but it'd seem rude to take it back now.
"Shocked," Harry muttered, looking hopeful as he added, "A bit of a cuddle would probably calm me down, though."
Louis sighed; he had no clue Harry could be so innocently cheeky. It wasn't fair, really. Nevertheless, he leaned closer to Harry and wrapped an arm around his shoulders while Harry rested his head against Louis. Louis nearly choked—this was the closest he'd ever been to Harry, and he was close enough that he could smell Harry's shampoo if he wanted. That was enough for Louis to go ahead and mark this entire thing off as a success.
Harry was quite the snuggler, Louis learned. He noticed how Harry continued to get closer and closer; he was pretty sure he heard a "stupid arm rest," sometime during the middle of the film. Louis only laughed as quietly as he could muster, doing his best to focus on anything but his need to lean down and kiss the life out of this boy who'd been gracious enough to go out with him.
When the movie was over, Louis couldn't remember much except fragments of fight scenes and professions of love, but he still figured he'd gotten his money's worth—cuddling Harry Styles in a movie theater was way better than shirtless men any day (and cuddling a shirtless Harry Styles was on a whole other level, but Louis really didn't need to be thinking about that right now).
"Can I take you out?" Louis asked as the credits rolled. Harry stared at him. "I was pretty sure that's what this was?"
"No," Louis said. "Out. As in—out. Of here."
He realized that it sounded like the line of a drunken person trying to bring someone home a moment too late. "The theater, I mean. Out of this theater. I'm not trying to—" Louis cut off, sighing into a laugh. When he looked up, Harry was staring at him, seeming rather amused.
"You may," Harry said softly, grinning at Louis like he understood his struggle. But it just wasn't possible for Harry Styles to go through what Louis was going through now because he was Harry Styles and it was ludicrous to think that he could be held to normal first-date-jitters standards.
He was going to ask Harry to hold his hand again, but Harry was reaching for his before the words got out. He must've looked psycho with how widely he was grinning while walking out of a movie theater, but anyone who saw who was attached to his hand would undoubtedly understand.
The park was a short walk, but Louis wasn't exactly comfortable leaving his car in the parking lot while he was gone. Plus, Harry would probably get suspicious if he noticed it along the walk and, really, driving was no better in that sense, but it was an excuse to tease Harry over his music choices for five minutes.
Two terribly indie but bearably short songs later, Louis was parked outside of the local park. There were kids loitering the playground with parents who seemed to have a low tolerance, so Louis took his chance to race to Harry's door and open it for him, making a beeline for the sign marked Nature Trail.
Louis reached for Harry's hand with more confidence than he'd possessed all day, grinning as his fingers threaded through Harry's effortlessly. He wondered what was the appropriate thing to say, where first date confessionals drew a line. He didn't think saying, I know we haven't spoken that much, but I've been basically worshipping you from afar for the past three years, be my boyfriend? would work out the way he wanted.
"Are parks not also a cliché?" Harry asked. Louis panicked. "I mean, after the action movie I figured you were one to go blatantly against the norm."
Louis licked over his lip, resisting the urge to drag them between his teeth. "You said you liked walks," he muttered, not bothering to check Harry's face for any sign of confusion. "In our lecture, when the professor made us stand up and tell everyone what we missed most about home. You said you missed taking quiet walks through the trees."
Harry was silent for a moment before he piped in with, "That was during our first year," he said incredulously. "And you still remember that?"
Louis went red, biting the inside of his cheek. "I—sorry. That was..." he cut off, unsure of what to say. He really hadn't intended for this date to turn into Louis Tomlinson: Stalker Extradordinaire, but it looked like he'd gone and fucked it up already.
There was a quick beat of quiet that lasted seconds but felt like eternity. He was prepared to offer Harry a ride home and promise to never speak to him again, but before he could utter a word, Harry was speaking up.
"You said your sisters," he murmured softly. "And your mum. You said you missed your family time because you didn't want to miss watching them grow up."
Louis couldn't bite back his smile, and when he looked up, he was sure Harry's expression matched his. In that moment, nothing could convince Louis that he and Harry weren't the perfect pair.
He was struck with a fiery want to kiss Harry right then and there, but he'd lusted after this boy for years—he wasn't going to settle for any average first kiss. And, yeah, any kiss with Harry would be undoubtedly perfect, but he wanted this boy so swept off his feet that no other boy Harry might possibly date after Louis (which would be none, if he was lucky) could measure up.
Out of the corner of his eye, Louis spotted an ice cream vendor and got the perfect idea. He squeezed Harry's hand. "Ice cream?" he offered, gesturing to the stand. Harry seemed confused, which was practically his constant state on this outing, but Louis couldn't stop smiling—Harry nodded for that reason.
Louis ordered mint chocolate chip while Harry went for the simple vanilla. Louis mocked offense at that because it was the only thing that could really distract him from his heart that was beating a mile a minute—something it hadn't done since high school.
He persuaded Harry to continue their walk down the trail (persuaded was the wrong word—more like Harry continued as soon as Louis asked) with ice cream cones in hand, already feeling like the main couple in a summer romance movie.
Louis stopped them in front of a pretty patch of flowers—it was green and lively, and Louis hoped desperately that Harry wouldn't find it uncomfortably corny. Corny, however, seemed to work on Harry, as the boy smiled and muttered, "Flowers are nice."
It still wasn't the perfect moment to kiss him, so Louis took a seat on the ground and gestured for Harry to join him. Taking a lick at his cone, he was careful not to make eye contact because then the situation would be awkward and full of sexual frustration and not the perfect setting for a first kiss.
Louis was so deep in thought of how to get the moment exactly right to lean over and kiss Harry (butterflies blossomed in his stomach as he realized he was literally minutes away from kissing this boy) that he apparently forgot where his mouth was and smeared ice cream on the tip of his chin.
He was mortified. He didn't think it could get any worse until Harry began to laugh.
It wasn't fair. Louis hadn't gotten his spectacular, Princess Diaries-esque foot-popping kiss. He hadn't wowed Harry into being his boyfriend until he proposed and they ran off into the sunset together and had three children and a kitten because Harry seemed more like a cat person, and now Louis' mind was just as childish as he felt with fucking ice cream on his face.
"Come here," Harry spoke up, breaking the silence. Louis didn't want to face him, much less scoot closer, except he really did because he still wanted to kiss him so well his foot popped even if they were on the ground and it would be an awkward position.
Before Louis could register what was happening, Harry was hooking his fingers underneath Louis' chin in a gentle touch that was still forceful enough to make Louis face him. He swiped his thumb gingerly through the sugary mess and he was looking straight into Louis' eyes and this was it, the perfect moment—
"Y'know," Harry drawled, voice slow with a hint of nervousness, "you don't have to ask to kiss me, too."
And fuck, what better time to kiss Harry Styles than when Harry Styles was practically asking to be kissed?
Louis brought a hand to Harry's cheek to hold him in place as he softly pressed his lips over Harry's. Harry's fingers remained underneath Louis' chin, pulling him forward and deepening the kiss. He was persistent, and Louis was nothing if not willing.
It was perfect. Sparks flew, fireworks went off, stars aligned, and Louis swore his foot popped anyway.
"Can I take you to dinner?" Louis asked as they pulled away, and he didn't have to wait for an answer as their ice cream cones were discarded in the closest bin and Harry was eagerly walking with him back to Louis' car.
They spent more time flirting than actually eating during their meal; they'd seated themselves on the same side of a booth, tangling their ankles together and giggling at the drop of a pin like teenagers.
"Just to clarify," Louis began as their plates were slowly dwindling in food quantity, "that whole phone number in a stranger's phone was entirely Zayn's idea."
"So you didn't want my number?" Harry asked, looking accusatory and a little worried, but mostly teasing.
"No, I—I really wanted your number. Like, I would've died for it." He watched Harry grin out of the corner of his eye. "Zayn's my best friend and he's had to be on the receiving end of my moping for three years, so he saw his chance and took it. I'll have to ask him where he learned the trick, though, because it was smooth as hell and it definitely worked."
"Wouldn't have worked if I didn't like you. Would've changed my number because some psycho could be marking me off of his victim's list," Harry joked. Louis rolled his eyes. "I'll have to thank Zayn some day."
"Don't worry, when I get back, I'll give him the platonic equivalent of a blowjob. Like, I'll do his laundry and fix the squeaky leg of that chair he likes to brood in."
It comfortably quiet with loads of grins and childish giggles until Harry spoke up. "Second date is all me, alright?"
Louis sighed and kissed Harry in answer because that was something he was allowed to do now.
He knew a few loads of laundry and a non-squeaking chair wouldn't be enough repayment for this, but Louis would gladly spend the rest of his college experience as Zayn's personal slave if it meant he could have this with Harry and one day they were a married couple running off into the sunset with their three children and tiny kitten in tow.