Archive of Our Own

The sun is just settling into the sky above as Louis drags his feet through the uncut grass. There’s still dew hanging onto the long straws licking at his feet and the smell of dirt and morning and life brings a smile to his lips. 

So does the bitter taste of his first morning cuppa that he curls his fingers around, heating them in the slight chill of a morning in early May. Louis always feels like spring is the yearly equivalent of coming to life. Of being reborn. As the crocus start popping up like a purple band of hope at the edge of the garden and the cowslip nod their heads under the sun, Louis feels the cold seep from his bones and his lungs expand with every breath of fresh new air. 

As soon as the snow has melted away, if there was even anything but grey dreadful slush to begin with, he pops his feet into a pair of galoshes and “takes his tea for a morning walk” as Niall likes to put it. It sounds a bit mad when phrased like that, so Louis likes to think of it as enjoying the calm before the storm. The calm before Niall starts yelling and potential guests wake up with requests for maps or the best pubs the village has to offer. (There is one pub in the village to be exact, besides Quiche & Tell’s own of course, and while they have a rather lovely toffee pudding—it’s not exactly a hotspot.)

He closes his eyes for a moment and leans his head back to soak up the hint of warmth emanating from the morning sun, his nose filled with every scent that makes his chest feel less constricted, less cold and worn down. His back cracks slightly as it tends to do even an hour or so after his (by the doctor prescribed) morning stretches. 

“Louis!” Ava’s voice carries from the kitchen window and with one last deep breath he turns around to face her, giving her a small wave. “Dad is having a breakdown over the loo again.”

Quiche & Tell’s pride and joy in the form of their chef, as well as Niall’s daughter, clearly considers that information enough for Louis to return to the house, as she disappears from view. Presumably to continue cooking breakfast for the four guests currently residing at the B&B. They have room for up to fourteen guests if they bring out the extra beds, but that always feels like pushing it. Throughout the year a steady three to four guests is rather common, with down to none at times and usually around eight during the summer. 

They’re a small business with a big heart as they like to say and Louis couldn’t be happier with that fact. While he’s got a good head for numbers, he was never one of those business types. Words like expansion and exploring new arenas makes him shudder with discomfort. 

Instead of going back where he came from through the porch doors, he rounds the house like he does every morning to double check that their potted plants haven’t been eaten up by hungry visitors during the night and that the Morgan kids haven’t thrown rubbish at the front steps again. 

Leaving the soft swoosh of grass under his feet behind, the gravel crunches as he lets a hand travel over the hood of his blue Beetle. 

“Morning, old man,” he grumbles at the car before he makes his way over to its orange twin sitting next to it on the driveway. 

Him and Niall are both well aware that for the amount of driving they do, having two cars is quite unnecessary, but they can’t really bring themselves to get rid of one. Louis will never forget that afternoon, a few years after they’d bought the house and started up the business, when Niall left in the morning to go hunting for backyard furniture and came home with the biggest grin on his face, driving an orange Volkswagen Beetle. Louis had barely processed the sight before him before a blue Beetle had rounded the corner onto their road as well. “I got two for the price of one, can you imagine my luck!?” Niall had shouted and that was that. 

With flowers still intact and with no littering to take care of, Louis makes it up the front steps and through the door. Their house is grey brick with white window panes and a rather mossy roof, dating back to sometime around the second half of the 1800’s. When they bought it, it had been rather neglected by the old family who owned it, so Niall with his running mouth and Louis with almost a decade of accounting experience had managed to get it for a nifty price. By now they’ve spend the majority of the past thirty years making it into a house and a business to be proud of. 

Louis places what’s left of his lukewarm tea on the tray of cups he’s supposed to leave in the kitchen soon, and peers down the stairs that lead to the loo. Before he even opens his mouth to ask what is wrong there’s a string of cursing billowing up the creaking steps. 

“What a bloody bag of buggering cunts!” Niall’s Irish accent give the words even more of a sweet melody. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Stop the bloody profanities before nine in the morning for god’s sake!” He yells down at his partner. 

He doesn’t have to wait long for an answer. “Why don’t you get your tea-drinking-in-the-garden-prissy-arse down here before telling me what to do!” 

Louis is fairly sure that wouldn’t help since Niall is the handyman around here. Also, he’s not particularly fond of Niall throwing insults at him before he’s even properly woken up. 

He’s just about to tell him this, when the bell by the front door tinkles and the profanities he would’ve liked to yell in return die on his tongue. Tucking his lips between his teeth to keep quiet he turns around and his cheeks instantly blossom with heat. 

Walking over to the dark wooden counter is Mr. Styles from down the road, and he’s wearing a wide, dimpled grin that always makes Louis feel like the floor is dropping out from under his feet. 

“ What!? It’s your leaky pipes—” 

Louis kicks the basement door shut behind him and tries not to cringe too visibly as he smiles at Mr. Styles. 

“Sorry about that,” Louis croaks out and walks up behind the counter. “What can I do for you this morning, Mr. Styles?”

“What have I told you about calling me that?” Mr. Styles—Harry—says, his head tilted to the side and green eyes glinting just so. Louis’ mouth goes a little dry.

“Ah, yeah, you know, habits.” Louis waves a hand around. “So… brekkie?” 

Harry has lived in the village for a few months now (five months and three weeks Louis’ treacherous mind quickly offers) and comes by at least once a week to have bre akfast at Quiche & Tell . They have a few other locals that like to have Friday supper there regularly or like to come by for their (Ava’s) famous Sunday quiche, but none of them has rendered Louis a blubbering blushing mess. 

That is, until Harry. 

Before Harry, Louis lived the quiet sweet life of a small business owner in the English countryside. His life consisted of crunching numbers, heading to the next village over to visit friends once in a while, Christmases with his sisters and bickering with his definitely-not-romantic-but-still-kind-of-life-partner.  

Then one morning this… this vision of a man enters the front door and Louis’ life was turned upside down. Dressed in wide-legged trousers and a short suede jacket in December , brown curls speckled with grey and thinning at the temples, he’d looked every bit the recluse author the village had been whispering about for days. But the smile he’d worn as he introduced himself, all dimples and crinkled eyes, had rendered Louis speechless. His hand shaking Louis’ had felt soft and warm against Louis’ gardening culoused ones, his green eyes intense yet gentle.

Ever since that day, and without being even the least bit intrusive or brash, the deep timber of Harry’s voice has been enough to shake Louis to the core. Louis hasn’t felt shaken to the core for decades , especially not just at the tilt of a smile.

But here he is. Blushing like a schoolgirl because a dashing younger author, has had the gall to come crashing into his life. 

It’s unsettling and unstoppable and Louis chokes on the butterflies that want to flutter their way up his throat. 

“Breakfast sounds great, will you put it on my tab?” Harry’s now so close that he can lean on the counter, lifting his chin to peer over at Louis’ records. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Conan Doyle,” Louis says and pretends to jot something down on his notepad. For some reason he feels guilty making Harry pay for every breakfast he spends here, so once in a while he just… pretends to forget about putting it down.

Just as always, Harry lets out a barking laugh at Louis’ running joke of calling him by the name of British authors, as if Louis’ comedic genius is out of this world. It brings out the rosy hue in Harry’s cheeks that makes warmth spread through Louis’ chest though, so even if it’s embarrassing he can’t help googling “British Classics” before turning the lights out at night. Just so he can keep the joke going.

“Perfect, thank you,” Harry says warmly and starts making his way towards the dining room. 

Just as Louis thinks he’s safe, the basement door crashes open and Louis closes his eyes with regret.

“Ah, Harry!” Niall grins and walks up to him. “Would’ve given you a hug, but I think you’d rather not.” 

Harry gives him a onceover, overalls and all, and slowly—like the sun rising behind the old fruit trees in the garden—his whole face morphs into a grin. “Did you take a leak or fix it?” 

Niall cackles and Louis groans with a palm over his face to hide the way his lips twitch. Not only is Harry kind and quirky and beautiful , he’s also filled to the brim with a horrible sense of humour. 

The worst of it is, of course, that Louis happens to be pathetically and helplessly charmed by it.

“Don’t think we should have this conversation before you eat,” Niall says and Harry tries to stop giggling at his own joke.

“You’re right.” Harry clears his throat and throws a look over at Louis. “Well, yeah. So… see you tonight, Lou?” 

The way he says the nickname, all soft edges and cotton smooth, makes the heat return to Louis’ cheeks. “Yeah, sure.” 

Tonight. Harry is going to be there. Great.

Louis smiles at him because he can’t not, but the second Harry’s back disappears into the next room his smile falls and he lifts a warning finger at Niall. “ Not a word.”

Niall never listens. 

“You truly are the cutest thing this side of the river.” Niall shakes his head. “Who knew rugged men in their sixties could blush like that?”

“Shut it,” Louis says and falls into his crickety office chair. “I have work to do.” 

“Unlike the rest of us,” Niall mutters and heads towards their private quarters, presumably for a change of clothes. Before he leaves Louis alone in the entrance hallway, he throws him another cheeky grin though. “Absolutely adorable.”

Louis might actually kill him one of these days. 

---

Pub Night happens on Saturdays, granted that enough people show up and that the owners themselves aren’t too tired to be social (at least one of them usually isn’t). Tonight is a busy one, with all of their guests as well as a good part of the locals having showed up. 

Maybe it’s the folk singer duo Niall had invited that is pulling the crowd, or maybe it’s the offer of evening sun still warming up the porch that does it. Either way, their dining room is bustling with music and chatter and Louis is happily sipping an ale Ava had brought in from a local brewery a few villages over. 

Ava is busy behind the kitchen window-turned-bar and Niall is picking up empty glasses while chatting with their guests. Harry is talking to Ms. Fairweather who is one of the B&B’s yearly regulars. She shows up every year at the start of May and stays for a couple of weeks. Apparently it has something to do with her cousin’s wedding anniversary, but that sounds like a rather absurd excuse for a yearly two week vacation in Louis’ opinion. It’s a good thing it’s none of his business. 

What he does feel is at least somewhat his business, at least after one and a half pint, is the way Ms. Fairweather keeps touching Harry’s shoulder and the way Harry keeps smiling at her like she’s an utter delight. She might be, but Louis still doesn’t like it. He also can’t help thinking about how a delightful woman in her forties might be more of an interest to Harry than an old grump like him. He really doesn’t like that thought. 

“What are you moping about?” Niall interrupts his thought as he sits down in the chair next to him and Louis refuses to admit the way his heart jumps with surprise.

“I’m just enjoying the music,” Louis says and tips his glass towards the band. 

Niall scans the crowd and then his face melts into something sickeningly fond. “Oh, right. Of course.”

Louis knows it’s useless lying to Niall since Niall has been able to basically read his mind for the past few decades, but he still tries. The truth is, he’s rather humiliated by this whole thing with Harry. He hasn’t been in a relationship since his separation from Albert sixteen years ago, and the fact that he’s even thinking about it makes his cheeks flush. 

All he knows about Harry’s private life is that he’s gone through a divorce in the past year, from a woman, and that he’s settled down in the village to write a book. He also knows he’s about a decade older than Harry (eleven years and two months, to be exact), if such things still matters. Either way, the idea that Louis would somehow fit into the equation of Harry’s life feels ridiculous and so Louis tries not to entertain the idea too often. 

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” Niall asks for what is probably the hundredth time. As if it’s that easy. “He’s a really nice lad, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“ Wouldn’t mind ,” Louis sputters, the ale in his belly urging him to answer Niall for once. “Yeah, he’d probably feel sorry for me.”

“Don’t be daft, he likes you,” Niall says and elbows him softly in the side. 

As if Niall is some sort of psychic, Harry chooses that moment to turn his head and look straight at Louis with a tilted smile. Louis’ belly drops; dang it, he’s lovely. 

Niall laughs beside him and gets up to pick up some more empty bottles. “I’d set you up myself if I didn’t think I’d wake up strangled to death the next day.” 

Louis gives him a sharp look. “You’re bloody right about that, old man.”

Niall just gives his shoulder a pat and leaves him alone at the table, and Louis’ eyes slide over the crowd. Inevitably they end up landing right where they started. 

Harry is still looking back at him. Still a soft smile on his face.

---

The next morning Louis is on his knees in the dirt between the begonia pots and the herb container by the side of the house. He’s planting basil, chives, rosemary and parsley for Ava to use in the kitchen, losing himself slightly in the wonderful scent and the repetitive motion of his shovel; the sun warming his back through the fabric of his thick flannel. 

He can pick out the sound of the radio through the kitchen window, but it’s way too low for him to know what song is actually on. His brain decides it’s close enough to “Here Comes The Sun” though, so he starts humming it quietly.

“Good morning.”

With two words Louis’ heart jumps and his hand shoots up to his chest to make sure it doesn’t manage to escape.

“Jesus,” he gasps and turns to look at a sheepish-looking Harry.

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to scare you!” He’s wearing a pair of thin-framed round glasses and is carrying some sort of leather bound notebook. Over his shoulders he’s tied a blue knitted jumper and his tanned arms contrast to the white of his t-shirt. 

“Don’t sneak up on people then,” Louis says and winces at his harsh tone. 

There’s still something lingering at the back of his mind from last night. Niall urging him to try to make reality of his mindless fantasies and facing the man of those fantasies is just a bit too much before noon. 

“Yeah, that would’ve been smart.” Harry scrunches up his nose before smiling. 

Louis sits back on his haunches and pulls off his gardening gloves as he looks up, squinting towards the sun. “What can I do for you?” 

Harry looks a bit taken off guard for a moment before looking down at the planted herbs. “Was just out for a walk really, what are you doing there? Planting herbs?”

One would think that a man covered in soil, and surrounded by herb plants, is obviously planting them. Harry’s interest puts something warm in his chest either way. 

“Um, yeah, Ava uses them in the kitchen.” He explains and nods towards the back of the house. 

“That’s lovely.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence then, Louis feeling helpless because he doesn’t know what to say to this man who can probably spend hours discussing Nobel Prize winners and fancy art exhibitions. 

Louis sees himself as a simple man. An accountant turned B&B owner/gardener who enjoys Eastenders on Friday nights and having his morning tea in the garden. Nothing very fancy or interesting, but it’s what he likes.

Apparently he also likes handsome authors with big hands and warm eyes, but he assumes they don’t have that in common either. 

Louis scratches his neck, suddenly warm with sweat, and takes a deep breath. Having a chat with a neighbour shouldn’t be this hard. Shouldn’t have him trembling from the inside out to the tips of his fingers. 

“Did you like the band last night?” is what he comes up with and Harry’s smile feels like a reward. 

“Yes! They were rather lovely, weren’t they? It was a good night, good crowd right?” Harry has started moving now, slowly leaning over the begonias to inspect them. It makes Louis nervous as it brings him right up into what Louis would consider his personal space , but such a concept seems foreign to Harry. 

“Hrm, yes, very good… Saw you talking to Ms. Fairweather for quite a bit.” The words are out of his mouth before he’s even considered them. Petty and jealous and not at all what someone his age should spit out at someone as sweet as Harry Styles. 

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks down at him. “Wouldn’t say it was that much, she’s a bit... intense, don’t you think?” He’s smiling as if to make sure Louis doesn’t take offense. 

“Some would say she’s perfectly lovely, I’m sure,” Louis grumbles, as if all sense left him with the last drops of morning dew. 

Harry’s plush bottom lip gets caught between his teeth and he tilts his head. “Well, I wouldn’t know.” 

Louis swallows, cheeks heating with equal parts embarrassment and satisfaction. “Is that so?” 

He looks up at Harry, forcing himself to meet those glimmering eyes, and the look he receives in return knocks the wind out of his chest. 

“Positive.” 

Louis isn’t sure how one word can sound so warm and soft falling from someone’s lips, but here he is feeling like the word itself makes his insides thaw. 

---

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur if he’s honest. The way Harry looked at him, the gentle tilt of his voice, the way his hands clutched at his notebook—every detail of Harry’s smile and the smudge of dirt getting caught at the bottom of his trousers—all of it seems to have meticulously etched itself inside his head and refuses to leave him alone. 

Niall tries to speak to him about finally renting that spot down at the dock and Mr. and Mrs. Teal talk to him about last summer’s heat wave for surely ten minutes without him paying proper attention. 

When tea time rolls around he’s supposed to help Ava with setting the tables, but she shoos him away quickly for being too slow.

“We’ll go for a walk later, yeah? Go put your feet up for a bit,” she says and gives him a peck on the cheek. 

He does as told, heads into his and Niall’s shared TV room and watches the news before Ava comes in with a tray for him. “Don’t get used to it, though,” she says with a wink.  

She’s quite wonderful really, Louis has no idea how Niall managed to raise such a caring and thoughtful kid. Having no children of his own, Ava has always been like a daughter to him and he’s grateful he’s gotten to share all of her ups and downs. 

The scrubbed up knees from the playground, the first kiss and the following fights with her best friend. When she got into culinary school and when she left them to go to London and work at that fancy restaurant. When she had her own kids and then later decided that working with her old man wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

He happily eats his tomato soup and freshly baked bread even though he’s still rather distracted. He’s only just finished when Ava comes back, having finished her duties in the kitchen already. 

“Come on, take me for a walk,” she said and he grabs his flannel and puts his feet into his galoshes. 

---

The evening is gorgeously filled with the scent of lilac and freshly cut grass. Ava is warm against his side, their arms linked as she talks about a book she read recently. Of course that only makes him think of Harry, so he lets his mind wander as they walk down the road. 

Their village is large enough to warrant a grocery store and a house doctor, but small enough that gossip travels effectively in one afternoon. In the beginning, when he and Niall moved here from Manchester all those years ago, it all scared him. 

He thought that maybe all of him wouldn’t be able to fit here, that the harsh walls he’d been forced to put up at uni would have to be reinforced for each day that passed by. 

It wasn’t until years later, when Niall’s girlfriend got pregnant and the whole village gasped in surprise that he realised what him and Niall looked like from the outside. He’d been so wrapped up in his own worries, wondering if people would pick up on his body language or wonder about his lack of lady visitors, that he’d somehow missed the whispers and suspicious looks behind their backs. 

Niall had laughed at him, a deep cackle that lasted for minutes on end, and clapped him on the back. “Mate, everyone round here have assumed we’re a couple for years , how did you not know that?” 

Louis didn’t know and apparently Niall had thought it unnecessary to correct them, so when it turned out that only half the duo at Quiche & Tell preferred men, well… it wasn’t such scandalous news. 

They round a corner as they start heading back towards the B&B and Harry’s little cottage comes into vision. He wonders if Harry is home, if he’s perched by the kitchen table like he is sometimes in the evenings when they walk by. Smiling through the flowery curtains with a small wave that makes it hard for Louis to fall asleep later at night. 

“You don’t have to listen to Dad, you know.” Ava knocks her elbow gently into his side and he looks at her with a frown. 

“That’s rather vague, absolutely correct, but still.”

“About Harry,” she says and his cheeks flush in an instant. He hates to think he’s obvious, but she knows him maybe better than anyone. 

He turns his head away and stares at the low stone wall lining the road. 

“He’s just trying to help. He’s scared you’re lonely, but—”

“I’m not though!” Louis interrupts her. “I’ve got you, and the kids and that old grump bothering me all day, how could I be lonely?” 

“I know that, but you know what he’s like, always trying to put his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Tell me about it.” They’re getting closer to Harry’s cottage and his heart rate picks up with each step. If he’s not careful he’s going to have a heart attack before they’ve even managed to walk by.

“Just take your time, and you know if… if one day you do want to ask him, that’s alright too…” She trails off and gives him a meaningful look, making him scoff as his lips twitch. 

“Blimey, you’re just like your father, aren’t you?” 

She grins and wraps an arm around him in a half hug. “Maybe just a little bit.”

---

They’re seated in the creaky woven chairs on the back porch, tea in their hands, and Ava seemingly can’t drop the topic of his romantic life. Louis looks out over the garden, his beloved fruit trees and the flowers bowing down for the night. The air is thick from the earth warming in the sun all day, and Louis chews on his bottom lip. 

He knows he’s lucky to have her, a bonus daughter as well as a very good friend. Niall has always been his partner, his anchor and biggest support, but Ava is able to lower his defenses in a way that Niall’s brusqueness doesn’t quite manage. 

“You know Albert, why do you ask?” Louis says, even though he’s mostly just trying to be difficult. 

He was with Allie for nearly fifteen years before they separated. It had been a marriage in all ways but on paper and Louis still cherishes their time together greatly. 

They got together in their thirties, connecting over a love for flowers and a wish for a settled life, it’s just that somewhere along the way they realised maybe that’s not enough. After day-long conversations and plenty of tears shed, they finally agreed that they were better off as friends. 

Ever since, Louis has considered his love life to be at a quick decline—but not feeling too upset about it either. He already has a family and the life he always dreamed of. 

And now there is Harry. 

“Yeah, but like… you’re only sixty three, you could live for decades more—” 

“Gee, thanks for the reminder,” Louis mutters, but Ava continues uninterrupted. 

“—and don’t you think it would be nice to have someone to share those years with?”

Louis stares at her deadpan for long seconds but she doesn’t look away, only meets his stare with a contemplative look. 

“You don’t think your father is enough for one man to deal with? Your father and you and the kids and the guests and—” He waves a hand around in the air to implicate just how many people he shares his life with. 

“What about intimacy?” 

“Intima—I am not having this conversation with you!” Louis tries for stern but can’t help the laugh of disbelief that bubbles out of his mouth. She’s her father’s daughter even if the way she goes about brusqueness is through fancy words rather than cursing. 

She laughs too and lets out a groan. “Okay, but don’t you go thinking I don’t know about Dad’s love affair with that woman who shows up every Easter. He thinks he’s being sneaky when he’s all flustered and rosy cheeked for a whole week.”

“I don’t think it’s wise to compare me to your father, kid,” Louis says and points a finger at her. 

Ava rolls her eyes and sighs, sinking back into the chair and letting out an “impossible” under her breath. 

He looks at her then, her long brown hair, the freckles over her nose and the thin lines that have started to form under her eyes. He’s known her since the day she was born, and he knows she’s just trying to help. 

“He’s recently divorced from a woman, love, don’t you think I have reason to doubt he’d be interested?” His voice has grown gentle now. Gentle and maybe a bit tired. 

“Of course I have no idea about what, who, Mr. Styles would be interested in and no, it’s none of my business. But I see the way he looks at you, the way he’s always asking about you. ‘Where’s Lou? Is Lou around? How is Lou doing? Can you tell Lou I said hi?’”

Louis’ cheeks flush with heat as he listens to her words. 

“It’s just… he’s very obviously enamored with you and I don’t think he’d…  even if he turned you down, he wouldn’t be rude about it. He adores you, Pa.”

His eyes get a little blurry with the endearment and he swallows against the thickness in his throat. “I just don’t know if I’m… I don’t know if I have anything to offer anymore.”

Ava reaches over the space between their chairs and squeezes his arm. “Don’t you dare insinuate anything like that, you’re the best man anyone could ask for.” 

“You better not say that so your father hears it,” Louis chuckles and places a hand on top of hers.

“He’s alright, but I doubt he’d be interested in Mr. Styles anyways. On the other hand—who knows?” Ava shrugs and Louis frowns. “Maybe you should hurry up and snatch him before Dad works his Irish charm on him.” 

“He’d only dare.” Louis hurrumps and crosses his arms over his chest, heart beating hard at the thought of someone else trying to catch Harry’s attention. 

Maybe he is in too deep to let this go. He just isn’t sure he’s brave enough to give love another chance. 

---

As tradition has it at Quiche & Tell, when June comes around they throw a Summer Fest. It sounds a lot grander than it really is, but both Louis and Niall like a bit of fanfare. What it is, is an opportunity for them to invite their regulars and neighbours to a garden party. Ava is in charge of the grill, her kids help with the decorations, and Louis and Niall tend to the guests, making sure to fill up their glasses with punch or soda. 

They usually wait for a day with nice enough weather, and this year they seem to be lucky. The sky is blue and cluttered with puffy clouds, the darker shadows hovering a few villages over. The kids have put up garlands and balloons in the trees while Niall and Louis have spent most of the day bickering over their rickety garden furniture. 

One of the kids has already crashed from overexertion after running around in the garden and a constant intake of sugar buns, Holly Whitaker who owns the farm they get their eggs and milk from has fallen off a chair with a loud yelp, and some of the teenagers have tried to steal glasses of punch many times over. 

They’re definitely off to a great start. 

Louis is dressed in a blue button down and grey linen trousers, sporting his new tanned leather sandals that the kids convinced him weren’t “too young” for him. He’s still not sure, but no one has looked at him weirdly for wearing them so he assumes he’s fine. 

Harry looks like a dream. His hair long enough to curl around his ears and his fingers are adorned with a set of heavy rings. Louis feels like a crow for how he can’t look away from the way the keep catching the light. The bottom of Harry’s white pants are folded up to reveal his (beautiful) thin ankles. The trousers are high waisted and baggy and would probably look like a sack of potatoes on anyone else. Harry just looks like he stepped out of a 1920’s painting called Handsome Gentlemen Out on a Stroll.

It’s distracting. All of it. Harry’s honking laugh carrying over the murmur of voices and cutlery clinking against porcelain. Harry’s bare feet planted right in the middle of Louis’ morning company. Coreopsis and pansies dancing around him like he belongs right there with them in Louis’ garden. 

It’s distracting. Especially as his dimple never seems to leave, when his hand stays resting elegantly at his hip and his eyes keep finding Louis’. 

“Uncle Lou, can we go get some more crisps in the kitchen?” Greta, Ava’s nine-year-old, asks him with wide eyes. 

“Why don’t you ask your Mum?” he says with a smirk as he pats her head fondly. 

Greta frowns, not yet having picked up on subtlety, before breaking into a grin.  “She said I should ask you!”

He rubs his chin as if he’s thinking it over. “Well, I think your Mum would agree with me that you should get some food in your bellies before getting more crisps.” 

“But!” She stomps her foot and Louis pulls her into a one-armed hug with a chuckle. 

“If you get your siblings and eat some veggies, I’m sure there’s a nice surprise for you after.”

“A surprise?” Her whole face is suddenly gleaming and she runs off the second he gives her a nod.

Niall has set up a candy fishpond for all the kids after dinner, so he’s sure they’ll be happy enough. 

“How many of them are there?” 

Louis is drawn out of his thoughts by Harry’s soft timbre, and when he turns to look at him his breath catches in his throat. Close up he’s even more stunning and the green of his eyes is all the more green. 

“Of what?” Louis chuckles, caught off guard. The full glass of punch he’s had seems to fizzle warmly in his belly. 

“Niall’s grandkids? I never quite manage to know which of them are his.” Harry nods towards the throng of kids now getting in line to get some food. 

“Four of them are his,” Louis laughs. “The rest belong to the neighbours.” 

“Oh, there you go. None of them yours?” He raises an eyebrow with curiosity, a small smile playing over his raspberry pink lips.  

“Nah, Ava’s good enough to share them with me.” 

Louis remembers the thrill of everyone of them being born. Of holding their tiny bodies against his chest and whispering comforting words against their soft heads. What already feels like an endless row of birthdays, drawings to be framed and put up on the wall in his and Niall’s TV room, of days at the beach and picnics in the garden. He loves every single one of them as if they were his own. 

“That’s kind of her…” Harry trails off and looks out over the garden before taking a deep breath. “They’re all lucky to have you.” 

Louis’ cheeks flush in an instant, his eyes falling to the ground as his heart beats heavily. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Think I’m the lucky one.”

When he looks up again, Harry is looking at him with intense eyes. “I’m telling you, you’re such a lovely man.”

Harry doesn’t look away from him and Louis just stares back, not knowing what to say or how to make his brain work properly. He’s pretty sure his flush is stark against the colour of his shirt and he hopes his shaky breathing isn’t too obvious. 

“Boys! Come get some food before it’s all gone!” Niall shouts at them and for once Louis is grateful for his interruption. 

Louis clears his throat and points in the general direction of the grill. “Guess we should, erhm, yeah.” Then he sets off with quick steps.

He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks he can hear a soft chuckle coming from Harry as he follows.

---

After everyone has left except for the family and Harry, their garden looks like a rather pretty mess. Several chairs have fallen sideways from the kids running around playing, napkins are strewn around and fluttering in the evening breeze. A few balloons are starting to look a little tired and as much as they’ve eaten, there’s still heaps of food left on the serving plates. 

The kids are mysteriously nowhere to be seen as Ava packs up the food. Niall is muttering over the furniture and Harry is collecting too many glasses in his big hands. Louis is trying to be useful but he keeps looking over at the slight sunburn at the back of Harry’s neck and wondering if the skin there is hot to the touch. 

The sky is a blend of pink and purple as he’s finally managed to collect enough trash to go throw a few bags in the garbage bins by the road. He’s humming a tune that’s gotten stuck in his head and he enjoys the few moments away from everyone. He can hear their voices carry from around the back of the house and the scent of hickory still clings to his clothes, even though the rose bushes surrounding the garbage bins do a fairly good job of covering it up.

He can feel his limbs grow heavy as he throws the bags into the bin, tired from a day in the sun and chasing the kids around. There’s something else also weighing him down, something soft but heavy around his heart. 

He’s been taken with Harry ever since that day in December, when he stepped into their foyer all red-cheeked and lovely, but for a while now it’s felt different. Like it’s grown from appreciation to admiration to something else. It’s unsettling and he doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this without losing his mind. 

Of course, just as he’s started walking back towards the back of the house, Harry is coming towards him, hands tucked inside his pockets and bottom lip tucked under his cute bunny teeth. 

“Hey,” Harry greets him softly as if they didn’t just spend the whole day together. 

“Hey,” Louis says back, stopping in his tracks to say thank you for today and have a good evening . 

“Today’s been wonderful.” Harry pins him again with the serious look of his, like he wants to make sure Louis understands how sincere he is. 

Louis gives him a smile, thinking of how Harry has helped out all day, how he picks up dishes and brings out fresh salad without even being asked. “I’m glad you had a good time, you didn’t have to stay behind you know, but thank you.”

“No problem, I like helping out.” 

“Well thanks, I um... I better get back there to…” Louis walks past Harry and turns around, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he walks backwards. “…to see what needs to be done before night.” 

“Yeah, right. I’ll see you around!” Harry voice comes out a little squeaky.

“‘Course,” Louis answers and with one last picture of Harry against the pink summer sky, he turns around to head back. 

“Wait!” 

Louis’ heart jumps in his chest and he turns to look at Harry suddenly looking a lot more worked up than he did only seconds ago. He looks at Harry with raised eyebrows and waits as Harry walks up to him. 

“I was…” Harry takes a deep breath, his ring-adored fingers twisting together in front of him. “I was actually… I mean, I was meant to… I…” 

“What?” Louis asks, voice quiet and a little breathless. 

“I was wondering if… if maybe you wanted to over for dinner on Tuesday?” 

The words are rushed, but they still ring clear as anything to Louis. For a moment all he can focus on is the splotch of pink on Harry’s right cheek, not knowing which of the conflicting feelings shooting through him should win out. 

He tries to keep his features neutral, even as his heart throws itself against his ribcage. “Yeah, sure.” 

Harry lets out a breath at that and smiles wide, doing absolutely nothing to settle the rattling in Louis chest. “Great, perfect! Is six o’clock alright?”

Louis nods, suddenly feeling like the punch has gotten to his head. “Yep.” 

With a final smile and a small wave Harry turns to leave then, leaving Louis trying to figure out how his feet work all by himself. 

---

Later when the garden has been cleaned up well enough, Ava has left with all the kids and Louis is brushing his teeth in the basin by his bedroom window, his heart has finally settled down. It didn’t take long after returning to the others before a flush rose in his cheeks and he realised that his reaction to Harry request was simply ridiculous. 

Nothing about Harry’s question had suggested it was for anything other than a dinner between friends, and that awfully familiar sense of humiliation feels like needle pins at the base of his neck. 

Even now after the sun has set, he can still make out the roof of Harry’s cottage from his window and he feels pathetic for the way he can’t help picking it out every night. A roof amongst other roofs in their small neighborhood, and yet. 

He spits in the basin and puts his toothbrush away. As he pulls the sheet up over his cold feet, he tells himself firmly that he’s got three days before dinner at Harry’s. Three whole days to calm himself down and prepare for tea time with a friend. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

---

Turns out, three days is nothing when running a B&B that suddenly decides to burst another pipe, when they have three long term summer guests arriving and a whole lot of laundry to get to. Louis is busy running around, tending to guests, yelling at Niall, and carrying a crying five-year-old around on his hip until he feels like his back might crack. 

Come Tuesday afternoon, fresh out of the shower after a few hours of necessary gardening, Louis starts feeling slightly panicked. He stares at his wardrobe, on the few hangers of clothes that he deems nice enough that he almost never wears them. His regular outfits usually consist of blue jeans, flannel and sports caps to shield his face from the sun. 

When Ava, with a concerned look on her face, had asked him if he was changing before going over to Harry’s, he’d huffed at her with as much offence as he could muster. He might not be a fancy type, but he’s got class enough to dress up when he’s invited over to someone else’s. 

Of course, he still has no idea what he should wear, wavering between anger at himself for caring too much and still not being able to settle for a simple outfit of clean trousers and a t-shirt. 

Niall is leaning against the doorway, watching his every move as he combs his hair back with water and huffs at the contents of his wardrobe. 

“Thought you said it wasn’t a date,” Niall says and Louis throws a dirty look at him over his shoulder. 

“There’s nothing wrong with looking nice anyways, is there?” he asks, colour rising in his cheeks against his own will. 

“‘Course not, just never seen you this concerned about what colour you should wear for a simple dinner.”

Louis wants to tell him he’s not concerned, but instead grabs the shirt he wanted to pick from the start with a small huff. It’s a striped short sleeved shirt Ava got for him last summer, but he hasn’t found too many occasions to wear it yet. 

It has a nice high quality fabric and hangs casually over his shoulders. He pairs it together with his grey linen trousers and the tanned sandals and looks at himself in the mirror. 

The thing with clothes is that Louis knows what he likes. Knows what clothes that makes him feel good, that hug his waist (more specifically his behind) just right and shows off his strong arms nicely. It’s just that having spent the past few decades around men who decidedly never wear nice clothes , he’s not always confident he doesn’t just look silly. 

He looks in the mirror and then he thinks about Harry. About his flowy shirts and big jewelry and his chest fills with certainty. He knows he looks good, even though it shouldn’t really matter. 

“That’s more like it!” Niall claps his hands and Louis could seriously slap him. 

“You know, I’m still not so sure you had nothing to do with this whole thing,” he says and points an accusing finger at Niall. 

“I’m innocent as innocent can be! Don’t blame me for how ruggedly handsome you are, simply irresistible to lonesome men of all ages.”

Louis can’t help snorting at that, Niall’s dramatics always managing to steer his mind off of nerves and anxieties. “You’re ridiculous.”

In the hallway Ava is waiting for him as if to give him a proper send off and she gasps when she sees him. “You go get him!” 

With his heart racing in his chest, he escapes the house before she has the chance to hug him. Date or not, he’s never spent any longer stretches of time alone with Harry, and the idea of having him all to himself is both thrilling and absolutely terrifying. 

---

The walk down the road to Harry’s house is only a couple of minutes, but Louis tries to walk slowly so he has time to take some deep breaths and calm down. This of course also offers him time to overthink things even more. 

On one hand he’s got his own insecurities, Harry’s recent divorce and the general likelihood that the man of his dreams just walked in through his front door one day. He tries to remind himself of all these things, of how this isn’t a date, how Harry is probably just feeling lonely and wants someone to discuss his writing with. 

Still, at the back of his head are Ava’s words about how Harry is enamored with him, Niall’s apparent conviction that Harry wants to go out with him and Harry’s own words— you’re a lovely man. 

He swallows down the butterflies that try to escape up through his throat and raises his hand to knock on the door. This isn’t a date. It’s not. Harry didn’t ask him on a date , just dinner and—

The door opens and there Harry is, cheeks dimpled and curls soft. 

“Hi, oh, you look wonderful,” Harry greets him, slightly rushed and Louis coughs in surprise. 

“You—you do too,” he says because how could he not.

His cheeks heat up and he avoids direct eye contact by drinking in the sight before him. Harry is wearing a pants and jacket combo in a soft summery fabric over a rather tight fitting t-shirt. His skin seems to be glowing and when Louis takes a deep breath and finally dares meeting his eyes again, Harry’s eyes are sparkling emerald.

Harry waves his hand and steps to the side. “Well, welcome. Come inside!”

“Thank you.” Louis goes through the narrow hallway to the kitchen, Harry hovering behind him and talking while Louis tries to focus on breathing like a normal person. 

“I guess you’ve been inside before, right? When Mr. Johnson lived here? Umm, I haven’t changed it too much I think. Put up some cur… tains…”

Harry’s voice falters as Louis stops short at the kitchen entrance. Louis takes in the sight before him and a knot he didn’t know was held in his chest quickly dissolves.

Before him, in the tiny kitchen with the flowery curtains, Harry has set the most beautiful table Louis has seen in his life. It’s set with nice porcelain, small vases of hand picked flowers, a white tablecloth and lit candles in glinting brass holders. And what it is above all, besides beautiful and well put together—is undoubtedly, breathtakingly romantic. 

Louis’ breath comes out in small huffs, his belly roaring with flutters and his eyes tear up with a mix of fondness and relief. 

“Is it…” Harry comes up behind him, his breath ghosting over Louis’ ear. “Is it too much?”

Louis shakes his head, swallows and smiles at Harry over his shoulder. “No it’s… it’s beautiful.”

“Well I, I hope you like the food as well, I…” Harry walks past him, gesturing towards the stove. “It’s nothing much really—”

“Harry.” Louis meets his eyes and just like that something settles in him. Months worth of self doubt, of second guessing, of wondering and questioning every interaction he’s had with Harry—now he realises that Harry is scared too. “It’s all perfect, thank you.” 

Harry’s shoulders relax and his smile suddenly looks a little less frantic. Louis is told to sit while Harry puts food on their plates, a summer risotto with asparagus and pomegranate.

When Harry has poured the wine and sat down, Louis takes a deep breath and looks up at Harry with a tilted smile. The calm that has settled in his belly urges him to be honest, to let go of his fears. “I feel like I should tell you something.”

Harry eyes are wide and he holds his glass against his bottom lip, waiting to take a sip. “Oh,” he says and puts the glass down. “What’s that?” 

Louis looks at the lit candles, the care with which the napkins have been folded and lets himself be reassured by the open sincerity in Harry’s eyes. 

“I was really nervous about coming here, I didn’t… I wasn’t sure…” He clears his throat. He knows he has to do this, to settle his nerves and possibly, hopefully, Harry’s as well. Harry has gone through all this trouble and Louis doesn’t want to be any less brave. “I wasn’t sure if you meant it as a date or not, but I’m really glad you… I really like you, Harry.” 

Harry looks a little stunned, cheeks blotchy with pink, but his lips are twitching as if they don’t know to settle for a smile or a gasp. “I really like you too,” he breathes out and then his smile breaks out over his face, eyes crinkling and dimples deep.

He’s truly stunning, in the soft candle light, in a small cottage in the English countryside, just down the road from where Louis has lived for the past thirty something years. Here, like this, he doesn’t look so much like the flashy author Louis has kept picturing in his mind, but he looks… he looks like he belongs. 

Like he was made for tiny kitchen tables and herbs growing outside the window. For walks along wide fields and dinners on the back porch. Was made to fit in Louis’ gaze, glowing and pink cheeked and so utterly lovely.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Louis chuckles and looks down at his plate as he picks up the fork. “It’s… been a while for me. Just so you know.” 

“I think we’re both… perhaps, a bit new to this so. It’s alright.” 

He isn’t sure exactly what Harry means, if he’s new to men or dating or cooking dinner on a fire stove, but he doesn’t want to push. Thinks that maybe it doesn’t matter as long as they’re both on somewhat equal footing.  

Louis nods and takes a bite of the food, tongue filling with sweet fruit as he can’t stop smiling. “It is.”

---

Time seems to lose meaning as Harry starts telling him about his book, about wanting to settle down and find some peace and quiet after a life of moving from place to place and never really planting any roots. Louis tells him about how that’s what drove him and Niall to buy the B&B to begin with, even if it was a few decades earlier. 

When Louis carefully asks Harry about his divorce, Harry smiles sadly and tells him it hadn’t been a happy marriage for quite a while. That him and his wife had been moving in opposite directions for too long for it to be salvageable. Louis tells him about Allie and how in the last years they had together it hadn’t mattered if they were in the same place, because they were both somewhere else in their dreams. 

By the time the sun sets and Harry brings out pudding, Louis has started feeling a little foolish. Before tonight he’d known that Harry was kind, quirky, rather goofy and a lot of beautiful. He’d known Harry was social, but enjoyed time by himself, that he preferred pancakes to waffles and white wine before red. 

But he’d been foolish enough to think that all the things that pulled him towards Harry were somehow shallow or superficial. That they couldn’t possibly have that much in common for they had lived such different lives. But as they keep talking, as Harry tells him his plans for the garden and Louis tells him about how he used to enjoy drawing, all those differences seem like nothing but imagined excuses. 

In front of him is a man who wants and enjoys a life so similar to Louis’ own. A man who longs for that blooming warmth in his chest just as Louis does. It makes Louis feel bolder than ever before, like courage comes with every sip of wine and every glint in Harry’s eyes. 

They have blueberry pie and as Louis scrapes up the last spoon of ice cream, he doesn’t want this night to end. Wants to live in all the moments they’ve shared during this evening until he knows of nothing else. Harry’s eyes on him feel addictive, like he might disintegrate the moment he can’t look back at him over the candle lit table. The way Harry laughs vibrates through his bones and fills his veins with a comfortable buzz. 

He also knows he’s being ridiculous, truly, he does. Harry lives just down the street and he will surely see him tomorrow and if not tomorrow than the day after. He still needs to get up early to sort out some paperwork before going with Niall to finally look at some new furniture for the garden. And yet. 

“Are you sure you’re full?” Harry says, his smile mirroring Louis’ because neither of them seem quite able to stop. 

Louis laughs and rubs his belly. “Oh yeah, but thanks, it was delicious.” 

Harry picks up their plates and Louis helps out by bringing their glasses to the sink. 

“Do you want anything else? A whiskey or…?” Harry wipes his hands on a dish towel and Louis almost laughs again. He doesn’t want whiskey, but there are too many things to count that he wants in this moment and in all moments that are yet to come. 

“No, I think I better head back,” he says because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. Not linger, not make things awkward before they’ve barely even started. “Early day tomorrow.”

“Alright, of course, umm... let me follow you out.” Harry waits to follow Louis down the hall, and Louis opens the door to feel the fresh air against his face. They head out into Harry’s garden and Louis lets himself linger by the sweet briar bushes. 

The air is still warm even in the forget-me-not-blue of the summer night. Crickets sound in the ditch by the side of the road and there’s a rustle of wind in the field across from Harry’s cottage. 

Louis still feels as if silence falls over them, all sounds just whispers as Harry comes up to him, standing just a few decimeters away. Close enough that there’s a shift in the air, another body of heat and a pounding heart just in front of him. 

“I’ve had a lovely night,” Harry says, voice just above a murmur, but more than loud enough for Louis to hear. 

Louis’ breath comes out in small huffs no matter how much he tries to contain them. “Me too.” 

He doesn’t want this night to end, but since it is, he desperately wants something more to carry with him before he leaves. His hand only trembles slightly as he reaches out between them, slowly inching its way closer to find the warmth of Harry’s fingers against his. 

Louis tangles their fingers together loosely, his body humming with the feeling of Harry’s skin against his. “You’re really quite lovely, you know.” 

Harry doesn’t laugh like Louis might’ve imagined, but startles Louis with a small whine. The hand not holding Louis’ comes up to brush against Louis’ cheek, catching them both off guard and flushing their necks with heat. The touch is gone within seconds, Harry’s hand falling back against his side.

“You’re… so much.”

Flustered and trembling, Louis quirks his lips. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Harry nods and squeezes their fingers together. “Promise.”

With a final graze of his thumb against Harry’s knuckles, Louis lets him go. With one final look he gives him a soft smile and hopes that the soaring in his chest isn’t just imagined. That it is here to stay and to grow and to dance together with Harry’s sweet breath against his cheek.

“Goodnight, Ms. Brontë,” Louis says, his hand coming up in a small wave. 

Harry laughs, warm and deep and waves back. “Goodnight, Lou.” 

On the way back to the house, Louis’ feet crunch against the gravel and the wind combs gently through his hair. He breathes in the summer and finally lets his last restraint go as his face blooms into a smile so wide he gets teary eyed. 

---

By the time he’s made it up the stairs and into his and Niall’s private quarters, his body is jittery and his mind unable to focus on anything other than running round in circles. The idea of going into his own bedroom feels nothing other than daunting. 

He hasn’t felt like this in a very long time, the feeling so foreign it makes everything feel slightly surreal. Like he’s moving through a dream and any minute now he’ll wake up to another day of endless pining and longing looks thrown over hedges and across front lawns. 

So instead of heading to the left, he cracks open the door to the right, the hinges creaking just so, and he carefully makes his way over to the bed in the corner. 

Niall is snoring, soft and wheezing breaths that usually would annoy him but now only makes him smile. He bends down to push at his partner’s shoulder. 

“Niall, move over.” 

It takes a few tries, and Louis allows himself to push Niall a little harsher each time, until finally he wakes with a grunt and moves away from the hands pushing at him. Louis takes his chance and quickly lies down in the space made, nudging Niall with his hip to get him to scootch over a bit more. 

“What are you—you don’t think we’re a little too old for this?” Niall grunts at him, elbowing him in the side but then leaving him be, settling down against the pillows. 

Louis stares up at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts but they keep ending up in that one place that feels so terrifying and all consumingly wonderful all at once. 

“Niall…” He whispers into the darkness. “I think I’m falling in love.”

There’s a moment of silence before Niall scoffs at him. “Of course you bloody are.” With that he grabs Louis’ hand and turns, forcing Louis to curl up against his back, arm wrapped over his chest. “Now go to sleep, you adorable old man.” 

Louis wishes he had something clever to bite back, but his heart his still running wild and nothing is able to calm him down quite as effectively as the scent of Niall’s pine tree soap. He lets his nose press into the back of Niall’s shirt and closes his eyes, wondering what kind of day he’ll wake up to tomorrow.

---

He wakes up to an empty bed and the sun blinding him through the slats of the blinds. It’s unlike him to sleep through something as unsubtle as Niall getting out of bed, but he stretches out against the soft sheets and is soon greeted by a wild fluttering in his stomach. That ridiculous smile is instantly back over his face and he gets up, only stumbling a little as he makes his way over to the window. 

He opens the blinds and squints at the sun glaring down at him, letting his eyes adjust before he’s finally able to make out the chimney on top of Harry’s roof. Noting with a strange sort of satisfaction that he can see more of Harry’s house from his own bedroom window, but right now he’s happy enough just knowing that over there, just down the road, Harry might be making his morning cuppa. 

He might get seated by the table they shared last night and he, just like Louis, might feel like a garden that has just started to bloom.