Archive of Our Own

 “I’m going to puke.”

“Heeeey, be nice. You’re marrying my sister.”

Niall glares over at Harry in the reflection of the mirror as Louis straightens his bowtie with a small shake of his head.

“No time for jokes, Harold. Can’t you see our baby is nervous?” Louis runs his thumbs over the silky peach colored tie before stepping back with a beaming smile. “I have to say, Ni, ‘m a bit upset that you’re just now incorporating pink into your look. It’s quite fitting on you.”

Niall’s eye twitches as if he’s about to spit out an insult, but his whole face seems to melt into a smile and he huffs out a short chuckle. So, he’s getting married. Niall Horan, Mr. ‘who-needs-that-lovey-dovey-crap’ is actually settling down – with Harry’s sister, to be exact. Louis figures it’ll only be a day or two when he sees a pig fly.

“He’s growing up,” Harry sighs, getting up from the hotel loveseat (the sign of a quality hotel, if you ask Louis) and snakes his arm around Louis’ shoulder to pull him into his side. “I say we’ve raised him pretty well.”

Louis nods in agreement and rests his head against Harry’s shoulder, inhaling his scent of bergamot and musk and something comforting that he hasn’t been able to pin down just yet. “Then again, he’s marrying a Styles…”

“Oi! You wound me!” Harry retreats his arm and sticks his tongue out at Louis. “Now if you boys will excuse me, I’ve got some man-of-honor duties to fulfill,” he says, grabbing his bow tie hanging on the edge of the loveseat and giving Niall one last once-over. “You look great. See you when you’re my brother.”

“In-law,” Niall corrects, clearly still able to be Niall despite the ghostly pale look on his face. He lets out a shaky breath and gives Harry a half-smile, pulling him in for a quick hug (which Louis is quick to separate because he just straightened up his tie, okay). “Love you, mate. See you.”

Harry nods and smacks a kiss onto Niall’s cheek, grinning with satisfaction at the roll of eyes he gets in return. He then turns to face Louis and cocks his head.

“As for you, mister,” Harry starts off in that concerned-father voice, draping his bow tie around his neck lazily and narrowing his frog eyes in on Louis. “Don’t even think about getting a slurpee before the wedding.”

“That was –”

“You were late to Zayn and Li’s wedding and Ed and Ellie’s wedding. Do not make this a tradition, Tomlinson,” Harry orders, pointing a stern finger dangerously close to Louis’ mouth, so naturally – “Ow! You can’t just keep biting me whenever I –”

“Don’t forget my mum’s wedding. And your mum’s,” Louis adds with a smug look on his face, nodding over at the door and patting Harry’s cheek.” Now go and help your sister look all bridal.”

Harry rolls his eyes and reaches over to idly fuss with a stray hair hanging over Niall’s forehead. “I told you – she’s got her bridesmaids for that. She doesn’t want me near her when she’s getting ready ever since –”

“You left the curler on her hair too long and nearly burnt it to a crisp. Right before your mum’s wedding, mind you,” Louis finishes with ease, getting on his knees to shine a scuff on Niall’s shoes. “Honestly, Harold, I don’t know how a person with such curly hair can be so inadequate with a curler.”

“It’s ‘cause he doesn’t ever need to use a curler. Duh,” Niall chimes in, regaining some color in his face. Louis couldn’t be more proud.

“Yeah, duh,” Harry scoffs playfully, stepping back and giving the two a fond nod. “Alright then, boys, I’ll see you at the chapel. No slurpees. You will not make the groom late to his own wedding.”

“No promises,” Louis says as he stands up, blowing Harry a kiss on the way up and laying a light smack on his bum. “Give Gems a hug for me. But don’t you dare ruin her hair or makeup.”

“No promises,” Harry mimics in a much higher tone than necessary, leaning over to peck Louis’ nose. “You look quite fit in peach,” he adds with a dimply smirk before heading out of the hotel suite to venture over to Gemma’s.

Louis doesn’t even realize he’s staring after him until Niall clears his throat raising his eyebrows and handing his cufflinks over to Louis.

“Right,” Louis huffs with a tight smile, holding Niall’s arm out as he pushes them in. “Y’know, groomsmen can help this process, too.”

Niall shrugs and holds out his other arm for Louis. “Ed’s helping set up the stage down at the reception hall, Zayn and Li are getting some sparklers, and Tom –”

“Wait, what? Sparklers?”

“Yeah. Gems saw this thing on Pinterest where –”

“Stop there,” Louis huffs, pushing in the other cufflink. If he hears one more thing abou Pinterst, he might actually puke. He’s spent one too many nights helping Harry pick out irrelevant little details for boards that are nonsensical for where they’re at right now. Recently, it’s been all about barbeque dinner parties in big backyards. It’s quite hard living with a middle-aged parent.

Niall laughs as Louis does some last-minute straightening up, cocking his head a bit. “What’s with you two, anyways?”

Louis doesn’t freeze up or go red – he just seems to slow down a bit as if to process it. It’s definitely not the first time someone’s insinuated that there’s something, let alone someone in their friend group. It’s still just so odd to hear and think about because – like, they’re mates; always have been, ever since they first met in the bathrooms at a concert and then saw each other on the first day of school the next day. It was always just this sure thing that they were made to be friends and it’s so clear and obvious for anyone else to see. But when they think there’s more – he just wonders.

Louis purses his lips and shrugs. “Dunno. What’s with you and Zayn?”

“Lou. You know what I mean.”

Louis shrugs and steps back to do his own bowtie in the mirror. “We’re best mates. Just like yesterday and the day before that and the years before that and just like it’ll always be. I thought we dropped this whole thing months ago?”

It’s Niall’s turn to shrug, giving Louis a thoughtful look. “Gemma and I were best mates. Zayn and Liam were best mates. Ed and Ellie were best mates. What makes you and Harry so special, hm?”

“We’re best mates. That’s it, always,” Louis says with a smug smile, bumping his hip with Niall’s and fixing up his outfit a bit. “Now c’mon. You’ve got a girl to marry.”

He leads the way out and goes to the elevators on the opposite side of the hallway in case Gemma walks out, but he can’t seem to shake the weird tug he feels in his stomach or his lungs or his heart.

What makes him and Harry so special?

♥♡♡♡♡

Louis gets a slurpee, of course, much to Niall’s hesitance. He convinces him by getting him a beer to take the edge off and promising not to tell anyone. He’s truly a great friend.

For once, they aren’t late to the wedding, either – probably having to do with Niall shouting at him to drive faster the entire ride there.

Louis tosses the two empty cups into the trash outside the chapel after Niall’s already dashed in and done some last-minute arrangements for his sparklers, to which Louis thinks is still a bit preposterous.

“I knew it,” he hears a voice huff from behind. The same huff he’d heard when he’d ‘accidentally’ bought Music & Lyrics instead of Love Actually (“Louis, they’re two entirely different movies” “They both have Hugh Grant! The only difference is that I haven’t seen one of them a thousand times, thanks to you” “Well, movie night is ruined thanks to you” “Oh, shush and look behind the bag of chips. Of course I bought it, you dolt”).

“I would’ve got one for you, but I know how squeamish you get with slurpees,” Louis hums with a coy grin, leading the way to a back entrance of the church where the groomsmen and bridesmaids are supposed to meet.

“Not fair. You forced me to finish your large slurpee and made me get on the teacups right after.  It’s not my fault I threw up, you wanker,” Harry whines with a hint of laughter because, as much as he hates to admit it, it’s one of his favorite stories to tell. “I got your new jacket all stained and gross and you wouldn’t stop grumbling at the ground – all hurt and broody looking,” he manages to blurt out through his full-on laughter.

“I’m so glad teen-version of me being upset is so funny to you, Harold, cheers,” Louis says, though there’s a grin on his face too because, okay, it’s one of his favorite stories too. “Then I didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day until you –”

“Pardon, but I believe that the bridesmaids go over there, dearie,” Zayn says politely, patting Harry’s shoulder and biting back a shit-eating grin (it’s written all over his face, though).

“Man-of-honor, thank you very much,” Harry corrects, giving Zayn a playful glare and nods over at Louis. “See you up there, Tommo. Pull one funny face at me and I won’t make you French toast for an entire month.”

“Are you trying to break my heart? Go be one with the ladies.” Louis gives Harry a light push and smirks at his little stumble. Such a child, that boy is. He goes over to join the groomsmen, where Zayn is waiting with a raised eyebrow and pointed look. “What?”

“You know what,” he says simply, winking and turning around to return to some conversation with Tom.

The bad part is that Louis knows exactly what.

The wedding starts off smoothly, not a single bump or hitch to be noted.

Since it’s already evening, the chandeliers are set on high to illuminate the entire cream-colored chapel, bouncing off and reflecting against the peach colored carnations by the alters to make everything and everyone glow this peachy, milky color. It’s quite breathtaking, to say the least, how everything seems to have a blush to it.

And of course, there’s Gemma, who looks even more beautiful and graceful than usual. She’s walking down so eloquently with Robin in arm, but all Louis can really bring himself to focus on is the way Niall’s looking at her with possibly the softest and happiest look he’s ever seen on him, let alone anyone. And, okay, Louis was never one to fantasize about weddings or dream about what his own would be like, considering he tends to distance himself from anything close to being mushy gushy, but. He’s going to be gutted if he doesn’t get a moment like this in his life – a moment where someone’s looking at him like Niall’s looking at Gemma and where everyone and everything seems to be radiating love and happiness and like the entire world is moving just for them.

Don’t get him wrong, though. He’s not mushy gushy at all.

He somewhat tunes out for the initial ceremony (which – hah, what a great best man he is), half-heartedly listening to the priest drawl on about something he’s sure Niall and Gemma are secretly eye-rolling about. He looks a little bit past Gemma to look over at Harry sticking out like a sore thumb because, well, he’s not a woman in a peach colored dress. He’s a man standing a few inches taller than the rest of the girls and wearing peach suspenders and a bowtie. Definitely not a dress. Yet he still manages to fit in quite well – looking soft and delicate and Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he worked as good as the other ladies.

He doesn’t realize he’s full-on staring until Harry pulls a sly funny face at Louis, to which Louis has to close his eyes and press his lips into a tight line to avoid reacting to.

Such a wanker he thinks, opening his eyes and nearly guffawing at the subtly hurt expression on Harry’s face. Surely he can read minds now.

They continue a somewhat facial banter until it’s time for vows, to which Louis is quick to snap back to attention.

“So – hi,” Niall starts off with a sheepish grin, looking down at where his note card is shaking in his hand. “I’ve written this and scrapped it so many times, it probably doesn’t even make sense anymore, so bear with me,” Niall says, clearing his throat and shifting his weight on his feet a bit. “Gemma. I can’t believe we’ve actually made it this far – mostly because I can’t believe you stuck along the entire time. You’ve been the best friend I could ask for. I mean – don’t get me wrong, I love my boys,” he saves quickly, shuddering out a nervous laugh when the audience laughs. “I really – they’re my boys. My lads. I don’t know where I’d be without them. They –“

Gemma politely clears her throat and gives a pursed smile, barring some teeth as she lets out a little laugh.

“Right, Gems – you’re my best friend. Really. I’ve never met anyone who’ll go get burritos with me at 4 am or listen to me play Michael Bublé songs all day or just love me like you do. When I first met you at Harry’s birthday party, I just knew you would change my life one way or another.”

Now, Louis Tomlinson does not easily tear up. He doesn’t easily get all emotional and feelsy, nor does he ever get that urge to just squeeze a pillow. But there’s Niall reciting his vows and then there’s Harry staring directly at Louis with the frog-eyed stare and a coy smile and Louis feels such an impending tug on his heart, he thinks it might just plop right out.

Harry’s attention returns to Niall and Gemma after Louis catches him, but he’s got that same secretive smile and Louis really isn’t sure what’s going on.

“So, Gems, I promise to love you like no one else. I promise to not freak out over what color you dye your hair. I promise to binge watch any dramatic show you force me to watch. I promise to rewatch Clueless with you however many times you want, even though I’ve got it down now –”

Louis has to tune out the rest of it on account of him rethinking his entire life.

Okay – so he may have some feelings for his best friend. That’s completely fine. It happens. Except it doesn’t just happen like this. He can’t just listen to a little bit of a sappy speech and realize his everlasting love for his best mate of 10 years, right? That’s impractical. This had to have been a gradual sort of thing and – fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. Has he unknowingly been falling for his best friend this entire time? Were those sharp tugs of endearment a secret way of his inside telling him this is it? How unfortunate. How humiliating. Louis could scream his lungs out if it weren’t for, y’know, the wedding in progress.

Then Gemma’s beginning to recite her vows and Louis thinks maybe he’s sort of got things cleared up and he’s okay – until Harry holds Louis’ gaze enough to nod slightly with an assured look on his face. Louis is so screwed.

As the ceremony ends, the serene nature immediately goes to dust as everyone excitedly files out and grabs a sparkler. Harry hands Louis a sparkler as they make their way out along the steps, as if they hadn’t just shared the moment of moments. They’re okay. They’re normal. They’re best friends.

Louis wills himself to push those thoughts away long enough to light his sparkler in group lighting (if that’s even a thing) and inch back against the stair case as Niall and Gemma walk out hand and hand. He’s able to push everything aside and just smile dumbly to himself because Niall’s married now and there’s cheering and sparks literally flying and he can smell a little bit of bergamot and spice and something, so he’s more than okay now.

♥♥♡♡♡

The reception is held at some pricey reception hall they’ve rented for the night and transformed into some kind of fairy light wonderland. Fucking Pinterest.

Their first dance is to a Michael Bublé cover of Put Your Head On My Shoulder, undoubtedly Niall’s influence entirely. They’ve even fiddled with the lighting to make the entire room pink with a romantic glow, somehow making the entire hall seem bigger than usual. Niall and Gemma are swaying coordinately in the middle and he’s surely not tearing up – he’s just got a bit of dust in his eye.

Harry, on the other hand, is full on crying with a pained looking smile on his face, and Louis has to do his best not to cuddle the boy then and there. They’re at a wedding, for Christ’s sake. Not everything can be a cuddle opportunity.

Louis will admit, this is all just so beautiful. Ed and Ellie’s wedding had a cool, indie vibe to it (literally in a barn in the middle of nowhere) and Zayn and Liam’s wedding was so sultry and chill (located in an aquarium, on Zayn’s request). This, though, is just so utterly romantic and light and he feel like everyone and everything is just radiating love, and it’s truthfully a bit magical.

When it comes times for the speeches, Louis manages to fuck up in the first few seconds by dropping and shattering his glass.

“Oh, jeez,” he mutters, smiling a bit that he at least could make the crowd laugh. Harry hands him his glass after giggling into the back of his hand, giving him a nod and snorting a bit at the champagne on his pants.

“Now that we’re all settled – Ni, I never thought I’d see the day when you’ve settled down once and for all,” Louis huffs with a bit of a chortle, prompting a little more laughter from the crowd. “But now that you’re married, I can’t imagine you without Gemma. There’s a saying that’s like – if you want true happiness, settle with a Styles. Or something like that. Frankly, I don’t get it, but…”

There’s more laughing – mostly on Anne’s part – and Louis’ sure he can feel Harry’s own grin burning up at him.

“Niall used to always complain about how annoying lovey dovey couples were – which I reckon is all thanks to Zayn and Li for being the epitome of sap – and how I’d have to beat him up if he ever fell head over heels for some girl and started acting all sappy, so,” Louis leans down and wraps an arm around Niall’s shoulder to stage whisper, “I’ll be seeing you after the reception, Ni.”

Niall grins and knocks heads with Louis, patting his arm and making a little kissy face up at him.

“Gemma, you make my boy here really happy. I thought I’d be the only one who could make him laugh so hard he has to lie down, but clearly I’ve got some competition now,” Louis says, feigning a somber sigh as he clutches his heart solemnly. “I wish nothing but the best for you two dorks, and I can’t wait to attend all your pretentious dinner parties and couples game nights. Cheers.”

Niall bites down on his beaming smile and stands up to pull Louis in for a proper Horan hug (which is just a very tight hug with a little bit of swaying). “You arse. I love you, mate.”

Louis can’t help but grin and hug Niall back just as tight. “Love you too, mate.”

Louis sits back down and hands Harry his drink with a bit of a smirk, giving him a wink and mouthing ‘don’t fuck up’ with a small laugh escaping his lips.

Harry rolls his eyes and knocks Louis’ knee with his own before standing up and smiling over at the crowd. “Um, hi,” Harry starts off, already getting people to giggle because there’s just something about the way he presents himself to others that gives them some kind of bubbly feeling. Or maybe that’s just Louis. “So of course Louis had to set the bar up and be all funny. Thanks for that.”

Louis raises his nonexistent glass up towards him and lets a smile peak through.

“I really don’t even know where to start because – gosh, my sister is married,” Harry says with a breathless laugh, clapping a hand on her shoulder and beaming down at her. “To an Irish lad Louis introduced me to at a pub, might I add.”

There’s more laughter, and eventually Louis kind of just loses his sense of hearing because he’s much too mesmerized by just watching Harry. How gets that glint in his eye when he’s telling a childhood story about Gemma, or how he looks down and shuffles his feet a bit when he gets the whole hall to burst out laughing. He’s kind of extraordinary, Louis realizes.

Louis gives Harry a pat on the back and beaming smile once he’s finished, wondering to himself how the hell he’s gotten so lucky to have someone like Harry in his life.

They continue on with little speeches as the servers hand out their meals, guests lining up on the stage to talk about how Niall’s turned into such an impressive young man or a story about Gemma getting drunk and confessing her love over the phone to Ed instead of Niall on accident. It’s either a sappy speech or an embarrassing story, and Louis finds it entirely interesting either way.

“We’re the last ones, y’know,” Harry hums  once they servers take their empty plates away, keeping his gaze up on the stage but clearly speaking to Louis. “All of our friends are married or in a serious relationship now except for us.”

“Is there a problem with that?” Louis asks a little defensively because it’s not like he hasn’t realized this earlier on. Once Niall had first announced his engagement, he’d spent the rest of the day wondering how the hell time had gone so fast. It was like just yesterday they 5 of them were celebrating their graduation at Harry’s dad’s bungalow. Then it was like he blinked and now he’s 26, living with his best mate while his other friends are all married. It’s quite a terrifying thought.

“No, no,” Harry says quickly, grabbing the bottle of champagne on the table and refilling Louis’ glass without him asking for it. Mind reading, is what it is. “’S just, I guess I always thought I’d be the first. I mean – that makes me sound like a knob, I’m sure…”

“It does,” Louis chimes in, bringing his glass up to his lips to hide his smile. “But go on.”

Harry glares for a moment before blinking and shrugging a bit, looking over at Zayn and Liam giving a joint speech. Of course.

“You know how I am. I eat all this sappy wedding shit up, and look at me now – sitting here with my best mate watching my other best mates move on with their lives.”

Louis frowns a bit because he’s never really thought of it (or at least wanted to think of it) like that. He doesn’t want to think about everyone moving on because that means this is all just temporary. That they’re all temporary. He shakes his head and sets his glass down carefully.

“I think we’re getting on just fine,” he hums, turning to give Harry a small assuring smile.

Harry turns to face Louis and gives him a bit of a curious look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

We’re extraordinary.

♥♥♥♡♡

Once the cake is cut and everyone’s more than halfway done with it, Zayn makes his way on stage to attend to his duties as DJ Malik (that’s a real thing Niall made a banner for. Zayn didn’t have the heart to tell him no) for the night. Ed and Ellie also have a few duets and songs planned, but that’s later on when everyone’s feeling sappy.

It’s only half an hour into the whole ‘dancing’ part of the reception when he manages to lose Harry in the crowd of people after switching partners every few seconds. Dancing at weddings is a lot more difficult than he remembered.

“Where’d Harry go?” Louis asks Lou when he sits down beside her to catch a breather, twirling a piece of Lux’s hair in his finger and grinning at her giggle. “Have to make sure the mister is staying out of trouble, after all.”

Lou grins up at Louis and looks around with squinted eyes. “He was off helping with the photo booth, I recall – oh! There he is with Nick.”

Louis’ expression automatically goes steely and he’s sure he’s clenching his fists, but he manages to smile at Lou and thank her before going over to the two working at an area besides the dance floor to set up a ‘photo booth’ (another Pinterest thing, Louis assumes).

“Hi,” Louis chirps obnoxiously, clapping a hand over Nick’s shoulder. “Can I help you with anything, mate? Here, let me take over.”

“I’ve got it,” Nick insists, leaning away and giving Louis a pointed look.

Harry’s too focused on pinning up some fabric as a backdrop to really notice, setting off to go get more material.

“What are you doing here, you imbecile? Haven’t you got anyone else to annoy?” Nick says with a tight smile, batting his eyelashes at Louis obnoxiously.

 “What are you – 40?” Louis scoffs, a bit disappointed that he couldn’t come up with a better comeback in time.

“33. Such a charmer, you are,” Nick muses, nibbling idly at his nail as he gazes over at Harry. Louis is seeing red.

“Whatever,” Louis huffs before taking a generous sip of a martini he picked up from a server walking by, fiddling around with the toothpick a bit while glaring at Nick.

Nick turns to face Louis with a blank look. “Can I help you, child?”

“Yeah. Stay away from Ha—”

“Nick! I found the extra lights!” Harry interrupts as he approaches the two, waving the fairy lights around ceremoniously. “Help me set them up?”

Nick blinks at Harry a few times and smiles warmly. “Yeah, of course,” he says, clapping a hand over Harry’s shoulder as he follows over to the photo booth area, looking back at Louis with a raised eyebrow and smirk.

“Fucking asshole twat-face –”

“Lou?” Liam interrupts.

And, oh, has he been there the whole time?

“What was that about?” Liam asks, looking a mix between concerned and calm. He’s sure Zayn has a lot to do with that.

“What was what about?” Louis asks even though today is just not his day for covering things up.

“You and Nick. Harry and Nick. You and Harry.”

Louis groans and attempts to hide away in the mini-bar, but is pulled back by his suspenders. He really wishes he didn’t wear them.

“Nothing, okay? Nothing’s going on,” Louis huffs for what seems like the billionth time this evening. “Christ, why is everyone up my arse today?”

“Harry isn’t. Not yet, at least,” Zayn muses and – okay, clearly it’s like a package deal when it comes to those two. A package deal of assholes.

“What do you two twats want me to say? I hate Nick? Fine, I do. I think he’s pretentious and dumb and he looks at Harry like a creep and – it’s annoying,” Louis mumbles, setting his drink on a nearby table to cross his arms. He needs to prove his point, obviously.

“Then why don’t you just tell him that?”

Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Not everyone is as open as you two lovebirds. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to wee.”

He doesn’t have to wee. He just needs to get away and possibly get another martini, so goes and gets a martini first. Then he goes out into the hallway anyways because he’d rather not deal with his pests of friends badgering him with questions. He’s about to walk into the restroom until he hears what sounds like Harry’s voice. Louis narrows his eyes and presses his ear against the door, narrowing his eyes even more as if that’ll help him hear.

Harry mumbles something he can’t hear very clearly, but it’s something along the lines of, “What are you saying?” Ditto.

“Harry,” he hears Nick say, which makes him clench a fist and come might close to bursting in and starting a scene. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Louis slaps a hand over his mouth and straightens up, his eyes wide and his mouth hung open.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, the same time Harry says it out loud.

Louis dashes away and back into the hall before either of them can catch him, heading straight to the mini-bar. His best friend, at the moment.

He can’t even get buzzed, though, since the only drinks are fruity margaritas or gross hard-liquor drinks that are dressed up to look sleek but frankly taste like shit. He orders another martini, despite the fact they just give him a headache, if anything.

He’s sipping gratefully at the drink until he sees Harry walking in with his eyebrows furrowed in a focused look and – shit, he’s walking to the mini-bar.

Louis ducks down and does a bit of a prowl among the crowd to get to the other side of the hall, clutching his drink closely to his chest like it’s his lucky charm.

That’s when he bumps into Nick, which.

“How very dare you,” Louis says, his voice wavering a bit with uncertainty as he stands up straight. He’s unsure if he’s trying to translate anger or hurt or authority – he supposes it’s a bit of all three. “Who do you think you are? Just – walking around… saying ‘I love you’ to my best mates,” he huffs, jabbing a finger at Nick’s chest. “Harry is a good guy and you –”

“He didn’t say it back,” Nick says, looking rather unfazed about it all and really, does this man just have two emotions? Condescending and blank? “He said he was already in love with someone else.”

Louis thinks he’s going lightheaded. That is, until he hears Harry’s voice saying his name from behind. Now he’s surely going lightheaded.

Louis is usually incredibly good at hiding things. He wasn’t constantly called ‘Tommo the Troublemaker’ for nothing during his childhood. During his first day of school, he’d managed to take two different lunchboxes, alongside a Spiderman pen and a picture book from his classroom -- walking into his household with a stuffed backpack and a smug smile without anyone ever finding out.

This though. Well, all that went to shit. It was like all the history of being sly and sneaky had melted away because he could feel his cheeks getting warm and his throat drying out and a bead of sweat roll down his forehead.

“Lou?” Harry repeats, reaching out to grasp onto his shoulder and shake him a bit and -- no. That’s the last thing he needs now. Like, on The List of Things Louis Tomlinson Needs Right Now, Harry’s hand on his shoulder is possibly number 300. Maybe not even in the book. He looks over to see Nick already off and chatting to someone else, so he’s all in this by himself. Not that he expecting Nick to be much help, or anything.

“Harry! Hey, how are ya? I’m good!” Louis says quickly, though it comes more as a yelp as he dips away from Harry’s hold and manages to utter out a bit of nervous laughter. “Great, actually. Wow, have you tried these umbrella drinks? Rather tasty.”

“That’s a martini.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Louis forces out another laugh and is so thankful that fairy lights and lanterns don’t pick up much detail because this would be the part in the sitcom where he sweats through his shirt like a doofus. He’s sure glad his life isn’t a sitcom (though it would be nice to have the guarantee of a ‘happily-ever-after’). He purses his lips tightly around the rim of the cup to buy time. Think, Tommo, think. “I’ve got to pee.”

Brilliant. Truly, Louis’ outdone himself. He scolds himself as he pushes his way through the crowd, managing to block out Harry calling for him.

“Lou, where are you going? Go get Harry and come to the dance floor with us!” he hears Perrie’s chipper voice say from behind him.

Louis internally screams and promptly makes a beeline away from the crowd and out of the hall into the hallway (hallway of the hall, if you will). He pushes through the bathroom door is utterly grateful there aren’t any dudes pissing. Perfect for throwing a tantrum.

He starts off by throwing the martini glass as hard as he can against the ground, which of course does nothing except spill and roll. Of course the glass is actually some super-form of plastic. The world hates him.

“Fine, Harry-fucking-Styles. You win! You’re right! You’ve uncovered the story! I’m actually in love with you!” he shouts out to no-one, throwing his hands up and laughing maniacally. “Tune in next week on The Tommo Truth where we uncover yet another unfortunate secret!”

Louis waits -- as if maybe there’ll be a studio audience there to applause. But when he just hears the faint sounds of music coming from the hall, he huffs loudly again.

“HEAD OVER HEELS, HAROLD. HEAD OVER HEELS,” he shouts, his voice cracking a bit at how loud he’s strained his voice. And – nothing.

And, it’s weird. This is definitely the part where Harry’s supposed to come out from one of the stalls and be like, ‘do you really mean that?’ and Louis is supposed to be like, ‘how long have you been there?’ and Harry is supposed to go up to Louis and cup his cheeks into his hands and murmur ‘long enough’ before pulling him into a kiss. That’s just how things work. Well, according to a majority of movies he’s watched about this… problem.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, climbing onto the counter and clutching his knees to his chest, just in time for Eleanor to walk in. “Hey –”

“You do know this is the women’s restroom, yeah?” she says, looking completely unfazed as she stands in front of the mirror to retouch her makeup a bit. “Also, I’ve been outside long enough to hear your little tantrum. Quite pathetic, but congrats.”

Louis opens and closes his mouth multiple times, most likely resembling a fish right now. “You – but… El, you can’t –”

“Relax,” she instructs, patting Louis’ foot with a small smile and returning to her eyeliner. “If anyone’s going to find out, it’s coming from you. Tonight, hopefully?”

“Yeah, right,” Louis scoffs, hopping off the counter to lean against it and side-eye Eleanor. “Let me just tell my best friend of 10 years that I’m in love with him. That sounds wonderful. Do you think after he rejects me, we’ll be able to maintain a distant and awkward friendship? Golly, I sure hope so.”

Eleanor huffs and puts her eyeliner away, pulling out a tube of lip gloss and glaring at Louis in the corner of her eye. “Why are you so blind to what’s in front of you?” she says simply, putting her lip gloss away and smacking a sticky kiss onto Louis’ cheekbone (he’s her personal blotting sheet, apparently).

As she leaves, he considers it. Then he considers maybe going Niall or Zayn or something, which he’s quick to shake off. (‘What’s up, Lou?’ ‘Oh, not much. Just realized you were right the whole time and I love my best mate, though haha good times!’ ‘Haha you’re such a knob head! Hilarious!’)

Louis leaves the restroom and returns to the hall, darting his eyes around cautiously as he goes to sit at his table. Of course, that’s the dumbest idea ever because where else would Harry be.

“Louis,” Harry says seriously, like he’s ready to talk business. Louis hates that voice on him. “What was all of that about?”

Louis sighs and drums his fingers against his bouncing knee. He’s not nervous. He’s far more than nervous.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Earlier with Nick. Why’d you act like that?”

Louis sucks in his cheeks and looks guiltily at the ground. He’s losing his touch completely.  “Act like what?”

“Like – like a knob head?” And ouch. That’s a bit sore on the heart. “What – is it offensive to you if someone happens to admit they love me?”

“No! It’s nothing like that, Harry, c’mon,” Louis says, finally looking up to meet Harry’s gaze. Bad idea, really, considering his eyes are incredulous and curious looking and just boring into him and he’s not sure what to do. “I just don’t like Nick.”

“Did you ‘just not like’ Matt either? Or Ben or Chris or Tom or literally anyone I show any sign of interest in?”

Louis actually has to pause and blink a few times to actually process what he’s just said. “What? You think I’m jealous or something? Quit being impractical.”

“Impractical? Me?” Harry guffaws, giving a mix of a snort and scoff. “Well if we’re throwing around adjectives, let’s talk about how irresponsible you’ve been –”

“Irresponsible? I’m irresponsible? Please, Harold, entertain me.”

“Anytime you get jealous – and yes, I’m calling you jealous – you just… avoid me. You act like it’s my fault and you don’t bother to even talk about it.”

“Jealous?! What do I have to be jealous of?”

“I don’t know, Lou. You tell me.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows and opens his mouth, but stops completely to see Eleanor going up to Niall and whispering something in his ear. ‘If anyone’s going to find out, it’s coming from you’ his ass.

Niall looks around and locks eyes with Louis, giving a bit of an amused look before nodding and grabbing his guitar as he skips up on stage to interrupt whatever pop song Zayn is playing over the speakers. Tonight, Louis dies.

“Hi, again,” Niall greets into the microphone, grinning down at everyone. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got another song. I dedicate this to Gems, of course, and a friend of mine who needs a little push.”

Subtle, Niall, real subtle.

Louis rolls his eyes when he hears the opening chords of More Than Words, possibly the most eye-roll worthy song he could hear right now. He glares up at Niall, who’s waggling his eyebrows idiotically over at Louis on stage. Louis needs to have a conversation with him about professionalism. And subtlety. And just not being a wanker.

“Hey,” a voice says behind him, and of course it’s Nick smiling meekly down at Harry. His Harry. Not going down without a fight, clearly. “Wanna dance? As friends. It’s a wedding, after all. Better make use of the dance floor.”

Louis’ eye twitches a bit as he turns completely to observe the situation happening literally right in front of him. He gives Harry an incredulous look and gets a challenging glare in return.

“I’d love to, yeah,” Harry says, following Nick to the dance floor while wrapping an around his waist. Okay, so maybe Louis deserves that.

He huffs and sits back in his seat, flicking his scowl from Nick and Harry to Niall on stage.

“More than words is all you have to do to make it real, then you wouldn't have to say that you love me ‘cause I'd already know,” Niall belts out with a scrunched up face and closed eyes, clearly having gotten into the spirit. Louis’ also sure that he says ‘him’ instead of ‘me’, but that could just be his internal crisis thinking.

And, okay. Louis understands hints when he gets them, but what does that even mean? More than words? Should he do some kind of love dance? Should he jump out of the window stark naked with Harry’s name painted on him with cake? What says ‘I love you’ better than ‘I love you’, is what Louis would like to know.

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” a voice says, scooting a chair beside him. Ugh, this is the last thing he needs. Another ‘pep talk’.

“Not in the mood, Zayn,” Louis grumbles, keeping his gaze ahead on the dance floor (burning holes at Nick’s back – not that he’d admit it).

“Do you remember when I first met Liam?” Zayn questions, and Louis snorts because how could he forget. “Straight as a bat, dating some girl who looked like a Brazilian supermodel, and clearly only using me to cheat off tests.”

“Yes, Zaynie, it’s a miracle that you two are still together,” Louis coos, taking Zayn’s margarita from his hands and sipping from it with a raised eyebrow. “Is there a point to this story that I’ve heard a million times?”

Zayn narrows his eyes a bit and knocks his knee against Louis’. “When the going gets tough, you have to just tell him.”

Louis sighs and gestures up at Niall on stage. “’m getting mixed signals here, Z. Do I tell him or not?”

“You do, but just. Not in that way,” Zayn says with a small shrug, as if he made any sense at all. Louis gives him a look and Zayn tuts a bit. “Make him know it without having to actually tell him.”

Then he’s gone. What a great source of wisdom, he is.

So there Louis sits, listening to Ellie and Ed’s voices combining beautifully to cover Sinatra.

“And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you,” they harmonize, and he’s not sure when all of his friends found out about him loving Harry (yet he’s also kind of sure it all started with Eleanor), but fine. He gets it. Don’t say ‘I love you’ but make sure he knows. Great. He’s so glad he has vague friends.

♥♥♥♥♡

He’s walking over to Harry.

He’s just requested a song and he’s walking over to Harry about to ask him to dance and never has he felt this trapped in a high school movie cliché. But that’s what this night is, really – one big, sappy, rom-com cliché.

Harry just narrows his eyes in on Louis as he approaches, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms stubbornly.

“That server just refilled my drink. Gonna go blow up on him too?”

“Dance with me,” Louis says, dismissing the chance to snap back with a reply. He just holds out his hand out for Harry and waits, probably looking like an arse.

Harry stares at Louis’ hand with uncertainty, considering for a bit before taking it and allowing himself to be guide out onto the dance floor.

“Since when do you ask people to slow dance?”

Louis shushes him and places his hand on the small of Harry’s back, lacing their fingers together in a sort of waltz position. If he’s going to be sappy, then he’s going to be sappy.

“Listen,” he orders, beginning to sway along as Sinatra’s hums fill the hall. “Don’t you recognize this song?”

Harry squints in concentration as he tries to pin down the tune, eventually melting into a dopey look and goofy grin on his face.

“Of course I do. Call Me Irresponsible, yeah? I always said if I were in a movie, this would –”

“—be the song that plays when you finally get to slow dance with Hugh Grant after he apologizes for breaking your heart earlier,” Louis finishes with a grin, rolling his eyes a bit. “I know I’m not Hugh Grant, and hopefully I didn’t break your heart or anything. But – y’know. Subtext.”

“God, it’s quite embarrassing how you remembered that,” Harry laughs, pressing back into Louis’ hand a bit. “And what exactly is the hidden meaning, hm?”

Louis tuts and nods towards the speakers, mouthing along exaggeratedly as the words are crooned out.

Call me irresponsible, yes, I'm unreliable
But it's undeniably true
I'm irresponsibly mad for you

And, of course, no slow dance in a rom-com is complete with a spin – which Louis ends up tripping Harry with on accident, but it’s a spin nonetheless.

When Louis pulls Harry back, he expects that same goofy grin splayed on his face. Instead, he’s greeted with curious eyes and parted lips and an expression that’s just deep in thought.

Well, fuck. That’s not supposed to happen, now is it?

“I – er, I just thought…”

“Is that it then? That’s why you’ve been a knob and why you’ve been staring at me like I just cured cancer all day?” Harry asks with a cocked head. “You have feelings for me?”

“Erm, you weren’t really supposed to see me staring, but –”

The rest of his words turn to mush when Harry leans down to push their lips together, removing his hand from Louis’ to wrap around his waist and hold him tight like he never wants to let go. And honestly, Louis doesn’t think he wants him to, anyways.

“You wanker,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ lips, pulling back to whack Louis’ shoulder. “How dare you keep something like this from me for so long!”

Louis snickers, a little breathless, considering his lips have been snogged off. “Right. I should’ve told you over breakfast or something. ‘Hey dude, turns out I sorta love you’ yeah?”

“Yes, Lou, exactly like that,” Harry deadpans, pulling Louis’ arms over his shoulders to go back to slow dancing. “And I would’ve been like ‘Whoa, pal. Ditto’ and then we could’ve snogged way long ago. ‘m quite offended it took this long, really. It’s like you’ve been living a lie.”

Louis huffs and hides his smile into Harry’s neck because they’ve just unofficially yet somewhat officially declared their love for each other, and it’s not as bad as he thought.

“It was worth it though, ‘cause this is quite nice,” Harry hums eventually, drawling little circles into Louis’ back with his thumbs. “Extraordinary, really.”

Louis raises an eyebrow and grins to himself, pulling back just enough to smack a kiss onto Harry’s lips. “Extraordinary,” he agrees with a short nod, resting his head back against Harry’s shoulder and inhaling.

Bergamot and musk and home.

♥♥♥♥♥