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As he walks into the Richard Rodgers Theatre, Harry shakes hands with this bartender, slaps that one on the back, high fives a third.
“Good to see you, Tom! And Niall, been a while! Jenna, how’s it holding up?”
“Harry! Mean Girls didn’t want you anymore?”
Harry laughs. “Yeah, Damien and I got into a fight over one of the chorus boys,” he says. “Nah, I’ll be back in a few days -- I’m just filling in for Keith. Bosses didn’t want you to be down a man.”
“I wouldn’t want us to be down a man either,” Tom says fervently. “It gets crazy here.”
“That bad?”
“It’s not bad, exactly,” Niall says. “Most of the customers are nice enough, there are just… so many of them.”
“Mmmm.” Harry grins. “As long as they tip well.”
“Oh, that they do,” Jenna says, laughing. “I just tend to tip over by the end of the night.”
“Well, well, well!” The voice is loud and cheery, and Harry spins, recognizing it instantly. “Is that the infamous Harry Styles, in my theater?”
Harry returns the greeting in kind, arms spread wide. “Is that the notorious Louis Tomlinson, in the theater I just happen to be in?”
Louis whoops, crossing the distance between them and tugging Harry into a tight hug.
It’s been a few months since they’ve seen each other, but it always feels like nothing has changed. They started working in the theater almost the same time, both starting as cleaners in the Imperial Theatre and bonding over complaining about the job or trading stories about the grossest things they’d cleaned up. They slowly worked their way up the ranks, Harry as a bartender and Louis as an usher, hopping from theater to theater and role to role.
“Gotten into any trouble while I wasn’t there to defend you?” Louis asks.
“I could ask the same of you,” Harry says. “Buy any terrible drinks from incompetent bartenders?”
“One or two.” Louis grins. “Make any terrible drinks lately?”
“Excuse you, I will have you know that I am excellent at my job.”
“I’m sure you are. As am I.”
Harry laughs. “Oh yes? How do you demonstrate your formidable ushering skills?”
Louis taps him on the nose. “I am the prince of the porcelain throne. The ruler of the restroom. The lord of the lavatory.”
Harry raises an eyebrow. “And that’s impressive?”
“Oh, it is,” Louis says. “Because under my watch, no one has ever spent the first song after intermission in the restroom. Hundreds of women every night, and they don’t miss a minute.”
Harry lets out a low whistle. “That is impressive,” he says. “Are you sure you
Louis squawks. “Are you doubting my efficacy, my integrity, my honesty?”
Harry laughs. “It just sounds a little unbelievable,” he says. “What would you say to a friendly bet? For old times’ sake? If you really can pull off this feat, like you claim, I’ll buy you -- hell, I’ll make you whatever drink you care to name.”
“And if I don’t?” Louis asks. “Not that I’m concerned, but I’d like to know.”
Harry grins. “Then you make me a drink,” he says. “Don’t worry -- I’ll show you how. But I will warn you, I have some fancy tastes these days.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re a dork,” he says. “But you’re on. I’ll see you after the intermission to collect.”
“I look forward to it,” Harry calls, as Louis walks towards the doors that are set to open any minute.
“We’d better get ready too,” Niall says, and Harry jumps. He hadn’t even noticed Niall was standing beside him. “We’ll be slammed in seconds once they start letting people in.”
“You do realize that you made a stupid bet, right?” Niall says. “Louis’ been doing this for weeks. He has it down to a science. It’s a sight to behold -- though you’ll be too run off your feet to see much of it. But he’ll win, handily.”
Harry smiles. “I believe it,” he says. “That’s the point.”
~*~*~
It is indeed quite a sight, to watch Louis perched atop a piano bench, arms waving around like a conductor, voice rising above the fray, directing the sea of humanity with practiced ease. Harry sneaks glances between drinks, though after he spills vermouth down his front he’s a little more careful with his own hands.
As the lights flicker, warning patrons to return to their seats, Harry glances over at Louis, then back at his customer, who’s smiling knowingly.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” she says. “A real charmer.”
Harry’s jaw drops before he can think to hide it. He quickly looks back to her drink, his cheeks flushing red.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” she says. “Deny it if you want. But you’re not as subtle as you think you are.” She chuckles. “Don’t worry, he’s doing the same thing.”
“What?” Harry nearly drops her drink, saving it just in time. “I mean -- I’m sorry, ma’am?”
“He keeps looking at you,” she says. “Cross my heart. Are you going to ask him out?”
Harry mulls it over. It’s not very professional, but. Fuck it. “Tonight,” he says. “After the show.”
The girl claps her hands over her mouth. “That’s adorable,” she says. “I ship it. Oh my god. Tell me how it goes.”
“I -- what?”
She scribbles something on a napkin, sliding it across the counter. A phone number. “You don’t have to, but. If you want to. I just -- it means so much to me, seeing people like us, happy and unashamed and brave.”
Harry smiles, slipping the napkin into his pocket and pushing her glass across to her. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “Thanks for sharing. Your drink. On me.”
“Oh, but I can’t-”
“No, I insist,” Harry says. “Now shoo -- the second act is starting soon. Next!”
The girl protests one more time, but as the next customer moves in, she is absorbed by the crowd. Harry sees her wave one last time, and smiles, as he turns his attention to the next person.
~*~*~
“Satisfied?” Louis says, waltzing over to Harry as the last of the patrons trickle into the theatre, the first few notes of “What’d I Miss?” carrying into the lobby from the stage.
“Impressive,” Harry says, inclining his head. “You really do blow us all away.”
“That’s what he said,” Niall mutters, barely audible. “OW!”
Louis frowns. “You okay, Niall?”
“He’s fine,” Harry says innocently. “Do you want your drink now, or at the end of the night?”
Louis laughs. “I don’t drink on the job,” he says. “After everyone leaves, then you can make me the fanciest, most expensive drink you know. Or at least, that you can afford.”
“I’ll have you know that the people here are excellent tippers,” Harry says. “I could treat you to a dozen drinks, if you were feeling adventurous.”
Louis’ eyebrows rise. “Is that so?” he says. “Well, I always do enjoy a challenge.”
Niall nudges Harry in the back. “Ask him, dumbass. OW, fine!”
“Niall certainly is clumsy today,” Harry says. “If you’re looking for a challenge, I know a few good bars in the area. Some friends who taught me a few tricks -- I could give you a tour.”
Louis’ eyebrows shoot up even higher. “Is that so?”
“It might be,” Harry says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I-” He pauses. “Niall, I love you, but could you disappear for like five minutes?”
“Oh, right.” Niall winces. “Sorry. I’ll go get more lemons.”
“Thanks.” Harry turns back to Louis. “I’d really like to take you out for a drink,” he says.
“We’ve done that before.”
“I know,” Harry says. “With friends. And it’s great. But, like. You’re great. And I’m terrible at this. But I would love to take you out for a drink not with friends. Not as friends.”
“I… oh.” Louis blinks rapidly. “Wait. Really?”
“Yes?” Harry frowns. “Is that. Surprising?”
“I mean.” Louis shifts. “We’ve always had a pretty flirty dynamic, but I could never tell if that was just you. Cause you flirt with a lot of people. And sometimes I’ve thought you were asking me out, but then it was the whole group. And then tonight I thought maybe -- but then I saw that girl slip you her number. I don’t know. I just. You always seemed kind of out of my league.”
Harry’s heart is in his throat. “I flirt with a lot of people,” he agrees, “but you’re different, Lou. And I’m sorry I invited other people along all those times -- I kept chickening out and backpedaling. If I’d known -- but I always thought you were way too funny and charming to fall for someone like me.”
Louis is smiling, nervous, tentative. “And the girl?” he asks. “Was she, like. A backup plan? Or was that just for the tips?”
“Neither,” Harry says. “I actually gave her the drink for free. That sounds bad, I’m sorry -- not flirting, I swear. I don’t think I’m her type, any more than she’s your type.” He grins. “She was just telling me I should really ask you out, because you were looking at me the same way I was looking at you. And when I told her I was, she wanted updates.”
Louis laughs aloud. “That’s a good excuse,” he says. “All right, I’ll allow it. But I will roast you substantially.”
Harry smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says. “So that’s a yes? Drinks? As something other than friends?”
Louis reaches out, twining his hand in Harry’s. “Drinks,” he says. “And then… who knows?”
Harry feigns a scandalized look. “Louis William Tomlinson, what kind of man do you think I am?”
Louis laughs. “You know what I mean,” he says. “I hope this won’t be our last… drinks.”
Harry’s eyes are soft as he looks at Louis. “Me too,” he says. “Me too.”
“Can I reappear yet?” They both jump at Niall’s voice, having completely blanked out the entire room around them. “Because y’all are cute as fuck and also y’all both have jobs to do.”
“I hate you,” Harry says mildly, not meaning it. “Fine.” He squeezes Louis’ hand. “I’ll see you after the show?”
Louis’ smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You’d better,” he says.”