Chapter Text
“Daddy!” It was shrieked from downstairs as Liam gave up on there ever being a chance of his hair being anything more than a mess. Instead, he settled for trying to be pleased he at least had a shirt and one sock on, the other he was hopping into as he hurried down the stairs of the little town home. “We’re going to be late on the first day!”
“Yes, yes, love, I hear you. Please do not shriek like a banshee,” he begged his five-year-old, stumbling a little as he got his sock on, then grabbed his boots by the door. “Do you have your bag? And your jacket?”
“Your hair’s a mess.” Liam looked at his daughter who was staring at him pointedly and he wondered how on earth she was his child.
“I’m aware. But we’re late, remember? Bag. Jacket. Let’s go, princess.”
Harriet rolled her eyes at him, which was definitely not something he’d taught his daughter, and he hated her mother again, but only briefly. It wasn’t right to hate her, even if they’d grown apart, as it said in the divorce papers. Liam used to think he had done the right thing in trying to be a gentleman and a good guy by marrying the girlfriend he got pregnant, dropping out of uni to support them, but apparently the nice little family that he’d always wanted (although later in life) wasn’t what she wanted and somehow he’d become the bad guy in everything.
Still, there were parts of Harriet that were clearly his, like the Batman shirt she’d insisted on wearing today, though it was with her pink skirt and boots. The soft mop of curls on her head matched the little bit of his hair that was trying to curl because it wasn’t fixed. Thankfully he’d moved on from the mop of them he’d had at eighteen. Looking back at pictures they weren’t nearly as adorable on him as they were on his daughter. He shoved his boots on and grabbed his wallet and keys off the table as Harriet finished getting ready, backpack on her back and jacket on. That was him too. Her mother had always been a bit of a mess, but Harriet was as put together as her father was, at least on a good day. “Ready!” she informed him and he led the way out of their little house to the car.
The primary school was the same one he’d gone to ages ago, having opted to move back home when he was left a single father, not sure he could afford the flat in Manchester on one salary alone. Being forced to move back home had been depressing; Liam had always hoped that years away at uni would mean he’d make something of himself, but it was also familiar and his mother being around helped when Liam was at a complete loss for what to do with Harriet. It was embarrassing to admit he still relied on her, but it was the truth. He assumed he probably wasn’t the only one who’d called his mother in a panic because of a slightly high fever or a cough that didn’t sound right or just how to manage little girl tights. At least that was what he told himself when he had a sick feeling he was ruining his daughter more than helping her.
It really was a shame her mum had stated her irreconcilable differences in writing and left the two of them alone. Harriet could probably use someone who wasn’t the cause of a list that took up four pages in bullet points. It was the sort of thing that had Liam wondering if he was just an awful sort of person to be around, at least until Harriet demanded he turn up the music playing and sing along for her, eyes wide and full of pride as she listened to him sing in the car on the way to her first day of primary school.
Maybe he wasn’t bad at everything.
The shocking thing about the school was how abnormally small it felt, tables and chairs only coming up to his knees which he distinctly remembered as being full-sized and less of a trip hazard. He led Harriet into her new classroom with all the other parents, helping her find the cubby with her name on it and letting her stash her bag and jacket while he looked around for the teacher. Not spotting anyone off hand who looked particularly teacher-like, mostly a set of moms who all looked teary and one bloke with swoopy hair and bright red trousers, there wasn’t anyone who seemed to be in charge. Liam tried not to be bothered by that and focused on Harriet instead, but his daughter lasted all of five seconds before she was bounding off to chatter with a friend of hers from the neighborhood leaving him feeling a little lost. What was he supposed to do now? Leave? No wonder the moms were teary; leaving sounded painful. He’d left her alone before, but now he wanted to go back to her, scoop her up and keep her close to him. He hadn’t spotted a teacher yet. He could still leave with her.
“They do that,” a cheery voice said beside him and Liam started, turning to find the bloke with the red pants smiling at him. He was pretty up close. Older than he looked from a distance, just the lightest of laugh lines around his eyes, which crinkled more as he smiled. “It’s for the best really. The other option is crying and clinging to your leg which makes you feel worse.”
“You have one then?” Liam said, struggling to find even those words and not sure why he went with them.
“Little sisters actually and one little brother. Did the whole drop them off at year 1 for each one of ‘um. Each one was different, but there’s nothing wrong with it. She’ll be fine.”
“I know she’ll be fine,” Liam insisted, voice terser than he would have liked it to be, but who was this guy? What did he know? It didn’t stop him from wincing at the sound of his own voice though, running his fingers through his hair, just to realize it was a mess. He probably looked like a mess. “Sorry. We’ve had a morning. Do you have one in the class then?” He looked a touch older than Liam, so likely he was of a proper age to have a five year old or maybe another much younger sibling, but the bloke in the pants just laughed.
“I’ve got seventeen.” Then red-trousers guy laughed again, something Liam found far too interesting for his own good, winked at Liam and clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention. For a moment Liam panicked, terrified that something might happen that involved him, but Trousers was moving away from Liam, towards the cushions set in a circle in the center of the room.
“I think it’s time we get our day started, what do we think?” he asked, flashing his grin at Liam for just a moment before sitting on one of the cushions, tucking his feet under him. “So come on, help me wave bye to the parents and then we can do morning songs?” he asked the children who seemed drawn to him and his laugh like he was the Pied Piper, falling into spots on cushions, turning to wave farewell to their parents. Even the crying ones seemed willing to detach from parents’ legs and hands as Trousers started singing softly, some song that sounded like a nursery rhyme that Liam barely remembered. He had a lovely voice, though not in a traditional sense, just something different, which was probably why it drew him in as much as it did. Liam watched as his own daughter picked the cushion closest to those red pants smiling brightly up at her teacher (he was the teacher?) before waving at her father.
Liam stood there, rooted in his spot, staring as wide-eyed as the students, not sure what he was seeing. That was the teacher? He hardly looked like one with his hair all done and his pants the color of a fire engine. Weren’t primary school teachers mousy older ladies rather than stupidly fit men his age? Wasn’t his a mousy older lady? He didn’t realize he was staring until Trousers looked up and tilted his head, smile drooping just a little before he made a point of glancing around the room. Liam did the same and realized with a rush of heat to his cheeks he was the last parent left. Not even the crying mums had been able to stick around and yet there he was, staring at the teacher like he’d been paralyzed. Trousers just grinned more, eyes and nose crinkling up before he waved again and Liam hurried out of the room and into the hall, moving quickly so he caught up with the other parents and didn’t look like he’d been behind staring at the attractive man that was supposedly qualified to teach his daughter.
“I just wasn’t expecting someone so young,” one of the mothers was saying as he caught up to the last few parents. She was at least five years older than Liam.
“Or so handsome,” another mother added.
“There’s that too. He seemed a little too pretty, right?”
Liam wanted to agree with them, but the way they said made it sound like a bad thing. What did it matter if the teacher was handsome and young? Everyone had to start somewhere and usually handsome and young were compliments..
“Definitely too pretty. Maybe he’s one of those… Well, you know.” Liam could guess what they thought Trousers was from tone alone and he forced back a comment about that. On the list of things that really didn’t matter, that was high up there. Thankfully the mother kept talking and his chance for an outburst passed. “I was just expecting Mrs. Gordon, who I know had every right to retire, but my other kids had her and we’re used to her. These new teachers are always trying new methods. And he’s not even from around here.”
The other mother nodded and glanced back at Liam almost surprised to see him there. “Oh, Liam. What did you think?” She knew his mother, he thought, probably from some women’s group, though the town was small and it wasn’t hard to miss the single dad that had moved home from Manchester.
“He seems friendly enough. Said he has younger siblings,” he tried, not sure why he was standing up for the young teacher, but feeling the urge to do just that. “The kids like him.”
The younger of the two mothers smiled at him and patted his arm, and Liam tried not to think of it as condescending. “At least yours didn’t cry this morning. You look like you’ve been having enough of a morning, right?”
Liam was aware that he didn’t look his best, but he didn’t think he looked that bad. Apparently his shirt was more wrinkled than he thought. “I think it’ll be fine,” he added, smiling at both of them even if it didn’t go to his eyes. “What matters is that they like him and they learn something. The rest is just packaging. If you’ll excuse me, errands to run on my first morning off in a few months.” He didn’t really and was likely just going to go home and make tea and mope for a little bit before he cleaned house and waited for Harriet’s first day to be over. What he didn’t need was to be judged by the other mothers for his state and being so much younger than them. He was fine.
Not to mention the thought of them calling Trousers ‘one of those’, which he guessed meant gay or something close to it, made the space between his shoulderblades itch with annoyance. He himself had very much liked it when one of his mates had kissed him after a heated football match, just as much as kissing any girl. Even if that was something Trousers might enjoy as well, it certainly had nothing to do with if Trousers would make a good teacher or not.
He waved at the mothers as he left, hurrying back to his car and thinking he should get a proper shower in before he had to be back for afternoon pick up.
-----
After school pick up was better. He’d found a shirt that hadn’t come off the floor, something light grey and just fitted enough. He hadn’t actually picked it out, but after the divorce, Zayn had gone through his closet and made an executive decision that he needed new clothes. Something about being a hot dad on the market and, while Liam had no intention of dating, maybe he was taking advantage of the work Zayn had done. It was only to make a better impression than he had that morning and had absolutely nothing to do with the way Trousers had winked at him or smiled or any of that.
Liam parked the car and headed towards the gathering of students waiting for their parents. Trousers’ group of five year olds was easy to spot, and not just because of the bright red pants, but more that way they stood in a circle with their teacher, still singing and swinging their arms back and forth. He headed that way, smiling when Harriet spotted him and cheered out loud. “Daddy!”
He grinned at the sight of her, but even more so when Trousers’ eyes went a little wide. Once he was close enough Harriet detached herself from her classmates and leapt into his arms. He didn’t hesitate in lifting her up high, even though she was getting a touch too big for such things, leaning up to kiss her nose and make her giggle. “How was your first day, princess?”
“The best day ever!” Harriet was bouncing in his arms, squirming to get loose even as he pressed another kiss to her nose and set her down.
“Great!” He sounded as enthusiastic as she did, but how was her best day ever here and not with him? That wasn’t fair. Maybe he needed to up his game. He could ruin dinner with ice cream, couldn’t he? No, no that would make him a terrible father and he’d done enough already in running her mother off by just being himself.
“Probably not the very best day,” a voice behind him said and he turned, surprised to see Trousers there, smirking still holding hands with his circle of students. “Very best days never happen at school. You look a little different from this morning,” he added after letting his eyes rake down Liam’s figure before looking up at Liam with a grin.
“Little bit more time than this morning,” Liam admitted, running his hand over the back of his neck. No, he was not flushing, that was definitely not happening.
“Ah, you can tell. Though the curls weren’t a bad look either,” Trousers added nodding towards Liam’s hair. There was a moment where something lingered in the air between them and Liam tried to determine if he was being flirted with or if this was just normal conversation. It had been five years since he’d been flirted with and even before that he had a girlfriend. Not to mention his friends were downright ridiculous in what their definition of normal conversation was, so he was pretty sure he had no good scale to measure what Trousers was saying. In addition, he wasn’t really sure he had a good come back for it. “Oh!” Trousers exclaimed, saving Liam from having to come up with some sort of response, and extracted himself from the circle. Once sure they were still holding each other’s hands, he dug a piece of paper out of his bright red pants. “Because you were having a morning, you got there too late to sign up for snack day. You have to pick a snack day,” he said sounded very serious despite the fact that his hair had fallen a little and was now hanging in his eyes, which were the most ridiculous shade of blue and seemed to be laughing.
Liam didn’t mean to smile so big his face hurt, but it happened before he had a chance to bite the inside of his cheek and check it. “Right sure. I love snack day.”
Harriett made a face. “You hate snack day.”
“What? No. No Hattie, we don’t say hate. I never said that,” Liam said to Trousers who smirked more. And without any permission at all Liam’s mind took that somewhere else entirely, already putting that smirk in places where Trousers would be a completely inappropriate nickname. Because they’d be on the floor. He was going to hell. He was definitely going to hell for thinking that way about his daughter’s teacher.
“You did. Last spring. We were late and you said loudly, I hate snack day.” Harriet was doing her best impression of her father’s voice, which really wasn’t that far off, and Liam gave her a little bit of a look which was thankfully enough to get her to shut up for the moment at least.
“I didn’t say that.”
Trousers laughed, his eyes crinkling again, and Liam had that sense that he could spend forever making him make that face. You don’t even know his name, Liam. “Everyone says that. It’s tedious, but snacks are fun.” He bounced on his toes, the same way his students did and pointed to the page in Liam’s hand. “I signed you up for the open spots. Sorry about that, but here are your dates. I circled them for you.” He smiled again, something bright and fun and Liam felt like it was like the first sun of springtime. And apparently terrible mental metaphor inducing.
Liam was smiling back again, not saying anything, and not even realizing he was doing it until Harriet was tugging at his sleeve. “Daddy. You’re staring.”
“I’m not,” Liam insisted, shaking out of his little bit of shock and shifting away from Trousers. “I wasn’t,” he added for Harriet’s teacher, who just laughed again and went back to his little circle of students.
“See you soon, Mr. Payne!”
Liam raised a hand in a wave, but Trousers was already knee deep in five year olds, laughing at them and starting up the song again. That shouldn’t have been hot as well, but apparently it was. Liam needed to have a talking to with his brain when he got home and remind it that teachers and bright red pants were one hundred percent off the acceptable attraction list.
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“I hate snack day!” Liam had gone to the store. He’d prepared. He’d made cookies based off his mom’s recipe and let them cool overnight. He’d bought oranges to slice up to balance out the unhealthy part of the snack. He was good being prepared. He was a scout. He had everything he needed and yet for some reason, nothing was going the way it should. He’d almost cut his hand open twice cutting oranges, he hadn’t managed to do anything more than grab a shirt off his floor again, his hair was falling in his eyes and nothing was ready to go. “Hattie! Where are you?” he demanded up the stairs, trying to make the cookies and fruit fit into the containers his mother swore they would fit into. “You’re late!”
Harriet ran down the stairs and Liam could have cried at the sight of her. Her clothes didn’t even close to match, her hair was a mess, twisted up in whatever she thought was clips but really she looked more like the little girl from Wreck It Ralph or she’d gotten stuck in a confetti machine. Oh god, his first snack day and he looked like a complete wreck and his daughter looked worse. Mr. Tomlinson (which was apparently Trousers’ name) was going to hate him. Or laugh at him him. Liam wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Daddy...I can’t find my shoes.” Liam was going to cry. He really was. He nodded, smashing the lid on the cookies and hearing them crunch, but very aware that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. It was year 1 snack day. It was supposed to be simple. He was doomed for the rest of primary school if this was too much.
“Right, shoes. Honey, what did you do to your hair?” he asked, trying to tame her curls while looking under the table and then under the couch for her shoes at the same time.
“Daddy! You smashed the cookies!”
“I know, honey. I know. Here,” he said crawling out from under the couch, trying to brush the dust off his shirt. He thought his house was tidy, but apparently he was completely off base. Of course the dust on his shirt and in his hair just added to the mess he already was. “I found your shoe, get your bag, we’re already late.” He grabbed at the cases of snacks, trying to pretend that the orange slices weren’t leaking a little even though he could already feel his hands getting sticky.
By the time they’d made it to Harriet’s classroom, she was done with him in a way only a five year old girl could be, leaving his side the moment he was through the door with a huff. Her hair was still a mess, worse because he’d tried to fix it, her clothes didn’t match at all and while he was all for expressing personal fashion, he was pretty sure he just looked incapable. The oranges were still leaking, and now he was certain he smelled of citrus and he knew his shirt was sticky, same with his hands. The cookies were making that horrible rustling noise every time he shifted which meant they were seriously broken, and the moment Trousers, no, Mr. Tomlinson, approached, he wanted to sob just a tiny bit. He really was shit at this whole single parent thing. He used to be good at things. He thought he would be good at taking care of Harriet, but, apparently, not as good as he thought.
“Having another day?” Trousers asked, smile there, but his eyes glinted a little knowingly, maybe amused, maybe pity. Probably pity.
Liam was sure he looked broken because the smile on the teacher’s face faded the moment he took his eyes off his daughter. “I’m terrible at this.”
Trousers took the snack containers, eyeing them, then Liam’s hands, then made a move to set them somewhere out of the way before patting Liam on the shoulder. “How about we step out here for a moment, yeah?” he asked, hand on Liam’s elbow as he guided him out towards the hallway, snagging a box of baby wipes on the way. Liam didn’t even protest, stepping out of the room and slumping against the wall. Trousers’ smile was something sadder and Liam closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see it. “I can see why you hate snack day.” His tone was light and Liam found himself torn between being thrilled that Trousers remembered that or horrified that that was what he remembered. He hadn’t decided which when suddenly the other man was wiping his hands off for him with the baby wipes, just like he might one of his students. “Somehow you managed to get yourself all sticky.”
Liam’s eyes flew open at that, watching Trousers before blushing slightly. “It’s not the first time?” he said, making a move to take the wipe out of the other man’s hand. He could clean himself up.
Trousers raised an eyebrow at that before letting out something close to a giggle. “Alright fine. I set myself up for that.” It took Liam a moment to realize what he’d said that was so funny, but the moment he did his eyes went wide with his half meant, half not, innuendo. Of course Trousers just laughed more at that. He shook his head then regarded Liam before smiling again. “You’re not terrible at this.” Despite his smile, his tone was serious, as if he firmly believed it.
Liam had to swallow past the lump that was suddenly in his throat and shook his head. “I think I might be. I think at this rate she’s going to need therapy by age eight.”
“They all need therapy by age eight,” Trousers countered and smiled again. “You really are. You’re doing great. Everyone has days like this. Even the seasoned moms. That you’re trying, even on days like this, is a sign that you’re doing it right.” He smirked a little more then patted Liam’s arm. “You’re a great dad, Hattie’s a great girl, and snack will be wonderful.”
Liam wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he did manage a weak smile, which seemed to be enough.
“See? There you are. Already smiling again. You’re fine. Now go. We have a busy day and you probably do too.” Trousers’ smile stayed firmly in place and Liam felt his own smile coming a little easier.
“I’ll call something in? Something that’s not smashed cookies and sticky oranges? Maybe I can have it sent over for this afternoon?”
“Nope. We are fine. We’re going to be great. You’re going to be great. As soon as you get a clean shirt. Now, go on with you. Off. I swear, always lingering, Mr. Payne. You’re starting to make me think you want to be in the class and learn about finger paint.” Liam left the wall, laughing as Trousers shooed him down the hall.
“Liam,” he corrected before he got too far. “My name. Liam. Seems only fair considering we could have been in uni together. Mr. Payne is my dad.”
Trousers grinned that infectious grin that Liam wanted to write sonnets about, if of course he could remember what made a sonnet different from other poetry. “Louis then. Or Tommo, like the kids call me but without the Mr. But definitely Louis.”
Definitely Louis. Liam felt himself smile again before he nodded and started down the hall, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes trained on the steps ahead of him so he didn’t turn back and stare longingly over his shoulder.
When he arrived at school that afternoon to pick Harriet up, her hair was fixed, done in perfect little pigtails with her barrettes right where they should be and she couldn’t stop talking about cookie crumbles with a little bit of milk that had to be eaten with a spoon and oranges for a snack. Best snack day ever. When Liam glanced up at Louis the other man smiled and winked, holding his gaze for the briefest of moments before going back to talking to the other children.
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“So wait,” Niall asked, sitting down at the table with another round of beers, handing one out to Zayn then sliding the other in front of Liam. “Is Trousers the class bunny? I can’t follow this story for shit mate.”
Liam groaned and set his head down on the table, not caring for the moment if it was a little sticky. Not the first time. Oh god, he was such a cad throwing lines out there. Who did that? To an elementary school teacher! Zayn was laughing at him and his terribly unfollowable story, but at least he was reaching over to card his fingers through the hair at the base of Liam’s neck reassuringly. He loved his best friend so much. Letting out a sigh he sat up straight again and shook his head. “Trousers is him. The bunny’s...Waffles? Pancakes? Some breakfast food. I can’t remember which is worse because I almost killed it. I thought it was Bunnicula draining the vegetables dry then coming for the people next.”
“I can’t believe you remember that book,” Zayn murmured.
“I can’t believe you weren’t terrified of a vampire bunny enough as a child to not remember that book.”
“The bunny from Monty Python is scarier,” Niall inserted and both Liam and Zayn had to agree with that.
“Either way, I almost smashed it with a broom in the middle of the night and woke my daughter like some sort of madman, so that when we got to school with the bunny Monday morning, she started the morning by telling Trousers that I almost killed the bunny. And he proceeded to laugh at me the same way you are.” Both of Liam’s friends had dissolved into giggles and Liam just rolled his eyes.
“I am terrible at this. I am. You two laugh, but you should see it. He fixes her hair, he makes my trainwreck of snack day the best snack ever and he just smiles and winks like he’s made out of sunshine and perfection.”
“I thought I was the bundle of sunshine!” Niall was using his best mock offended tone, which won him a playful cuff around the ear from Zayn before the brunette pulled the blonde into a mini headlock. Niall struggled, but eventually just settled against Zayn who kept his arm lazily slung over his shoulder.
“It’s like I’m cheating at being a good dad because he’s helping and he doesn’t seem to be helping anyone else, so I have no idea why he’s helping me.”
“You’ve got it bad don’t you?” Zayn concluded, resting his head against Niall’s, sipping at his beer.
Liam thought he could say the same about his two friends from uni, but he didn’t mention it. “I need to not. He’s her teacher for god’s sake.”
“But he’s fit, yeah?” Niall asked, also working his way through his beer, though faster than Zayn, his free hand idly playing with Zayn’s fingers on the hand that was draped over his shoulder.
“Beyond fit. Gorgeous. The mothers hate him. And probably secretly love him.”
“He’s got it bad,” Niall told Zayn seriously as if Liam weren’t sitting at the same table. He finished off his beer then looked at the others. “Another round, yeah?” he asked and Liam groaned.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Niall demanded, already untangling himself from Zayn. “Your daughter is staying with her grandparents for the weekend and your best friends from uni are in town. And we walked here from your place because your hometown is tiny. There is no reason for you not to have four more beers and get real drunk instead of love drunk. I’m getting us more.” Niall jumped up from the table and headed for the bar. Zayn smiled softly at the Irishman until Liam nudged the toe of his boot against Zayn’s shin.
Zayn looked over as if he knew the question that was coming, but didn’t stop Liam from asking it. “So, things seem to have progressed from the pining stage to the touching stage.”
“They were at the touching stage a while ago.”
Liam shook his head. “This is different touching. It implies there’s more than just this kind of touching going on when you’re alone.
Zayn shrugged, somehow making it look completely nonchalant even if his eyes were saying something different. “It might be more of that. But he still...dates. Or tries to. I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s serious.”
“Not when he’s taking girls out to the cinema on Fridays just to sleep in with me all Saturday morning,” Zayn said with a sigh. “It’s not for him.”
“He followed you to London.”
“He did no such thing.”
“Yes, he did. He had no plan, you knew that, I knew that. But you said you were going and less than a week later he was going too.”
“Even if he did do that, he didn’t do it for the reasons you think.”
“I don’t think he did it for the reasons you think. Of course you could always just ask him.”
Zayn gave Liam a look. “I’m not asking him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he might say no.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Who’s he talking to?”
“You, I’d think,” Liam started, but the words fell short when he looked towards the bar. “No. No. No. No.”
Louis didn’t look anything like he did at school, but it was clearly him. The nice button ups and dress clothes that Liam had gotten used to had been replaced by a t-shirt that all but hung off of him leaving his collarbones just there for the staring at, hinting at a tattoo across his chest. His hair was tucked up into a beanie except for a small part of his fringe, drooping down over his eyes. He even looked like he hadn’t bothered to shave since for a day or so and Liam was sure that he shouldn’t be staring, but he couldn’t not stare.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Zayn asked, then let out a low whistle as Louis turned towards their table, smiling and waving at Liam. “Beyond fit is right. Well done. Though you might want to look less green, he’s headed this way.”
“Liam! Look who I found!” Liam decidedly hated Niall in that moment, but he managed to plaster on a smile.
“Trou… Louis. Fancy meeting you here,” he tried as Louis followed Niall up to the table, smile like sunshine radiating out of him.
“Well, there’s only a couple of pubs in town and this one is less likely to have parents of my students at,” Louis said, taking the seat next to Liam as Niall waved him that way.
“Except I’m here,” Liam pointed out dumbly, not sure what Louis meant by that if he was obviously here and obviously a parent of his student.
“I realize that,” Louis said. “Less likely. And at least you’re not a decade older than me, wondering why I’m not some mousy older lady.” He smiled at Liam and Liam felt his face go pink again, looking at his beer instead of Louis.
“Liam was just saying that you’ve been a big help with him being a single dad and all,” Zayn said conversationally and Liam could have sworn he put some emphasis on single. He shot his friend a look across the table, but Zayn ignored him.
“Did he now? Well, I try not to pick favorites, but Hattie’s pretty wonderful and really, if being a big help is saving snack day, or fixing barrettes then it’s nothing at all. Though you have been banned from caring from any class pets. We took a vote.” Louis was smiling at Liam again and he couldn’t help but smile back, even if he was sure he was blushing again and his mind was currently blaming it on the alcohol and how warm it was in the pub and not that stupid bright smile that Liam was falling into. Or he was falling into until someone kicked him under the table and reminded him that should speak.
“I wasn’t saying that much. I mean, yes, thank you. It does help. It’s not nothing, it’s everything and I could probably use a lot more help than I’m letting on,” Liam rambled, words tumbling out of him and he only barely stopped himself before he said something about loving Louis’ smile.
Louis’ hand though had found it’s way to his forearm and the smile had softened and Liam was pretty sure he wasn’t remembering how to breathe. “You’re doing great. Trust me. I’ve seen worse.” He squeezed Liam’s arm then turned his focus to his friends across the table. “Niall said you two were from London? Up visiting Li here?”
Li. Like they were friends. Liam was still staring at his arm, then at Louis, wondering if they were friends. He didn't’ really have friends at home. There were old classmates, but he hadn’t known many of them well, and the only ones he’d spent time with had moved away from home, just like he was supposed to have. Could he be friends with Louis? Was there a rule against parent/teacher friendships? “I’m trying to convince Zayn to move here and be better godfather,” he blurted half cutting off whatever answer Zayn was giving. Thankfully his best friend just looked at him fondly though it was Niall that interjected.
“Back up, I’m godfather. We went over this.”
“Hattie doesn’t even have one,” Zayn said, rolling his eyes, and pinching Niall’s side. “Plus he’s asking me to move, not you.”
“Well if you move, I’m moving. You know that.”
Zayn looked surprised, but managed to shake it off with a shrug. “I’m not moving up here. No matter how pitiful he looks.” He gestured at Liam who purposefully pulled his best sad puppy face which just made Zayn put his hand over Liam’s face to cover it. “Stop that.”
“It’s not as bad a place as it looks,” Louis piped in. “I didn’t think I’d wind up here, probably closer to home you know, but things worked out the way they did and here I am.”
“You move up here on your own then?” Niall asked, somehow managing to ask a slightly intrusive and personal question without seeming like he was intruding at all. There was just something about him. Since the first day he and Liam met in the dorms at uni, there has been something about Niall that drew people to him, made them want to be his friends. Liam had struggled with that his whole life. He’d been sure he was still struggling with Zayn and Niall until one night a few months after they met where they told him that he was without a doubt one of their best friends and they weren’t sure how he’d missed that.
“Ah no, drug my best mate along. He’s…” Louis looked around the pub then frowned. “Eh well he’s gone somewhere. Can’t miss him though, all arms and legs and curls. He’s working at the bakery in town at the moment, saving to open his own place.”
Liam frowned then looked over at Louis. “The one with the hair who works at the bakery?” he asked, surprise in his voice.
Louis stared at him for a half a moment then laughed and nodded. “That’s him. Why? Has he convinced you to buy stock in scones yet?”
Liam shook his head. “No, but he seems to have charmed my mother half to death. She always talks about him at Sunday dinners, showing off whatever pastry he’s convinced her to buy this week.” It was a funny story until Liam realized he’d just admitted to regularly spending Sundays at his parents’ house, which just sounded sad.
Louis didn’t seem to notice, still laughing at his beer. “Ah, that would be Harry. He’s got a knack for charming nans and mums alike. I think mine likes him more than me honestly.”
“There’s no way someone could like someone more than you.” Liam blurted the words before they had a chance to get stopped by any sort of brain filter and as soon as he said them he turned pink. He heard the tiny intake of breath from Zayn and felt the way Louis froze next to him. “I mean...it’s just...you can charm a class full of five year olds…” He really needed to not ever talk when he’d been drinking. Ever.
After a moment Louis’ shoulders unclenched and he smiled over his cup at Liam, eyes crinkling at the sides. “All it takes to charm five year olds is a love of paste, glitter, fingerpaint and singing the same songs over and over again. And all it takes to charm their fathers is a working knowledge of little girl barrettes and what to do with broken cookies.” He was teasing, Liam realized that, but instead of feeling hurt about it like he normally would, it actually made him feel better.
Niall asked a question about football, steering the conversation away from Liam and Liam lost track quickly, enjoying more the animated way Louis talked about his hometown club rather than what he was actually saying about them. After a few moments Zayn caught his eye across the table, raising one eyebrow in question, asking if Liam was doing okay. Surprisingly enough when he nodded, he meant it. Definitely okay.
Louis stayed at their table for another round and Liam couldn’t help but wonder if this was something he and Louis could do more often. He didn’t have someone to spend nights out with, someone to talk to that wasn’t Harriett or his parents, and it might be nice to do more than string his life together with phone calls from Zayn and Niall. He was strongly considering suggesting it when Louis spotted Harry and waved, jumping up from his seat. They all watched his gangly friend blink, then wave back slowly. “Ah, that’s my sign that we should go,” Louis said with a laugh. “Good to meet you,” he told Zayn and Niall then turned back towards Liam. “See you Monday. Though, actually, I need you to sign up to chaperone the field trip in two weeks. You can do all the heavy lifting and that way the children won’t laugh at me when they realize I can’t carry the box of lunches. Plus, the moms who also sign up would much rather watch you carry heavy things around than me, which will keep them from getting snippy, so it all works out well yeah?”
“Uh...yeah?”
“Great. I’ll add you to the list. See you Monday!” Louis smiled brightly then trotted over to Harry, tucking under his arm as Harry pressed his face into Louis hair. Liam watched them leave, turning his eyes back to his friends to find them staring at him.
“What?”
Zayn looked at Niall, and Niall shrugged his shoulders in a way to give Zayn room to talk. “So are there rules against banging your daughter’s teacher?” Zayn asked carefully.
“What?” Liam’s voice cracked slightly, eyes going wide.
“Just saying, you two seem...cute.”
“Cute?”
“Obviously flirting. That’s what he means to say,” Nial clarified.
“I wasn’t,” Liam insisted. “I mean maybe, but he’s not...no. I’ve been drinking.”
“He did say people would enjoy watching you carry things…” Zayn pointed out quietly.
“Mums. He said mums would, not him. He’s not...no. I couldn’t even if...no.” Liam waved them away because the idea was ridiculous. Even if he wanted to, which he was not admitting to despite his outbursts and his stupid warm feeling he got from being around Louis, he couldn’t. There were probably rules and if there weren’t rules there had to be some sort of principle or something about that sort of thing.
Niall looked at Zayn who shrugged. “Riiight. No it is then. Another round?”
This time Liam didn’t protest. Another round sounded great.
--------
Liam wasn’t at all sure what got into him, thinking he could drink like he was still in uni, like he did it regularly, but for some reason he really thought he’d be over his hangover by midday when he, Zayn, and Niall met his parents at Harriet’s football game. Sadly, he’d completely misjudged it and had snagged one of Niall’s snapbacks to pull low over his eyes to try and keep the offending sun out of them. He felt miserable, but he was here for Harriet and thankfully, her uncles were picking up the slack in the cheering department.
The kids on the field were still too small to play with any sort of real plan, mostly just running after the ball in a herd, moving from one end of the shorter field to the other, kicking wildly and not caring who was winning because in the end they all got treats like they won. It was silly, but Harriet enjoyed it and Liam figured as long as he could keep her in things he knew about, he was going to try. He was at a complete loss in her dance classes, mostly just nodding along with the other mothers and praying he had remembered to pack both of her shoes. At least out here he knew what all the terms mean and he could keep up. Well, he could when he wasn’t hungover.
He was just about to consider giving up and finding a quiet spot to sit in when Harriet broke away from the pile of children with the ball and somehow managed to dribble it a few feet before kicking it into the goal. It was the wrong goal, but it hardly mattered when they weren’t keeping score and everyone was cheering for her. Niall was jumping up and down on the sidelines, cheering like mad and even Zayn was whooping. Liam managed a few shouts himself before cringing at the sound of his own voice. It was enough though to get a wave from his daughter before she dove back into the pack of children after the ball.
“You’re raising a bit of a ringer there aren’t you?”
The voice behind him had Liam whipping around a little too quickly for his hangover, not at all sure what to make of Louis standing in front of him. Like at the pub the night before, this version of Louis clashed with the one that Liam was used to seeing at school, only instead of the messy rocker look, Louis now looked like he’d walked off of the pitch of some professional team. His messy hair was tucked back in a headband of some sort, which really, logically, should not have been attractive, but for some reason made his eyes pop even more. The uniform he had on was a little sweaty, grass stains on his socks, but everything hung on his frame perfectly, with hints of tan skin and toned muscles left and right. “I…” Liam tried for words, but nothing came out and he was sure he was standing there with his mouth hanging open like an imbecile.
“You are! Look at her. She’s incredible. I’ve now picked out her recess activity for the rest of the year. I’m gonna turn that girl into a proper footballer, eh?” Louis didn’t even seem to notice the way Liam struggled with words, elbowing him lightly with one arm then adjusting the duffle bag hooked on one shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” Liam blurted, which had Louis giving him a little bit of a look before he laughed, elbowing Liam again.
“Just finished up my game,” he said, pointing over his shoulder towards the larger fields at the other end of the park. “Made it about two days of being here before Harry threw the football at me, missing by four feet, and insisted I find other people to play with because he refused to kickabout with me anymore. Found an adult league and here I am. They call us the Rams,” he said gesturing towards the blue jersey he had on. “Apparently all the team names are American football teams because someone thought that would be amusing. At least we’re not the Patriots. That feels sort of blasphemous to queen and country, you know?”
“Right, yes. Of course.” Liam had an urge to ask just when Louis’ games were, wondering how he looked on the field. That was entirely inappropriate, at least it could be given the way his imagination immediately tried to spiral out of control. “But why here?” Liam waved around him.
Louis laughed again, but it was a softer thing this time and instead of looking Liam in the eye he ducked his head slightly. “I saw you and I wanted to say hi.”
“Oh.” Liam winced again and tried to roll his eyes at himself which just made his head hurt more.
“Too much fun last night?” Louis asked, reaching up to push at the snapback brim which Liam both adored because it was a sweet and hated because it let the sun in and made him squint which made his head hurt.
“Yes. It’s Niall’s fault.”
“Could have told you you couldn’t keep up with the Irishman,” Louis teased lightly before his voice changed slightly. “Just so long as it wasn’t mine.”
Liam was caught off guard by the softness in Louis but he shook his head before he could dwell on it. “No. Of course not.” Yes, part of why he’d had too much to drink was because of the blue eyed man in front of him and wishing he wasn’t so enthralled by everything he did, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He certainly wasn’t letting Louis take the blame for his hangover. It wasn’t like Louis had put drinks in his hands like Niall had..
“Good.” Louis smiled up at Liam which seemed to have cleared everything up, despite leaving Liam with more questions. He wanted to ask another, opening his mouth to do just that as the final whistle blew for Harriett’s game and his attention was needed elsewhere. Harriet was already caught between her honorary uncles, up on Niall’s shoulders and giving Zayn high fives from up above his head.
“She’s too big for that now, Niall,” Liam chastised, but Niall waved him away.
“No such thing.” He batted at Liam’s arm as he tried to get Harriet down, but didn’t get to it when she spotted someone over his shoulder.
“Mr. Tommo!” The shriek was one of pure excitement, her hands grabbing his way instead of Liam’s, eyes wide and curls bouncing as she bounced against Niall’s shoulders. “Did you have a game today, too?” Liam tried not to be offended that his five year old daughter reached that conclusion before he had.
“I did, just up there.” Louis grinned at Harriet, pointing the same way he had for Liam.
“Did you see my goal? Did you win?” she asked, leaning on Niall’s head and smushing his hair flat which made Zayn laugh behind his hand.
“I did see it, you were great! And of course I won,” Louis said. Liam wasn’t sure if that was the message a teacher was supposed to be displaying, that he should have said something more about how it was fun no matter who won, but apparently not Mr. Tommo.
“Of course,” Harriet agreed with him. “You look like one of the footballers my daddy thinks are cute on the telly,” she added and Liam all but reached for her mouth to cover it.
“Do I now?” Louis looked at Liam and Liam shook his head.
“I never said any such thing,” he tried to cover, but Zayn and Niall were laughing and not really helping him. “We should go.”
Louis looked like he was trying hard not to grin. He reached out to give Harriet a high five, telling her he’d see her tomorrow and elbowed at Liam. “I’ll see you, too.” He smiled once more, waved to them all then headed towards the car park.
“Sooo Mr. Tommo looks like the footballers daddy thinks are cute, huh?” Niall asked, looking up at Harriet who nodded. “Go figure that.”
“Shut up,” Liam pushed at Niall. “Just for that you don’t get ice cream.”
“What! No. You would never deny your favorite uncle ice cream, would you princess?”
Harriet shook her head and gave Liam her best puppy dog eyes. “You can’t not let Uncle Ni have ice cream. I scored a goal!” Liam wasn’t sure how that logic worked exactly, but he gave in with a sigh.
“Fine, everyone gets ice cream. Come on, let’s go.”
Niall and Harriet cheered, Niall running around with her on his shoulders ahead of Zayn and Liam who were left behind to collect their things. “He does seem to have taken an interest in you,” Zayn pointed out softly.
“Because I’m almost his age and he’s teaching my daughter,” Liam said quickly. He didn’t want to think about Louis paying attention. That was too much.
“Right. And he does look like your type.”
“I don’t have a guy type.”
“You do too. It’s like all Beckham and Christian Bale and Louis.”
Liam couldn’t even deny that. He chewed on his lip and shook his head. “Not happening.”
Zayn just nodded. “Whatever you say.” He paused for a moment then looked up at his friend. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Funny. I want the same thing for you,” Liam countered, not wanting to focus on his unhappiness. He didn’t have a right to be unhappy. He had a wonderful daughter, wonderful family, and everything else in between. He was happy. He just might have been a little lonely, but that was his fault for being so unbearable his wife left him.
“I am happy. We’re happy. It’s just unconventional.”
“Unconventional in that you’re sleeping together, but you’re not really together?”
Zayn hesitated then nodded. “Yeah. Mostly. It’s fine. We’ll sort it out. We always do. Just like you will.”
Liam wasn’t entirely sure, but he didn’t say it. “I’ll get over it. And Harriet will stop pointing out what I find attractive. It’ll be fine.”
“Whatever you say, Li.”