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This party is not going at all how Niall had planned.
I mean, everyone seems to be having a good time, and the decorations are spot on (thanks to Harry), and the selection of beer is on point if he says so himself. Zayn has made a playlist of Christmas songs that weren’t too obnoxious, and people are dancing and drinking and just bursting with holiday fucking spirit.
Well, everyone but Niall.
He and the lads had just finished on the X Factor, gutted after taking third place. They knew it wasn’t the end, not by a long shot, and swore to remain as close as they had been in the X Factor house. Liam had suggested a Christmas party (albeit a much tamer version, Niall is sure), and Harry had gotten permission from his stepdad to host it at the bungalow.
And that’s how Niall finds himself sat alone on the sofa the weekend before Christmas, beer in one hand, as his bandmates and their closest friends dance and drink the night away.
He’s stirred from his moping by a warm body landing heavily next to him on the couch.
Louis.
The older boy’s cheeks are flushed, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath, as he pulls Niall in for a cuddle. “Why aren’t you joining the party, Nialler?” he asks in a brash lilt.
Niall sighs, slumping against Louis, his cheek pressed into the thick wool of what had to be the ugliest sweater to ever grace the planet. “I’m just not really feeling the Christmas spirit, yanno?” He realises he can’t tell Louis the actual reason he’s so morose, so when the vivacious boy presses for more detail, he says: “I just can’t believe we lost.”
And it wasn’t a lie, not really. The whirlwind of their success had been incredible, with an outpouring of support from fans all across the globe. Niall wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it but had a feeling it wasn’t going away anytime soon. It had seemed they were on top of the world, those five boys, that nothing would ever stand between them and their dreams again—until everything shuddered to a halt. Third fucking place.
Louis’ eyes soften, and Niall knows that the other boy knows exactly how he’s feeling. “You just remember what Zayn said, yeah? This isn’t the end for us. We’ve got the X Factor tour coming up, and Simon wants to meet with us after the holidays. All good things.” He presses a sloppy kiss to Niall’s cheek. “And no matter what, we all came out of this with four of the best mates on the planet.” With a lopsided grin and a quick ruffle of Niall’s bright blond hair, Louis is bounding across the room toward the next person he wanted attention from, most likely Harry.
Which brings him back to the real reason Niall just can’t let himself go and enjoy the party.
In the days since they moved back home from the X Factor house, Niall had felt the physical and emotional distance between himself and the rest of One Direction. They had gone from sharing the same room, constantly in each other’s space, to being scattered across the UK. As the only Irish member, Niall thinks he feels that distance more than anyone.
He and the boys text, sure, and more often than not one of them is calling him just to say hi, but it isn’t the same. He misses the energy that only came from all five of them being together in the same place, a vibrancy that he wishes he could bottle because surely it could power entire cities.
To ease the ache of the loneliness, he spent a lot of time watching and rewatching the videos of their time on the show. He observed himself the first time through, marvelling at the clip of himself crying after being cut and not knowing what was to come, judging the silly things he spouted off in the video diaries. After the first go round, he went through the videos again, this time watching Louis.
Or, more aptly, watching Louis watch Harry.
It had hit Niall like a ton of bricks. He watched those videos over and over, noticing something new each time. Harry pressing his face closer to a blindfolded Louis. Louis unable to contain his smile after touching Harry’s hand. And, oh god, the way they were looking at each other… Niall had seen these moments play out in real time, had thought nothing of the fast friendship his eldest and youngest bandmates had formed. But now, able to look at the big picture… The hugs, the touches, the way Louis had leapt into Harry’s arms. Was there something more there?
It’s only become more painfully obvious since then, the boys unable to go an entire conversation without bringing one another up. It was the same according to Liam and Zayn, Niall discovered, though he didn’t let on why he was asking. No need to cause any drama just in case he was wrong.
He wasn’t wrong, though, and he was determined to prove it. Harry and Louis had been mooning over each other under everyone’s noses for months now, and he’d be damned if he was going to just sit idly by.
When Liam had suggested the Christmas party, something clicked into place in Niall’s brain. It was perfect! He’d get them drunk, rig the gift exchange so they got each other’s names, they’d admit how they felt about each other. It would be brilliant.
Well. Steps one and two had gone off smashingly. Both boys (most of the guests, actually) were three sheets to the wind by the time the band snuck away from the bevy of revelers to quietly exchange gifts.
Liam closes the door to the spare room behind them once all five boys pile inside, gifts in hand. Louis takes a running leap onto the bed, the springs of the mattress protesting against the sudden weight. The rest of the band joins him, albeit in a calmer fashion.
“Who wants to go first?” Liam asks, once everyone is seated in a jumble on the bed.
“I’ll go,” Zayn says, handing the gift bag in his hand across the circle to Niall. “Cheers, mate.”
Niall opens the bag and finds a six-pack of his favorite beer, as well as a Nandos gift card. “Thanks, Zayn!” he says brightly. Setting the gift aside, he hands the present he brought to Liam. “Happy Christmas, Liam,” he crows.
Liam unwraps the package delicately, opening the seams and folding the paper to the side when he’s removed it. Niall had gotten him a few collector’s edition comics, ones he’d heard the boy gushing about to Zayn last time they’d hung out together.
Zayn nods approvingly and Liam’s eyes are practically sparkling. “This is brilliant, Niall. Thank you so much!” He grins sheepishly at Zayn. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, actually, so when in doubt…” His present, by far the largest of the bunch, is slid across to Zayn.
Zayn tears into the wrapping slowly, but with far less finesse than Liam. The box is filled with art supplies, everything from canvases to spray paints to brushes. “Sick,” Zayn says appreciatively, pawing through the box to survey the contents. “Thanks, mate, this is great.”
The three turn to look at Harry and Louis, blinking in confusion. “I guess that means you two got each other. Huh,” Liam says, furrowing his brow.
“Yeah, weird,” Niall agrees, hoping he’s not being totally obvious.
Harry and Louis don’t seem to mind, the pair of them grinning like mad. They swap gifts at the same time, Harry’s neatly wrapped parcel for Louis’ duct taped monstrosity (“Hey! It’s wrapped, innit?”). Harry’s gotten Louis a new pair of Tom’s, and Louis got Harry an old, Polaroid camera. They fawn over their gifts and each other, Louis pulling Harry into his side and burying his face in his curls.
Niall just watches, grinning, but the embrace doesn’t last long. All too soon the boys are packing away their gifts and cleaning up the wrapping, slipping back out of the room to rejoin the party. Alone, Niall flops back on the bed with a groan, throwing one arm over his eyes. He needs to think of something to do, and fast, because the idea of going on the X Factor tour with two pining idiots is not his idea of a good time.
He sighs and rolls off the bed, one of his newly acquired beers in hand, but stops when something catches his eye. Half out of the closet is a box of Christmas decorations, ones the lads hadn’t needed for the party. And right on top…
“Ah ha!” Niall cries gleefully, snatching up the festive items and scampering away to put them to use.
This has to work, the blond thinks to himself once he’s tacked one sprig of mistletoe above the doorway. It’s so obvious, he can’t believe he didn’t think of it sooner. Now all he has to do is get the lovesick idiots underneath it at the same time… Who are, conveniently, nowhere to be seen.
While he’s stood there pondering, Liam brushes past him on the way to refill his drink. The brunet boy follows Niall’s gaze upwards, his shapely lips quirking into a smile. “Ah, mistletoe,” he remarks merrily. Before Niall can react, Liam is pressing a chaste kiss to the Irish lad’s mouth. “Happy Christmas, Niall,” he says with a wink, continuing on his way as if nothing had happened.
Huh. Well, that wasn’t what I was going for. Determined to find Harry and Louis, Niall sets off down the hallway, the remaining mistletoe still in hand.
Niall hears someone out on the patio and stops in his tracks, hoping it’s the pair of missing boys. He quickly hangs a second bundle above the patio door, trying to appear nonchalant as he loiters nearby.
A few minutes pass by but it seems like ages to Niall, so when the sliding glass door finally opens Niall pounces on the bundled up figure stepping inside from the cold. The smell of cigarette smoke fills his nostrils and he realizes with a sinking feeling that the person in his grasp is neither blue-eyed nor curly-haired.
As a matter of fact, it happens to be Zayn. “Did you miss me? I only went out for a smoke?” Zayn teases, wrapping his arms around Niall and hugging him back.
“Something like that,” Niall replies dejectedly. He doesn’t say anything else, though, as Zayn is kissing him soundly on the lips.
“Mistletoe,” Zayn says with a shrug as he pulls away, shrugging out of his winter coat. His eyes brighten as he spots Liam from across the room and hurries over to him. They meet under the first bit of mistletoe Niall had hung, glancing up and giggling before sharing a (longer than necessary, in Niall’s opinion) kiss. Niall just stares at the pair of them, wondering how on earth his plan had gone so terribly awry.
He stalks back down the hallway toward the toilet, his beers having gone straight through him. As he passes the row of doors, he realizes that he still has one bundle of mistletoe clutched in his fist. He glares down at the traitorous plant before tossing it aside and slipping into the bathroom.
When he emerges moments later, drying his hands on the fabric of his jumper, the hall is no longer empty. Harry and Louis are emerging from one of the previously closed rooms, all pink-cheeked and mussed hair. Something on the ground catches Harry’s attention and he stoops to pick it up, grinning.
“Look, Lou, mistletoe,” he says once he straightens, waving the plant in front of Louis’ face. “You know what that means.”
Louis rolls his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “A parasitic plant disguised as an overdone holiday tradition?” When Harry pouts in response, Louis heaves a sigh, uncrossing his arms and reaching for the curly-haired boy. “Oh, fine, come on then.”
With that, Louis hauls Harry in by his shirt and covers the younger boy’s mouth with his own.
The kiss isn’t short or sweet, like the ones Niall had received from Liam and Zayn. It isn’t even suggestive, like the one his other two bandmates had shared. This kiss is… well, hot. Both boys have their eyes closed, Louis fisting his hands in Harry’s locks and Harry running the hand not holding the mistletoe down Louis’ spine to grip at his bum.
Niall just stares on silently from the bathroom doorway, mouth hanging open.
When the pair finally breaks apart, Louis leans his forehead against Harry’s eyes still closed and breathing heavily. “I think we have an audience,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Niall to hear.
“I think you’re right,” Harry agrees voice somehow lower than usual, coming from deep in his chest. At the same time, both lads turn and fix Niall with pointed stares.
“Eep!” Niall squeaks, trying to duck out of sight even though he knows it’s too late at this point.
“Come on out, Nialler,” Louis calls, lilted voice tinkling with laughter.
Red-faced and wide-eyed, looking every bit the cat that ate the canary, Niall steps out into the hallway to join his friends. He keeps his face to the floor, unable to make eye contact with them. “Hey,” he mutters lamely.
Even looking down he can see that Harry and Louis haven’t moved apart, still pressed tightly together with arms entwined. Huh.
“Niall,” Harry drawls, putting on his best stern face, “have you been going ‘round setting mistletoe traps?” He shakes the plant a couple times for emphasis.
Niall’s face feels even hotter than before, if possible. “Errr, I mean, I was just trying to be festive, what’s a proper snog between friends, that sort of thing…” He’s mumbling and sounds stupid but what else is there to say when you’ve been caught trying to get two of your mates to kiss? Especially your two male, straight-as-far-as-anyone-knows bandmates?
“Quit teasing, love, he’s upset enough as it is,” Louis quips, reaching out to pull Niall closer. Both boys press against him, hugging him from either side. “Nialler, would it make you feel better if I told you that you haven’t tricked us into anything? And that that wasn’t our first kiss?”
“And that we’ve maybe been hiding out in that room to snog since the gift exchange?” Harry adds, a slow smile creeping up his face.
Niall feels like his eyes are going to bug out of his head. “You… What? You were what?” he blusters, turning his head rapidly to look from one grinning face to the other. “How long has this been going on?”
Harry shrugs. “Since the toilets at bootcamp. ‘Met’ in the bathroom might be putting it politely.”
“‘Had-a-quick-shag-not-knowing-we’d-be-put-together-in-a-band’ is more like it,” Louis chimes in, smile going absolutely devilish.
Niall groans, trying to pull out of the embrace but being held tightly by the dirty, rotten, secret-keepers. “I can’t believe you two. Here I was, thinking I was doing you a favour, and you’ve been doing each other favours behind my back this whole time!” He’s pouting and doesn’t even care. “I hate you both, ya cunts.”
Harry and Niall both laugh together, and Niall can’t stay annoyed for too long. He joins in as well, burrowing deeper into their group cuddle.
“You actually gave us the courage to tell the other boys,” Louis says once the laughter dies down. “We weren’t sure how you lot would take the news, but since you were trying to get us together, I don’t think they’re going to mind too much.”
“I think they’ve got some explaining to do as well,” Niall mutters under his breath, but doesn’t elaborate. That’s a can of worms for a different day. “Well, I’m happy for you two. I truly am,” he says, and he is. He’s glad that two of the people he loves most in the world love each other. He wasn’t sure how he would have handled it if his plan had failed, if it wasn’t mutual. The tour would have been awkward, that’s for sure.
He doesn’t have too long to ponder because without warning, a wet pair of lips is coming at him from either side, covering both his cheeks with sloppy kisses.
Crying out in protest, Niall breaks free of the group hug, swiping furiously at his damp cheeks. “Hey! What’s the big idea?” he cries, nose wrinkled.
Harry shrugs innocently, the hand holding the cluster of leaves now high in the air over where Niall’s head had been.
“Mistletoe.”