Chapter Text
“Right lads, I’m heading on home before I miss the bus,” Louis announced as he necked the last of his pint and set his glass carefully back down onto the table. “Zee, I’ll see you bright and early at the shop in the morning. Li,” he paused, “well, I was going to say look after him, but I think you’ve got that covered,” he smirked.
“Fuck off, Tommo,” Zayn muttered, more interested in his boyfriend’s lips on his than the tipsy ramblings of his best friend. “See you tomorrow, don’t get knocked over by a cyclist.”
“That was one time,” Louis immediately protested. “And I was very drunk. So was the cyclist,” he huffed and muttered to himself. “Tell your mates one thing and they have to keep dragging it up every five seconds.”
He stood up to put his jacket on, then aimed a salute at Zayn and Liam.
“Bye Lou,” Liam smiled. “Go safely. Text when you get home.”
Louis’ smile softened affectionately. As much as their sickeningly overt displays of coupleness annoyed him at times, the unwavering loyalty the pair had for him was undeniable, and he was increasingly grateful for it with every passing day.
“Will do,” he assured them. “Don’t miss the last tube.”
With a final wave, Louis weaved his way through the mass of bodies to the door. He shivered as he stepped out onto the street; a short glance at his phone was enough to assure him that there was time for a quick cigarette on his way to the bus stop.
He pulled the packet from his pocket and lit one up while he walked, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the snow that had settled on the pavement. It was nearly Christmas, which meant it was nearly Louis’ birthday too, and he was always excited for this time of year. The only downside was the increased number of bodies that seemed to fill the streets and public transport. It made his life more stressful when, as far as Louis was concerned, everything should be completely relaxed and carefree. It was about time people were more organised, he was often heard declaring. Christmas is the same time every year, so why are they always so surprised by it? Louis himself was the exception to this rule – it wasn't unheard of (and often expected, if he’s honest) for him to be one of the many rushing around for last-minute gifts, despite Christmas Eve being his birthday.
But, for once, there was still two weeks to go before Christmas and he was completely done with his shopping and wrapping. He had also already posted the presents for his mum and sisters up to Doncaster, a whole ten days before the last posting date.
He groaned internally as he approached the bus stop. There were at least seven people waiting, in varying degrees of sobriety; from the staggering bloke taking a piss against the pole with the timetable attached, to the young girl with her pierced nose firmly in a book while the sound of tinny pop leaked from her earphones.
With a sigh Louis skirted around the drunk to reach the end of the line and take his position. He scowled a little at the ground – the number of people waiting suggested the bus was going to be packed, which meant he would likely be standing. He hated standing on buses, but the walk from the tube wasn't as much of an appealing option when the bus stopped right outside his flat.
He stubbed his cigarette out and dropped the butt into the provided bin just as the bus rumbled and hissed to a stop. Louis pulled his Oyster card from his pocket as he followed the line of people onto the bus, where he audibly groaned at the sight of no seats and people hanging onto straps down the middle.
“Move down through the bus,” the driver harshly snapped out a demand over the tannoy. “There’s plenty of room, show some consideration for others.” He continued to mutter under his breath, his frustrated mumbling and swearing just audible over the speakers.
Louis rolled his eyes at the driver’s lack of manners, but followed on down the centre and reached up for the overhead strap when there was nowhere further to go.
“Why is it such bad etiquette to ask for a lap to sit on when it’s so busy?” he pondered aloud, a little sulky at the thought of standing for the whole of the twenty five minute journey to his flat.
“Um, you, uh, you can sit on mine?” a low voice stammered out beside him.
Louis looked around in surprise, partly because no one ever responded to his mumblings as a rule, but also because someone had actually accepted his suggestion. His eyes widened further as he took in the stranger.
Big sparkling green eyes, a shy smile with a hint of a dimple in one cheek, luscious, pink plump lips, all surrounded by a mass of chocolate curls that hung easily past the person’s shoulders.
“Uh...” Louis stuttered. He blinked quickly as he realised that staring at the boy was probably a bit creepy. “Um, sorry,” he tried, his voice cracking a little. “W-what was the question?”
“I said, you can sit on, um, mine?” he offered with a gesture to his lap. “I-If you wanted? I mean, um,” he paused. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been listening to you.” He flushed a bright scarlet. “Please, I'm not a creep, I promise.”
“Okay, calm down Curly,” Louis said gently, unable to stop the tender look that crossed his face. “Let’s not pull anything.” He looked from the boy's face to his lap and back again with a raised eyebrow. “Are you serious? I'm not exactly a featherweight. There’s a reason my ass is the size it is.”
“You can’t be that heavy,” Curly shrugged.
“Well, on your head - or rather, lap - be it then,” Louis smirked as he took a step closer and turned to sit sideways on the stranger’s lap. “So, now that we’re up close and invading personal space, how about an introduction?”
“M’Harry,” came the immediate response. “Harry Styles.”
“Are you serious?” Louis raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a real name. Are you a porn star or something?”
He started as Harry let out a loud guffaw of laughter, nearly squashing Louis on his lap as he bent forward slightly, before he slapped a hand over his mouth, his face an even darker red.
“I’ve never done that before,” Harry giggled. “Oh, and I’ve never been asked if I’m a porn star.”
“Well, it was porn or rock,” Louis admitted. “I just thought porn was a more interesting suggestion.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Harry grinned. “But no, I’m just a baker. No porn.”
As Harry’s laughter calmed down to a quiet snicker, he casually slipped one hand around Louis’ back, the other resting across his lap to keep him in place as the bus lumbered around tight corners.
“Shame,” Louis sighed as he looked Harry over. “You’ve definitely got the looks for it.”
“I – uh, um,” Harry spluttered. “Th-thank you? I think...”
“Definitely a compliment, I assure you. I have plenty of experience in these things.”
“You’re a porn star??” Harry’s eyes were wide as he stared.
“What? No!” Louis scrambled around to try and correct himself, while his cheeks flushed as brightly as Harry’s had previously. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it, it’s quite a profitable career.” He flushed harder. “From what I’ve heard, I mean! I’ve never...” He sighed heavily. “This is going completely shit.”
“How about we start again?” Harry suggested and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Harry Styles, I’m twenty, from Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, I have a cat called Dusty, and I’m a baker.”
“Louis Tomlinson, twenty-two, I’ll be twenty-three soon though, from Doncaster in Yorkshire, I have five younger sisters and a younger brother, and I work in a graphic bookstore,” Louis smiled as he shook the offered hand.
“Graphic bookstore? Y’mean comics?” Harry asked, his head tilted as Louis cringed.
“Comics sounds so juvenile,” he sighed. “I prefer to call them graphic novels. But yes, a comic bookstore. The one behind Regent Street. My best friend owns the place with his boyfriend. I just work there. And I, of course, improve the ambience and atmosphere with my mere presence.”
“Of course,” Harry chuckled. “I love that place – Zayn’s, right?” He grinned at Louis’ nod. “I go in there on my lunch break sometimes. I work in Edith’s Bakery around the corner.”
“How have our paths never crossed before, Curly?” Louis asked, completely flabbergasted. “This must be some cruel game that Fate is playing with us.”
“Maybe we were supposed to meet on the bus?” Harry shrugged. “You were supposed to sit on my lap for a massive amount of time because we were stuck in Christmas traffic, and we were supposed to have discussions about porn and our respective work.”
“Fate is a very shady lady,” Louis said darkly. “I hardly look my best right now. I’ve just come from the pub, it’s ridiculously hot in here and I think my hair’s going fluffy.”
“Your hair is lovely, and you look amazing,” Harry assured him. “I have seen you around a few times. You’re usually teasing Zayn and avoiding work,” he finished with a smirk.
“Lies, it’s all lies,” Louis declared. “I work my ass off for that place.”
“Clearly not,” Harry snickered as he made a show of looking first at Louis’ bum and then back up at his face again.
“Hey!”
Their flirty banter continued on in the same vein as the bus progressed slowly through the traffic, neither of them really aware of their surroundings or the other passengers, a few of which were sending pointed glares at the pair when their laughter got a bit too raucous.
“Oh shit!” Louis suddenly exclaimed as he eventually dragged his attention away from his new acquaintance to realise that the bus was virtually empty, including the seats either side of Harry and himself. “I’ve missed my stop,” he quickly counted in his head and rubbed a hand over his face. “Six stops ago. Fuck.”
“Oh,” Harry said softly. “That sucks.” He appeared deep in thought for a moment. “How about we get off at the next one, and get a taxi back to yours? Split the fare? Then I can stay in it on to my place.”
“A taxi?” Louis looked at him incredulously. “In this part of London? At this time of night?”
“We might get lucky?” Harry suggested in an attempt at positivity. “Or, uh, there’s the bus going back?”
“No, that’s stopped running,” Louis sighed. “I’ll have to walk.”
He waited for the bus to pull over at the next stop, and carefully stood up from Harry’s lap. He gripped the pole tightly with one hand and turned at the door to say goodbye. Louis snapped his mouth shut in confusion as he realised that Harry had stood as well, ready to follow him off of the bus.
“Oh, this is my stop,” Harry explained. “Not being weird.” He gestured for Louis to alight before the bus driver got impatient and pulled off again. He then followed him out onto the cold pavement, where he pulled his coat tighter around his body and ducked his nose into his scarf. “I live just down the road.” He pointed in the direction the bus had just noisily trundled down. “You can call for a taxi there, if you’d like?”
“I don’t know,” Louis replied doubtfully. “I should just walk. I’ll warm up soon enough. And I can’t really afford a taxi. It’s fine, mate, really. I’ll be alright.”
“Let me at least grab you an umbrella,” Harry insisted. “In case it snows again. You don’t want to get a cold right before Christmas. I won’t make you come in.”
Louis looked between Harry and the road he had to return down and back again before he sighed.
“Fine, Curly, you’ve got me,” he relented. “I’ll borrow a brolly. It’ll ruin the girls’ Christmas if their big brother’s bundled up in bed instead of building badly formed snowmen with carrot penises on Christmas Day.”
“Carrot...” Harry started before he burst into a loud peal of laughter, bent at the waist again as he doubled over, unable to contain his mirth and not seeing Louis’ smug look. “H-How old are your sisters?” he managed to get out.
“Lottie’s sixteen going on thirty, Fizzy’s thirteen going on twenty-five, the older twins, Phoebe and Daisy, are ten,” Louis stated proudly as they started to walk towards Harry’s home. “The younger twins, Ernest and Doris, they’re not even one yet so they won’t really care about snow – it’s too cold to eat.” He sighed. “I’m not actually seeing them on Christmas. Zayn wants the shop open between Christmas and New Year, so we agreed that I’d do those days so that he can go home to Bradford and then onto Wolverhampton with Liam. And then he’d cover it for me to go home for New Year.”
“So you’ll be in London on your own for Christmas?” Harry asked, his eyes wide.
“Yeah, looks like it’ll be me, a microwave meal for one, and the Queen’s speech at 3pm,” Louis said in a forcibly cheerful voice.
“You should come over to ours!” Harry blurted out.
Louis stopped dead in the middle of the pavement, staring at Harry incredulously.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice low and uncertain.
“That came out so wrong,” Harry sighed. “I just... I love Christmas, okay? And I’m not going home either – my stepdad’s taking my mum away on a cruise, and my sister’s boyfriend has whisked her off to Lapland, I think he’s planning on proposing, so I’m staying here with my housemate. He’s not going home because there’s been a huge falling out and he doesn’t want to get in the middle of it.” Harry bit down on his lip as he realised he’d been rambling. “Sorry. Too much information.”
“It’s okay,” Louis said weakly. “I just... I hadn’t considered doing anything? I figured everything would shut down over Christmas, so I’d just lounge around my flat and do nothing. But, uh.” He swallowed hard as his thoughts raced wildly.
“I cook!” Harry added quickly. “I mean, I’ll be cooking a proper Christmas dinner; turkey with all the trimmings. I’ve got my Christmas cake and pudding already made. There’ll be crackers and charades and plenty of alcohol – Niall’s taking care of that. He reckons no one can organise booze like an Irishman.”
Louis let out a soft laugh.
“How can I refuse an offer like that?” he asked rhetorically. “You don’t seem like the axe-murderer type, and you did let me sit my big bum on your lap for nearly an hour.” He eyed Harry, with his ridiculously large and hopeful smile, for another beat. “Alright Harold, you’ve worn me down. I’ll come spend Christmas with you and your leprechaun.”
He jumped a second later as Harry let out another of his loud barking laughs, doubled over at the waist and slapping at one knee.
“Are you okay there?” Louis asked, trying to hide his amusement behind a façade of concern.
After a few moments, during which Louis did seriously consider worrying about the giggling man beside him as he was nearly turning blue and verging on hysteria, Harry eventually managed to get himself under control, breathing hard and wiping under his eyes while still maintaining an impossibly wide grin.
“I’m fine,” Harry insisted breathlessly. “God, you’re hilarious.”
“It’s Louis, but thank you,” Louis grinned. “C’mon, Curly. It’s gonna be next year before I’m home at the rate you’re going.”
“I can’t walk fast at the moment,” Harry explained with an apologetic look. “I’m not exactly the most graceful of people. I always seem to find that one patch of ice that hasn’t been salted, then I end up on my ass in the slushiest pile of snow possible.”
Louis looked the man beside him up and down, taking in his long torso and gangly legs, with pigeon-toed feet encased in a pair of beaten up boots, and shook his head slowly.
“Harold, in those shoes, with those feet, I’m surprised you manage to make it safely out of your own home,” he declared.
“Well…” Harry started.
“Oh good god, I was joking!” Louis exclaimed as he carefully shoved Harry into the wall they were walking alongside.
The pair continued along the path, chattering easily about whatever came to mind, bouncing off of each other as they compared their childhoods, their high schools, their college experiences, and how they both moved to London for university, Harry to study for his Diplôme de Pâtisserie at Le Cordon Bleu, while Louis attended the University of Greenwich to get his BA in Drama.
“So, you’re an actor?” Harry asked, surprise evident in his voice.
“Ha! Trying to be, mate,” Louis chuckled. “Yes, technically. The comic store pays the rent and keeps me fed, but not really my end game. I’m an auditionee, mainly.” He paused for a moment to eye Harry critically. “And you, studying at that posh cooking place, but you’re working in a bakery? As a glorified counter assistant?”
“Heyyy,” Harry protested weakly. “I bake all of the bread and cakes we sell, too. Edith’s looking to retire soon, and hopefully I’ll be able to take over the place then. I want to turn it into a proper pâtisserie then. Fill it with mille feuilles, and profiteroles, oh, and I want to offer a catering service, high end, for weddings and christenings and birthdays. I’d provide, like, croquembouches, and wine, and cheese - because no party is complete without smelly cheese, obviously - and, like, cakes. I really want to make cakes.”
“You’re really into cakes, huh?” Louis asked, his voice soft with his smile.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded quickly. “I love having the freedom to show off my creativity. There’s very little I haven’t attempted with cakes.” He paused for a moment and tilted his head to one side, obviously in thought. “And like I said, I like bread too.”
“Bread?” Louis raised an eyebrow. “Like, making it?”
“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. “It’s very calming. The kneading.”
“You’re good with your hands then?” Louis smirked, looking at Harry suggestively, before bursting into laughter at Harry’s bright red cheeks.
“I -- um, I, uh,” Harry sputtered and stammered, trying to find the words to formulate a coherent sentence.
“Don’t have a coronary, mate,” Louis snickered. “I was just joking.” He ambled along a little further. “However, I must ask, considering it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, why exactly we’ve passed that post box for what is now the third time. Are we lost?”
“Um,” Harry blushed brightly. “I, uh, um.”
“Not that I’m actually in a rush,” Louis added, taking pity on his companion. “Just wondering if I will ever feel my toes again. If you want to spend more time with me, then I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I may have been prolonging this,” Harry reluctantly admitted. “I wasn’t sure how this was going to end. I didn’t want it to be awkward. But obviously, I’ve made it awkward by trying to avoid it being awkward.” He huffed out a frustrated breath. “Sorry. I’m just here.”
He turned into a gateway not far from the post box Louis had noticed, jogging up the few steps and pulling his keys from his pocket. Harry fumbled through the keychain, nearly dropping the large bundle a couple of times before he found the right one, sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open.
“Uh,” he turned back to Louis uncertainly. “Did you want to come in now? I can fix you a Thermos to take back with you? I mean. Um.”
“That would be lovely,” Louis said gently. “I wouldn’t turn down a hot cuppa to start off, either. If that’s not too presumptuous?”
“No, no,” Harry replied quickly. “Not at all. Come in!” Harry stepped over the threshold and over to the side, gesturing for Louis to enter and pass him. “The living room’s through the first door on the right. Kitchen straight on down the corridor. Loo, if you need it, is the door under the stairs. Oh, um, can you take your shoes off first though, please? Trying not to wreck the carpets.”
“Sure thing,” Louis agreed easily, pausing to kick his Vans off onto the pile of shoes, and shrugging out of his jacket, adding it to the hooks on the wall above. “Kitchen straight ahead, you say?”
“Yes,” Harry nodded while he reached down to unbuckle his boots. “There’s plenty of room to sit. I’ll be there in a second.”
Louis flashed a bright smile, tugging the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands, before he walked down the corridor and pushed open the door at the end. He felt on the wall for a light switch, flicking it down and illuminating the room. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the shiny room, one side full of seemingly brand new appliances, a large island separating the cooking area from the dining area, which consisted of a solid oak table and four matching chairs.
“Gorgeous set up you’ve got here,” Louis informed Harry as he followed his guest inside. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks,” Harry murmured, ducking his head with a blush. “My family all pooled together to pay for it after I graduated. Before I got the job at Edith’s. They wanted to make sure I had the proper equipment to keep my hand in, and not get rusty.” He paused for a moment, his hand on the kettle. “I also think they were interested in the freebies that I was posting up to them on a regular basis, but I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt about that one.”
“I’m sure it was just a fortunate side effect, Curly,” Louis nodded. “Of course, if you have any interesting or tasty nibbles going spare, then I’m not going to refuse.”
“Cheeky,” Harry chastised him, filling the kettle with water from a filter jug and setting it back on the stand, his finger flicking the switch down. “Don’t you realise that it’s polite to wait for these things to be offered to you?”
“I was brought up with the philosophy ‘if you don’t ask, you don’t get’,” Louis shrugged. “Plus, I’m an impatient little shit and I’m hungry.” He smiled brightly at Harry, his eyes crinkling at the edges as it relaxed into a genuine smile within seconds.
Harry watched him for a moment, before he shook his head in amusement as he crossed the room to the large walk-in larder.
“What do you fancy?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled.
“Whatever you’ve got going,” Louis replied agreeably. “I’ll eat anything, so long as I don’t have to do anything to prepare it.”
“So,” Harry leaned back so his head was out of the larder. “You’re basically saying that you don’t cook anything yourself?”
“You’re looking at someone who managed to burn the bottom of a pan when trying to boil water,” Louis told him solemnly.
“What?” Harry blinked. “I… How?”
“I have no idea,” Louis shrugged. “Me Mum weren’t sure whether to be angry or impressed.”
“I think I’d have the same problem,” Harry told him, stepping out of the larder with a large cake box in his hands. “Okay, we’ve got…” He lifted the lid. “Croissants, pecan and honey pastries, almond danishes, or…” He lifted a piece of greaseproof paper. “Oh, there’s a couple of jam doughnuts left too.” Harry looked at Louis. “What’s your poison?”
“Well, Harold, firstly I’m hoping there is exactly zero poison in those cakes,” Louis told him firmly. “And secondly. All of them. I want to sample all of your products. But I’ll start with a doughnut, please.”
“Coming up,” Harry nodded. “And a cup of tea on the way. How do you take it?”
“Just a splash of milk please, no sugar,” Louis stated. “Don’t ruin a perfectly good brew.”
Harry hummed in acknowledgement as he pottered around, fetching mugs and teabags out of one cupboard, small plates out of another, and a teaspoon and knives from a drawer. Within a few minutes, they were both sat at the table, the cake tub between them with a pile of napkins within reach, and two large steaming mugs of tea, picking up their discussion as though there’d been no break.
“So, Louis Tomlinson, from Doncaster, with a Drama degree and a job in a comic store,” Harry continued. “Is there anything else you feel that I, as a new friend, and the person with whom you will be spending this Christmas, should know about you, before I let you into my heart and home?” He flushed as he realised his choice of wording.
“Well,” Louis smiled, deciding to go easy on his new companion and let that one go. “If I hadn’t come to London for uni, I probably would have been working to get signed by my local team.”
“Signed?” Harry frowned slightly, taking a sip from his mug.
“Yeah, Doncaster Rovers Football Club, mate,” Louis nodded. “I played for the juniors, but got accepted into Greenwich before they could think about putting me in the main team.”
“With my knowledge and understanding of the football game, I feel like I should be a lot better at football,” Harry huffed with a small pout. “But, I’m a bit clumsy. I usually go in goal whenever me and Niall go for a kick about in the park.”
“Obviously you’ve been receiving sub-par coaching,” Louis declared. “Give me three weeks, Curly, I’ll make an all-rounder of you.”
“Good luck,” Harry chuckled, before he drained his mug and stood up. “Many have failed previously,” he warned Louis, as he crossed the kitchen to put the kettle on again, and then rummaged in a cupboard for a flask. “There’s been injuries and everything.”
“Well, maybe we’ll keep you out of cleats until you’re steady on your feet,” Louis said warily. He paused to watch Harry for a moment. “Okay, Harold, what are you doing?”
“Huh?” Harry looked around. “Oh, I’m making up a flask of tea for you to take home, like I said outside. So you don’t get cold on the way.”
“You are quite the gentleman, Mr Styles,” Louis told him. “You know how to make a man feel appreciated.”
“Well,” Harry started, as he dropped a couple of teabags into a jug. “I was brought up very well by my mum. She’ll be happy to hear that I’m getting complimented for it.”
“Then the compliments should go to Mama Styles,” Louis stated. “Not yourself.” He tutted. “Taking credit for your mum’s hard work. You’re letting yourself down now, Curly.”
“She’s Mama Twist, but you’re right,” Harry chuckled. “She definitely deserves the credit. I’d be nothing without her.” He poured hot water into the jug, then fetched the milk while it steeped for a while. “Things were tough when I was a kid. Mum and Dad split up when I was about eight. So it was just me, Mum and Gem for a short while. She married someone else, but that didn’t work out. So there was another divorce when I was ten or so. She met Robin when I was twelve, through work. But she kept him at a distance, as a friend, for years. They got married when I was eighteen. Robin’s definitely Mum’s soulmate. He’s amazing, and she’s blissfully happy, and good god, I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” He blushed and ducked his head, fishing the teabags out of the jug quickly.
“Hey,” Louis stood and moved to Harry’s side, gently touching his hip. “It’s fine, babe. I like hearing about your family.”
“Yeah, but I take forever to say anything,” Harry muttered. “I talk slow and my voice is sleepy.”
“Wanna know a secret?” Louis murmured against Harry’s shoulder, causing the latter to look at him quizzically. “I love listening to you speak. It’s like… hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day. Or… hot toffee sauce on an ice cream sundae. It’s beautiful, like you.”
Harry stopped as he was about to pour the tea into the Thermos, and stared at Louis with his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide, as his cheeks pinked up even more.
“You…” his voice cracked slightly so he cleared his throat to try again. “You think I’m… beautiful?” he asked, his tone awestruck.
“Yeah,” Louis agreed. “You are, Haz. Incredibly so.” He smiled softly as the tips of his ears reddened, the only outward sign of his own mild embarrassment. “Your eyes, your curls…” he paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on a certain part of Harry’s face. “Your lips,” he finished in a murmur.
“Oh…” Harry breathed out slowly, visibly swallowing as he flicked his tongue out over his lips. “Th-Thank you…?” His voice rose uncertainly.
“Of course,” Louis replied. He gave the other man a bright smile and stepped back slightly. “Sorry, I don’t really believe in personal space. Probably got something to do with my two best mates being together.” He paused. “Not that I’m with them too. It’s not like that. I just mean, like, I’m used to them always cuddling. And I’ve been on my own for a while now. So, when either of them have been away for work, whoever’s left is good for cuddles. And sometimes they let me join in anyway.” His eyes widened. “With the cuddling! Nothing else! Oh god.”
“Have you finished?” Harry asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Yes,” Louis huffed and folded his arms over his chest, pursing his lips in a pout.
“Good,” Harry nodded and poured the tea into the flask, fastening the lid on firmly. “How about, before either of us embarrasses ourselves any further, you get on home. We both have work in the morning, and it’s getting late.” He glanced at the clock on the oven with a slight frown, the display subtly showing ‘23:42’ in red. “As it is, I’m not happy about you going back outside. It’s supposed to snow again at midnight.”
“C’mon, Curly,” Louis nudged him. “When are the forecasts ever right?”
“When we don’t want them to be?” Harry suggested. “Okay, I’ll walk you to the end of the road at least. The main roads will be salted anyway.”
“You really are a gentleman,” Louis smiled.
Harry blushed again and grabbed the flask off the counter, not saying a word until he’d opened the front door and stepped outside, after helping Louis on with his jacket.
“So,” he started, as he walked down the front path.
“Yes, Harold?” Louis prompted.
“Um, I dunno,” came the stuttered reply.
“This really doesn’t need to be awkward,” Louis assured him gently.
“I’m sorry,” Harry blurted out. “For making it. Awkward, I mean.” He huffed, his breath visibly curling in the air in front of him.
“It’s okay, really. It’s not.”
Louis watched as Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Biting his lip, he took a nervous half-step closer as they walked along the pavement, allowing their arms to brush against each other. He kept his gaze focused on the road ahead, but felt Harry’s sideways glance as their knuckles touched. When their fingers caught on an upswing together, he held his breath slightly and then relaxed again when Harry didn’t pull away.
All too soon, they reached the end of the road where they stopped to look at each other. Louis glanced down at the warm fingers between his, giving them a gentle squeeze before he let go with a warm smile.
“So, Curly,” he started. “I hope you’re planning on giving up your phone number before I head off. I really don’t want to have to start searching the streets of London, asking anyone and everyone I meet if they’ve seen a curly-haired baker with huge green doe-eyes. I might end up getting arrested.”
“Oh, right,” Harry looked surprised, but rattled off his mobile number easily, then smiled as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket when Louis called him. “I’ll text you when I get back inside.”
“And I’ll text you when I get home,” Louis nodded. “Don’t want you worrying that pretty curly head of yours.”
“You really have a thing for the curls, don’t you?” Harry asked, his tone touched with amusement.
“Curls and dimples, babe,” Louis agreed easily. “I’m a sucker for each of them, and you’ve got them both. Throw in that deep husky voice of yours and, well. You’re a triple threat, mate.”
He grinned as Harry threw his head back with a loud barking laugh, which echoed around the dark and quiet streets, only muffled when Harry slapped a hand over his mouth. Louis watched him fondly, feeling hopelessly endeared by the long and lean man in front of him. His thoughts drifted a little, as he considered how quiet (read: non-existent) his love life had been since he arrived in London. Well, he corrected himself, ever since he came out, if he was completely honest with himself. He’d had a few one night stands, even a semi-relationship that had lasted a couple of months, but only really consisted of a series of hookups two or three times a week. Being the only out gay man in a relatively small community, even in a large town like Doncaster, had been a harrowing experience, and he still bore more than a few emotional scars from the abuse he’d received during that time. He’d started to think that because of that, he was broken, unable to find someone to stand beside him through life. Which was really starting to suck, because he wanted that. Wanted a husband, wanted kids, a house, a dog, the whole nine yards.
And now… Well, meeting Harry that evening seemed to be Fate, Destiny - something damn important with a capital letter at the beginning. He’d never felt such an immediate connection with someone before. They’d spent the past three hours talking non-stop, and he felt that in that short time, Harry probably knew him nearly as well as Zayn and Liam did, and he’d met them on his first day at uni, four years before.
His gaze didn’t falter as his thoughts fired off on various tangents, but he was so wrapped up in them he didn’t notice as Harry’s expression turned quizzical.
“Um, Louis?” Harry’s hesitant voice eventually broke through. “Is… Is everything okay?”
“Hmm? Oh! Sorry Harry, I got lost somewhere,” Louis smiled brightly. “Didn’t mean to do that.”
“Okay,” Harry looked uncertain for a moment, before he held out the Thermos of tea. “If you’re sure. Uh. It’s getting colder, so… I’m guessing you’re gonna want to be on your way?”
“Definitely right,” agreed Louis, accepting the flask with a cheeky wink. “Thank you very much for your hospitality, Haz. It was great meeting you, and this, um,” he paused, his cheeks pinking up a little. “This evening’s been amazing,” he continued in a softer tone. “Maybe I’ll see you before Christmas?”
Harry lit up with a huge smile that showed off his dimples at full wattage as he stood up straighter. Louis couldn’t help but return the grin, wide enough that his eyes crinkled at the sides, and he could almost immediately feel his cheeks starting to ache.
“That’d be brilliant,” Harry said quickly, nearly stumbling over his words. “You can come in the bakery, or I can bring some pastries around to the shop? I’ll bring enough for your friends too. Just let me know when you’re there? I’ll even give you a discount,” he added, cheekily raising his eyebrows and making Louis laugh.
“There’s no need for discount,” Louis giggled out. “Or delivery. I’ll come in on my break tomorrow morning. But now, I’d better head home, so I at least get a few hours of sleep.”
“Sounds like it might be an idea,” Harry mused. “I have to be baking by 7am.”
“Oh god, Haz, go!” Louis shooed him back towards his flat. “I’ll see you soon.” He stretched up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek, causing both of them to blush, but stepped back before things could get too awkward. “Go. Sleep. Sweet dreams.”
“Make sure you text me when you’re home,” Harry said firmly. “I won’t be able to relax until I know you’re okay.”
“Yes sir,” Louis saluted, starting to walk backwards away from Harry. “I definitely promise to do that.”
He blinked a moment later as a flake of snow fell in front of his nose, landing on the path in front of him, and shortly followed by a few more.
“I told you it was going to snow,” said Harry triumphantly. “Put that umbrella up, for God’s sake, else there was no point you having it!”
“Alright already, now go home, Styles!” Louis called out as he fiddled with the umbrella, eventually getting it open and holding it over his head, before he turned and walked away.
Louis hid a smile in his collar as he heard one last ‘bye!’ from behind him as he walked quickly but carefully along the street. He would normally have put his earphones in and listened to music as he walked, but considering the late hour, so close to Christmas, for safety’s sake he decided to listen to the death-like silence that the snow created around him. He kept up a good pace, only pausing for a moment to juggle the umbrella and flask so he could reach the tea, still hot and just to his taste. He let out a low hum as he continued his journey, the tea warming him up and giving him enough energy to speed up a little.
Less than an hour later, he unlocked the main front door of his building after he shook the snow off the umbrella and shut it down. His steps were slow and heavy as he walked up the stairs to his third floor studio flat, tucked under the eaves of the old Victorian house. It wasn’t much, but it was his, and his alone, for a sizeable monthly rent. Louis shut his door firmly behind him and slid across the security bolt, before he collapsed face first onto his bed.
He reluctantly dragged himself back up to take care of his pre-bedtime routine. He brushed his teeth and remembered to rinse out Harry's flask, before he put it with his clothes selection for the morning. He grabbed his phone as he climbed into bed properly and opened up his text messages, starting a new thread.
Louis grinned as his phone buzzed almost immediately with a reply. After reading it, he set his alarm and placed his phone back on his bedside table and settled down to sleep, his thoughts full of the bright-eyed man he’d met that evening.