Archive of Our Own

“Come on, lads, this is very important.”

“Is it?” Zayn says dryly, pulling a beanie on over his ears. It’s freezing outside, but of course just a thin leather jacket will suffice for him, Louis thinks to himself as he shrugs on a coat and Niall zips his puffy jacket up to his chin.

“Yes,” Louis says. “There is nothing more important about this time of year than getting a Louis tree.”

Niall barks a laugh as Zayn rolls his eyes. Fondly, Louis decides.

“Is that what your mother called it when you were a kid, then?” Zayn asks.

“No.” Which is exactly why, now that he is an adult, out of uni and on his own in the big, bad world, he can dispel this whole Christmas tree thing and make the season what it’s truly meant to be about.

“This is the very first Louis tree. Christmas is overrated,” Louis says as they step outside. The sun dips below dusty purple clouds and streetlights are just beginning to flicker on along the streets. Frigid air hits their faces hard, and Louis rubs his bare hands together. He should really invest in some gloves.

“Right,” Niall says, the tip of his nose beginning to turn red. The Christmas tree lot is just around the corner, on the edge of the city park. Good thing, too, it’d be far too much of a pain to haul it onto a bus.

“Look, I didn’t ask to be born the day before Jesus,” Louis says. Honestly, of all the people to compete with for a birthday. If it had been up to Louis, he’d have been born in June, or October, or March so that he could have the entire month all to himself, instead of having to share it with the savior of humanity, yadda yadda.

They round the corner, shadows growing dark and long across the sidewalk as the sun disappears, and Louis sees it. All the pine trees, some big, some small, some fat and skinny, lined up in neat little rows as people mill about, older couples and families with small children hiding in the prickly branches, tired parents asking them to cooperate and pick out a tree. 

“Look at all these people,” Louis says, “picking out their Louis trees.”

Niall snorts as Zayn pulls his beanie down to his eyelids and mutters, “Let’s make this fast, it’s bloody freezing.”

“It takes time, Zayn. Time, patience, and careful consideration,” Louis says. Zayn stalks ahead of them. “It’s got to be perfect!”

He watches Zayn’s retreating back, headed to the worst section of trees, probably.

“Good thing you came to us, then,” a deep, unfamiliar voice suddenly says from behind him and Niall. “We’ve definitely got perfect here.”

Louis turns around, and the first thing he sees is green. Green, like, Christmas green, except deeper, different than the trees around them, and they glimmer slightly in the colorful string lights threaded along the edge of the lot. The second thing Louis sees is dimples, deep, lovely dimples in a set of chill-stained cheeks and the first thought to enter Louis’ head is yes.

“Yes,” he says.

The young man’s smile widens, further engraving his dimples, and he’s got a blue wool hat on his head over a mane of curly brown hair that falls nearly to his shoulders, and it looks soft and Louis kind of wants to touch it.

“Looking for a Christmas tree, then?” the young man asks, as if he really needs to, because what else would they be doing here? Except that’s not what they’re here for, really, and his voice is very deep, and a bit slow, and Louis think he would like to listen to him speak for a long time, maybe hear him read Shakespeare. Louis thinks this boy’s voice is one that could make him appreciate Shakespeare.

“We’re not, actually,” Niall pipes up beside him. “We’re here for a Louis tree.” He sends Louis a sly grin and Louis feels a twinge of annoyance because, well, when you say it like that in front of a stranger it sounds a bit silly, doesn’t it?

The boy’s smile falls and he draws his eyebrows together, and even that’s cute, the way his lips press downward and Louis would rather enjoy being frowned at by this boy, strangely enough, if only so he can kiss it right back into a dimply smile.

And- okay. Getting too far ahead of himself too quickly. A tendency he’s never been quite able to kick.

“A Louis tree?” the boy repeats, looking between them with clear confusion in his eyes.

“Louis here has got a birthday on Christmas Eve,” Niall says, swinging an arm around Louis’ shoulders. “So we’re not allowed to celebrate Christmas.”

“I never said that-”

“So it’s a Louis tree!” Niall continues with a cheeky grin, bumping Louis with his hip. “It celebrates the birth of our Lord and Savior Louis Tomlinson, and a picture of his face will go on the top in place of a star, and all his birthday presents will go beneath it.”

“Shut up, Niall, that isn’t what I-”

But the curly haired boy is looking at him, grinning again, and Louis can feel his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, because he never said that kind of stuff, but the boy is grinning at him, like a Louis tree is something that makes sense. Which, good. That’s his kind of pal.

“Oh!” the boy says, nodding. “A Louis tree! Okay, we’ve got those.”

Louis blinks, and- fuck, who exactly is this boy?

Like he can read his mind, the boy reaches out his yellow mittened – yellow mittened - hand and says, “M’ Harry, by the way. These trees are from Liam’s farm, he’s my best friend. I help him sell them.”

Louis takes his hand and shakes it, and he can feel the warmth of Harry’s fingers beneath the thick yellow wool. “Louis,” he says, as if that wasn’t obvious enough. “And this here’s Niall. We’ve got another one around here somewhere, but he didn’t quite have the Christmas spirit.”

“You mean the Louis Day spirit,” the boy, Harry, says, in utmost seriousness.  

Louis distantly wonders if this Harry is actually a real person.

“Okay, let’s see,” Harry says, and then, incredibly, sweeps his eyes along the length of Louis’ body. His gaze meets Louis’ again and his eyes shine brilliantly as he grins. “I think we’ve got a few good ones over here.”

Harry turns around and Niall follows him first, wagging his eyebrows at Louis as he passes. Louis trails behind, feeling strangely numb.

Harry leads them to a corner of the little lot, shadows stretching long over the snow crunching beneath their feet. It takes Louis about as long as it does for him to tear his eyes away from the back of Harry’s head to realize there aren’t any people milling around this part of the lot, and another to realize that trees surrounding them hardly reach above his collarbone.

“Hey- wait- ” Louis says, coming to a halt. Harry turns around, a half grin on his face, as if he’s trying to hide it. A single dimple betrays him.

“You said you wanted a Louis tree,” he says innocently. The cheeky little fucker.

It takes all of three seconds for Niall to catch on, and when he does the laughter that bursts from his mouth is loud and barking and Louis kind of wants to slap a hand over his face, but he kind of can’t tear his gaze from Harry’s grinning one. The guy actually looks proud of himself.

“There you guys are.”

Zayn walks out from behind a section of taller trees, and Louis barely takes note of the taller, broader man that trails behind him. Harry, on the other hand, looks delighted to see them.

“Liam!” he says, pressing his mittened hands together, “I was just helping these lads find a Louis tree.”

Liam looks confused, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that reminds Louis of a bewildered puppy. “Louis tree?”

Zayn finds Louis’ eyes and raises an eyebrow. “Honestly, Lou?”

“It’s important,” Louis says imploringly, despite himself. He turns on Harry. “But you, Harold, are the worst Louis tree seller I have ever met.”

“Am I?” Harry raises his eyebrows in vague surprise. Louis can see right through it. They’ve known each other all of five minutes and Harry’s already making jokes about his height. Louis doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“Yeah, Lou, is he?” Niall says. He pats the branch of a particularly squat pine tree. “I think this one’s very you.”

Louis turns his nose up at him. His words come out in white puffs of indignation. “Fine. But if you think you’re invited to any Louis Day festivities, you are sorely mistaken, Horan.”

“Is it a day, now?” Zayn says, and he’s smiling, obviously amused, and Louis can’t have this.

“Of course it’s a day!” Harry interjects before Louis can say anything. Louis looks at him. A dimple pokes out beneath a lock of curly hair and his eyes gleam.

Louis is torn, he is so torn, because this stranger is adorably adorable and he just took the piss out of him with these short trees, and Louis hates how much he loves when someone can take the piss out of him and do it well. He will never admit it, but he’s properly impressed.

“I still don’t understand what’s going on,” Liam says. He looks at Zayn. “I thought you were looking for a Christmas tree?”

Zayn blinks, just the barest fluttering of eyelashes but Louis can tell, can see it in his mind; Zayn, sauntering through the trees in his moody leather jacket only to stumble upon this man-puppy, who mistakes him for actually wanting to take part in the holiday season and buy a tree. And Zayn, bless his heart of ice so easily melted, can only say yes.

“They want a Louis tree,” Harry clarifies. He walks over and throws an arm around Liam. “Boys, this is Liam. He grows the trees.” He looks at Liam. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you their money.”

“Is that what this is all about, then?” Louis says. “Money?” The kid is in the Louis Day spirit already.

“You know, these are very Louish Louis trees,” Niall speaks up, looking particularly hard at the trees around him. “But that’s only on the outside, yeah? I think a true Louis tree would have to be really big.”

“Tall as the damn sky, really,” Zayn says, and he looks entirely too amused.

But they’re finally catching on, and Louis will take anything to get out of this hobbit forest.

“Harry, take us to the real Louis trees, please,” he says, finding the curly boy’s eyes again. Harry smiles like he’s delighted to and turns around the lead the way, leaving Liam looking just as confused, if not more, as before.

Liam falls into step beside Zayn, however, so maybe Zayn will explain it to him. That, or blurt out how hot he thinks Liam looks in his winter coat, or how the combination of that with his beard makes him look slightly like a lumberjack. Louis does love a flustered Zayn.

Harry glances back at him, green eyes bright, and all thoughts of Zayn and Liam are swept from his mind. Instead, all he sees are dimples and curls, and there’s only one thought running through his mind, and it’s not about a tree.

Shit.

*

“For fuck’s sake, Lou, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this for you,” Zayn grunts, his face lost in a sea of pine needles. They’re moving a snail’s pace down the sidewalk, which Louis thinks is a bit extreme. They’re carrying a tree, not a slab of concrete.

“You’re in it for the holiday season, Zayn,” Louis answers. He’s doing a splendid job of carrying the tip of the tree.

A sigh sounds from within the branches, and Zayn opts not to answer. Louis smiles to himself, because Zayn isn’t doing it for the holiday season, and that’s all that matters.

“Don’t worry boys, we’re almost there,” Louis says as they round the corner and their flat building appears within view.

“And then we have to carry it up the fuckin’ stairs,” Niall’s voice comes from the base of the tree.

“When we buy our next flat, we’ll have to find one with an elevator,” Louis says. Hopefully his current stint at the Starbucks down the road will have passed by then and he can afford such a luxury.

To be honest, Louis loves their little flat. They’ve lived in it since Louis’ second year of uni, and he may have been the first of them to graduate, but Niall and Zayn can’t quite rid of him yet. Their Louis tree is going to look perfect in their tiny living room.

It’s the perfect Louis tree, really. It’s tall and imposing and just a little bit lumpy, perfectly imperfect and when Louis had told Harry he’d found them the best tree, his face had lit up brighter than any star they could put on top of it.

The thought tugs at Louis’ heart slightly, thinking of Harry’s sparkly eyed smile and lovely dimpled cheeks. They’d been torn apart far too soon, and of course Harry had been a gentleman and offered his assistance when he’d learned they were walking the tree home, but unfortunately three grown men were more than enough to carry one Louis tree.  

He’d gotten what he’d went there for, so that was a mission accomplished. And if he got to meet a cute boy in the process, well, all the more success.

“Okay, lads, ready for some heavy lifting?” Louis says as he pauses in front of the entrance to their building to pull out his key. Two groans answer him in response.

Louis smiles to himself as he kicks the door open and heaves the top of the tree over his shoulder. It should only take, like, a day or two until he’s all but forgotten about dimply, curly haired boy with the Christmas green eyes.

*

Louis doesn’t mean to find himself staring at rows of trees again the next afternoon.

It’s just, it’s on his way home from work, when he feels like getting a bit of exercise and walking the extra half mile around the park. It’s about his health.

Physical health…mental clarity…because he’s been thinking about a certain pair of green eyes all day, and Louis swears if he doesn’t see that sweet dimpled smile soon his heart may just implode. Which is unhealthy and could lead to an untimely death, and Niall and Zayn don’t have nearly enough money to pay for the kind of funeral he deserves.

“Louis?”

The low voice comes from behind him and it’s like Louis can breathe again, like he’s been held underwater all day and he’s finally found a source of air. Which should be slightly concerning, seeing as he’s known this guy for all of twenty four hours, but Louis has never been known to engage half way.

Louis turns around, and instead of the brilliant smile he was hoping for, he’s met with a furrow browed frown, and Louis’ heart drops a fraction until Harry says, “Was something wrong with your tree?”

And- oh, Harry thinks he’s here because he’s not satisfied with the tree they bought yesterday. Which is entirely false, because it takes up half of their living room and once they put the lights and ornaments on it tonight, it’s going to look fucking majestic.

“No!” Louis says. He clears his throat. “I mean, ah, no. It’s great. Really great. We’re going to decorate it tonight.”

Harry’s frown clears, and there’s the smile Louis was waiting for. Still, slight confusion lingers in his eyes. “Why’re you here, then?”

“Oh, um.” Louis may not have though that one out. Well, he did, but he can’t just go and tell Harry the truth. Instead, what he hears coming out of his mouth is, “I need another tree.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You do? Another Louis tree?”

Louis can’t let himself look that self-absorbed, even if it’s true. “Ah, no. I need a Christmas tree, actually. I didn’t really realize how important tradition is to Niall, and I can’t just take Christmas from him, you know? Trust me, you never want to see Niall’s sad face, it makes me feel like the Grinch.” He could have probably stopped when he said he needed a Christmas tree.

But it’s absolutely delightful when Harry actually giggles. “The Louis that stole Christmas,” he says, eyes gleaming as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day. Louis thinks his heart grows five sizes.

“Yeah, can’t have that, right?” he says, feeling himself smile back.

“Of course not,” Harry agrees. He tugs his blue hat over some loose curls and looks around. “Okay then, what kind of Christmas tree are you looking for?”

Thirty minutes later, half of which is spent actually searching for a tree and the rest made of Louis’ jokes and Harry’s beautiful laughter, Louis’ got another tree and it’s only just occurring to him that Zayn and Niall are probably going to kill him when he gets home with it.

This one is, luckily, considerably smaller, because he certainly can’t have it competing with his Louis tree. The only downside is that it’s small enough that Louis can just carry it home on his own, not that he’s particularly above asking Harry for help anyway, but a large family with a gaggle of children walk onto the lot and Harry’s eyes light up when he sees them. Louis thinks his Grinch heart grows another size bigger.

“Is that the best part of this, then?” Louis asks, because he can’t let himself lose Harry just yet. He gestures to the kids, the bright eyed, rosy cheeked kind who undoubtedly wrote their lists to Santa mid-October.

Harry smiles softly and nods. “It’s important, finding the right Christmas tree for them. Like, it’s the first thing they know Santa will see when he comes down their chimney, you know? It’s got to be nice, but it’s also got to represent them.” His smile broadens. “When I was little, I used to decorate our tree so meticulously because I thought of it as my gift to Santa Clause. He leaves us gifts, and in return we give him the sight of our beautiful trees.” His eyes are honest-to-god glittering. When he meets Louis’ again he seems to come back to himself slightly. He gives a tiny shrug, and it’s the first time Louis has seen him look sheepish.

Louis is, however, beyond charmed by this boy. “That’s…really lovely, Harry.” He doesn’t think he’s ever met a more devoted Christmas tree seller.

Harry smiles again. “And, you know, the kids are cute.” He looks up through his eyelashes, meets Louis’ eyes, and he pauses with a tiny smile on his lips. “Some of my other customers are cuter, though.”

Louis feels heat rise to his cheeks that has nothing to do with the cold air, and his heart kicks into gear as he stares back at Harry, distantly wishing he could please, please kiss that smile into something wider.

Harry wishes him a smiling Merry Christmas, and Louis bids him the same with stupid blush-stained cheeks, and Louis goes on his merry way as Harry turns to assist the excited children who aren’t, Louis notes to himself, the cutest customers Harry’s had.

Fuck, Louis thinks once he’s halfway home, walking down the sidewalk by himself with his hand wrapped around the middle of their second tree. Now he’s definitely going to have to go back.

*

“I’m confused,” Niall says as he stands in the doorway to their living room still in his jacket and carrying the chill with him. He looks between the two trees. “You needed two Louis trees?”

Louis rolls his eyes, stuck awkwardly between the bigger tree and the wall in an attempt to drape lights around it. Zayn sits on the couch, eating the popcorn he’s supposed to be stringing together. “No, of course not. That one is a Christmas tree.” He nods to the smaller one.

“I thought you didn’t want a Christmas tree,” Niall says.

“It’s important it is to acknowledge other holidays, Niall,” Louis says.  “If you only celebrate your own holiday, you’re really learning nothing about other cultures, or religions.”

Niall blinks. Then his expression clears and amusement plays on a tiny smirk. “You just wanted to see that Harry guy again.”

Louis hangs the first little bulb on a branch of their Louis tree. He doesn’t glance up. “Henry who?”

“You’re hopeless, mate,” Zayn grins around a mouthful of popcorn.

“Your arse is hopeless,” Louis shoots back. “Speaking of which, get off it and help me decorate this thing.”

“I dunno,” Zayn says. “I kinda want to hear more about this Christmas cultural stuff. I’m not familiar after so many years in the church of Louis.”

It’s not even that funny (damn him) but Niall’s laughter fills the tiny room and Zayn’s eyes crinkle around the corners like they do when he’s pleased with himself. And, well, if this isn’t everything Louis hoped their tree decorating night would be, he doesn’t know what is.

“Thank you, Niall,” he says pointedly anyway, as the blonde lad hangs a fake candy cane on their Christmas tree. He sends his best reproachful glare at Zayn, who only munches down more of Louis’ popcorn in response.

*

In an amazing bout of self-control, Louis manages to stay away from the Christmas tree stand for an entire two days, mainly because he knows he needs a plan if he’s going to go back there. So he decides, with an edge of nerves every time he thinks about it, that he may as well cut to the chase. He’ll just ask Harry out.

Sure, he’s only known the guy four days, but it’s a week and a half till Christmas and these trees won’t be on sale forever. Besides, Louis has always been about “seizing the moment.” He’s pretty sure he’s got a quote that expresses the sentiment in the bio of his Twitter.

He gets out of work that day smelling of espresso and whipped cream, and he clutches two hot chocolates in his hands. He made sure to steam them extra hot, so they’d last till he got to the park. When he does, his face is positively frozen, but heat is still seeping through the cardboard sleeves around the cups, warming his bare fingers. When the familiar rows of trees come into sight, his heart begins to hammer.

Louis doesn’t give up though, of course not, it’s not in Tomlinson blood to give up. He’s ready. He can do this. So when he steps through the little string light entrance and is met with a voice that says, “Louis?” he whirls around, words flying out of his mouth before he’s even had a thought.

“Harry! I was wondering if you might like to-”

He’s met with the blinking stare of Liam, who looks quite as befuddled as Louis suddenly feels mortified, clutching his Starbucks cups in both hands perhaps a bit too tightly.

“Hi,” Liam says, raising his eyebrows. “Are you looking for Harry?”

“No!” Louis says, even though- yes. “No, no, no, Liam. It’s Liam, right? I was just stopping by to-”

“Was there something wrong with your tree?” Liam asks, and honestly, no, there is nothing wrong with his damn tree. Trees.

“No, no, of course not. Only top quality trees here, obviously.” Louis says.

Liam’s expression relaxes. “What are you here for, then?”

Louis’ mind stalls, and his eyes flicker around the tips of the tallest trees, a green that’s grown too familiar. A breeze rustles the branches and sends a shiver deep to his bones, and it’s then that he feels the warm cups in his hands again.

“I just-” The worst spill out of his mouth faster than his brain conceives them. “My friend- you know, Zayn? He was here with me last time? Dark hair, a bit broody, America’s next top model with eyelashes longer than Rapunzel’s hair?”

Liam blinks.

Louis will take that as a yes. “Well, he wants your number,” Louis says. “Only he’s been too chicken to ask you himself. So here I am. To get your number. For Zayn.”

Liam blinks again, utterly bewildered. Louis almost feels the same. He holds out a cup. “Brought you this as an incentive.”

Liam’s cheeks flood with color. “Oh- I don’t need an incentive!” He blinks rapidly, blushing even more. “I mean, sure, yeah, I can give you my number for him.”

“Perfect,” Louis says, and he’s still holding out the cup of hot chocolate when a different voice comes from behind them, one that makes Louis’ heart jump into his throat and the one he’d been hoping to hear all along.

“Hey Liam, I- Louis?” Harry says, and his eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly disappear into his headscarf, patterned with little reindeer. His eyes flicker down to the drink halfway between them.

“H, do you have a pen?” Liam asks, feeling around in his pockets and coming up with a slip of old receipt paper.

“Er, yeah, I think so,” Harry says after the tiniest pause. He pulls his eyes away and reaches into his own pocket. He extracts a red crayon and holds it out to Liam, eyes sliding back to Louis’ in a distant, silent question. Louis can’t bring himself to look back.

“What do you need it for?” Harry asks, sticking his hands back into his pockets even though he’s got his yellow mittens on.

“Need to give Louis my number,” Liam mutters absently as he jots it down on the leftover receipt.

It would be comical, the way Harry’s face falls and then closes off just as fast. But it’s not comical. It’s the opposite of comical. It’s…fuck.

Liam smiles at Louis as he hands him the slip of paper, and Louis is still holding out the damn hot chocolate so he says, “Are you sure?” and because Louis is already in far too deep he nods and Liam takes it with a cheerful, “Thanks!”

And Harry is scowling. Harry is scowling like a hurt kitten and Louis can’t even look at him. Liam does, though, smiling brightly. “Did you need something, Harry?”

Harry looks at him. “Oh, yeah, uh, I need your help loading a tree into a car.”

“Sure,” Liam says easily, and he must be one of the hardest people in the world to hate, Louis decides as Harry’s face softens just a fraction.

Harry doesn’t look at Louis as he walks away, though, just disappears into the rows of trees as Liam steps forward to follow him. He looks back at Louis and positively beams. “Tell him to text me, yeah?”

Louis smiles back, hoping it doesn’t look as shallow as it feels. “Of course he will.”

As Liam walks away, Louis heart falls into the cold, hard ground. “What the fuck?” he mutters to himself as he walks out onto the sidewalk. On his way home, he stops to pour his half-cold hot chocolate down a sewer grate next to the curb.

*

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Louis says when he walks into the living room, dropping the slip of paper onto Zayn’s lap. “I’m never getting you another present again. Thank me when you’re married.”

Zayn sits up on the couch, eyebrows drawn in bewilderment. He’s got the television playing quietly between the trees. “What?”

Louis sighs and shrugs his coat off onto the floor. He falls onto the couch beside Zayn and drapes an arm over his eyes. “I went to go ask out Harry, you know, the Christmas tree guy? But instead I asked out Liam. For you.”

Zayn’s voice sounds careful. “What.”

Louis takes his arm from his eyes. He points to the numbers, written in red. “That’s Liam’s number. Text him. Call him. Send him a picture of your dick.”

Zayn’s cheeks color just slightly. “Louis.”

“No, I’m serious,” Louis says, and he is, truly. “Make it good. Maybe he’ll show Harry and he’ll think it’s mine.”

“Louis!”

Louis leans back and drapes his arm back over his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic,” Zayn mutters, and Louis can hear him tapping away at his touch screen already.

*

There are six days until Christmas and Louis decides he needs to try, just try, one more time. Never let it be said that a Tomlinson easily accepts defeat.

It’s just, Zayn has been so happy, these last few days, attached to his phone like a fucking life source, always smiling down at it with these dopey, goofy, sappy smiles that simultaneously make Louis want to vomit and start planning the wedding ceremony. They also remind him of how that could have been Louis himself, only with a different doe eyed tree seller.

So Louis goes back, no hot chocolates, just himself this time, ready to set the record straight and get Harry to go on a date with him. It really shouldn’t be that hard.

Except the second he sees Harry he freezes, feet stuck to the sidewalk. He hasn’t even entered the place yet.

Harry’s eyes brighten at first, and Louis’ heart flutters so hard in his chest it’s pathetic, but then Harry’s mouth flattens into a straight line and his eyes flicker away. No, Louis absolutely cannot have this.

With less than a week until Christmas, the lot is considerably emptier than it was before, of people and of trees. Still, some linger, but Harry doesn’t seem nearly as busy as he was. Louis takes a deep breath and steps beneath the colorful lights.

Harry hasn’t moved, eyes very focused on nothing in particular, as if this is the most important spot he could be standing in, and as if he isn’t aware Louis is actually there.

Louis walks right up to him anyway, heart hammering in his chest. “Hi.”

Harry turns, and as he does the knit fabric of his left mitten gets caught in a tree branch. “Oops,” he mutters, and tries to tug it off.

Without thinking Louis reaches over and gently pulls his hand free. He extracts the tiny pine needles out of the wool, one by one, and he realizes he can feel the warmth of Harry’s hand on his own bare fingers through the mitten. It’s the loveliest warmth, and it flows right up to Louis’ cheeks.

When he finally lets go, Harry murmurs a soft “Thanks,” his own cheeks a lovely red. He looks at Louis, waiting, expectant, because what could Louis possibly be back here for? What could he possibly want?

You, Louis thinks. I want you.

His mouth, however, betrays him. His mouth never listens. To anyone.

“I need another tree.”

What. What? What?

Harry blinks, and if his face falls just the tiniest, infinitesimal amount, well. It makes Louis feel like shit. Again.

“Another one?” Harry says, and Louis just wants to kiss that confused pout off of his mouth, that’s what he really wants, but he says, “Yes,” instead.

“You see, I think Zayn’s feeling left out,” he says quickly, eyes darting to the trees around them. “I’ve got my Louis tree, you know? And Niall’s got his Christmas tree. And Zayn’s got nothing.”

Zayn’s got Liam. Zayn doesn’t want his own tree. Zayn never wanted any trees. Why does this always turn into something about Zayn?

“Oh. Okay,” Harry says. He looks around. “Our selection’s a bit more limited now, but what do you think he’ll like?”

Ten minutes later, Louis’ got another small tree under his arm, and his wallet is yet again a little lighter. He’s spent more money on trees than gifts this year.

“Thanks, Harry,” he says, pausing at the edge of the lot. It’s late, the sun’s gone completely down, and the string lights reflect off of Harry’s hair spilling out of his headscarf, creating a sort of halo effect. Louis wants to burn the image in his mind until it hurts.

Harry shrugs. “It’s no problem, just doing my job.”

Of course. This isn’t going at all like Louis planned. What the fuck else is new.

“It’s just,” he says, an idea suddenly popping into his head as he looks down at the tree and thinks of Zayn. Zayn, always on his phone these days. “I overheard Zayn talking to Liam on the phone about how much he wanted his own.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Did you?”

Louis blinks. “Yes.” Harry doesn’t seem quite as surprised as he expected him to, at this information that Zayn was talking to Liam. On the phone.

Harry’s mouth curls into a smile at Louis’ obvious confusion, and wait. Wait.

“Wait,” Louis say. “Wait. You know about Liam and Zayn?”

Harry is full on grinning now. “Of course I know about Liam and Zayn,” he says. “Liam is my best friend, Louis. He hasn’t shut up about Zayn.”

“Wait,” Louis says again.

Harry doesn’t wait. “He told me all about how you got his number for Zayn, too,” Harry says, and the tiny smirk playing on his lips is positively offensive. “That was very kind of you, Louis.”

“You-” Louis stutters, flushing down to his neck. “You-”

Harry shrugs, smiling widely, and Louis hates his dimples, wants to kiss them right off his face. “Me,” Harry says.

Louis is still blushing, and it needs to stop, really. He absently brings his free hand up to his cheek and presses the cold skin against his face, in lieu of having no idea what else to say to this stupid, incredibly adorable boy.

A crease appears between Harry’s eyes. “Are your hands cold?” And before Louis can say anything, Harry’s already peeling off his mittens and taking the hand from Louis’ face into his big warm ones.

He squeezes his hand, just slightly, looking into Louis’ eyes the entire time and Louis can’t look away, and he also can’t breathe because his heart is pounding so hard in his chest and his lungs have grown five sizes too small. He wants to kiss this boy so badly with his little Christmas light halo, so very, very much. He also wants to glare at him for tricking him like this.  

Five minutes later, Louis is nearly positive that his hands have never been so warm in his life, and his fingers are snug and safe inside Harry’s yellow mittens because the curly haired boy so earnestly insisted.

“Have a safe walk home, Lou,” Harry says as Louis steps onto the sidewalk. “And if you need one more tree, don’t hesitate to come back.”

As Louis glances back at him one last time, he swears he sees Harry wink. Or maybe he’s just blinking. Either way, it’s so entirely endearing Louis isn’t sure his heart is going to actually make it to live a full twenty three years.

*

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Zayn says.

He and Niall watch from where they sit at their tiny kitchen table, eating old pizza for dinner as Louis props the tree up against the back of the door.

“Yes,” Louis deadpans, looking at him straight in the eye. “Yes, I am.”

Niall, however, grins. “Just ask the guy out already.”

“I can’t, Niall,” Louis sighs dramatically. He wants to steal the last piece of pizza from the box between them, but he doesn’t want to take off Harry’s mittens. “I try, but there is something in my brain physically preventing me from doing it.”

“We’re going to run out of room for all these trees if you don’t, is all I’m saying,” Niall shrugs.

“You guys have any better ideas, then?” Louis asks. Niall and Zayn look at each other.

“There doesn’t need to be any better ideas,” Zayn says.

Louis sighs, curling his fingers inside Harry’s mittens, hoping some of Harry’s warmth still lingers there. He’s so entirely hopeless.

*

Louis had been expecting it, obviously.

When he walks into the flat two days later, it’s dark. Too dark.

And then he hears the giggle.

His smile is already five times too wide before the lights flick on and a loud chorus of “SURPRISE!”  fills the flat. Niall and Zayn and a bunch of his uni friends are crowded into what little space is not dominated by Christmas trees. Liam’s there.  All of them smiling and laughing and looking at him, because it’s Louis Day, it’s his twenty third birthday, but Louis’ only looking at one person.

He doesn’t mean to, really, it’s just that he’s like, right there, right in front, and he’s smiling so widely and Louis’ never seen him without a hat or a headscarf and his hair looks so soft and a stray curl falls in front of his green eyes, always twinkling like he’s a damn Christmas elf or something.

“Happy birthday, you old bastard!” Niall jumps forward and attacks him in a hug.

“Fuck you,” Louis says, but he’s smiling and he throws his arm around Niall’s shoulders, because he fucking loves Niall.

Someone turns on music – not Christmas music, Jesus’ birthday still isn’t for a few days, thank you very much – and Zayn walks over and shoves a drink into Louis’ hand.

“You can thank me later,” Zayn says into his ear, with a little glance in Harry and Liam’s direction, a gleam in his eyes.

“Fuck you,” Louis says, but he takes a swig of his drink and presses a wet kiss to Zayn’s cheek, because he fucking loves Zayn.

Louis makes the rounds, greeting uni friends and consuming a steady flow of mixed drinks that keep coming from the kitchen. Things are getting funnier and the music is getting louder and the lights on the tree(s) are getting brighter and fuzzier and prettier than he’s ever seen them.

Finally, finally, he hears the voice he’s been aching to hear most of all tonight.

“Hi, Louis.”

His voice is low and pleasant and when Louis turns Harry is standing right beside him, smiling a crooked close mouthed smile that Louis decides he would very much like to feel against his own lips.

“Harry!” Louis says, and his voice is loud, it’s probably too loud, and he doesn’t want to ruin this, he doesn’t want to make of mess of things again, but Harry’s smile widens so maybe it’s not such a bad thing. “Harold! What brings you here?”

Harry lifts a hand and bops him on the nose. He actually bops him on the nose. “Your birthday, Lou. You, of all people, couldn’t have forgotten.”

“Of course not,” Louis says, affronted. Of course, he’s not really affronted, and Harry laughs at what must be the worst fake scowl in the universe.  “It’s Louis Day, innit.”

“Well,” Harry says, like he’s actually contemplating something, voice slow and sweet. “Technically it’s not the twenty fourth yet.”

“Even better!” Louis says, and he’s crowding Harry’s space, really, but Harry doesn’t move away so neither does he. “Two Louis Days!”

Harry laughs and Louis truly, very much, would like to hear that sound again. Many more times. Forever.

Harry suddenly leans forward and Louis forgets everything he’s ever learned about breathing.

His breath is warm as he says into Louis’ ear, “I like all your trees.”

Louis blinks.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you very much. We like to keep it festive here.”

“I guess Zayn didn’t feel as inspired as the rest of you, though?” Harry nods to the tree in the corner of their kitchen, leaning against the wall with a few wayward baubles hanging off its branches and one of Niall’s strapbacks perched on top.

Louis refuses to give into Harry’s bait. “I blame Liam’s constant flow of text messages distracting him from what’s really important.”

Harry’s eye gleams. “Thanks to you being a good friend and getting Liam’s number.”

Harry’s mocking him, now. He’s fucking mocking him and Louis wants to kiss him. He should.

“I’m a fucking fantastic friend,” he says instead. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Harry’s smile softens and- wait. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. They’re not supposed to be talking about friendship.

Louis should kiss him. He should really, really kiss him.

“Have you had a drink?” he asks Harry instead. “Let me get you a drink.”

He grabs Harry’s hand, and it’s warm and big and he’d like to hold it for a very long time, and he pulls him through the mass of people into the kitchen. As if on queue, Niall shoves a cup into his hand. It looks like something vaguely fruity. Louis hands it to Harry.

“Thank you,” he says.

Twenty minutes later and they find themselves on the couch, and there are about four other people on it with them but Louis doesn’t particularly mind, it just means he has to sit closer to Harry, and he likes sitting closer to Harry. He likes it very, very much. And Louis thought, he was so sure, that it would be easier to make a move on Harry if he was full of a bit more alcohol.

Except it’s not, because his dimpled cheeks are rosier and his green eyes are glossier and everything is absolutely glittering in the light of the trees, and he’s just looking at Louis. He’s always, constantly looking at him, and how is Louis supposed to be able to ask him out, never mind breathe for five seconds if Harry just keeps looking at him with those beautiful eyes and lips so pink and kissable and close it makes Louis’ toes squirm in his socks.

“I like you, Louis,” Harry says, and he’s had a few drinks now and his cheeks are very dimply. Louis pokes one.

“I’m quite fond of you too, Harold,” Louis says, smiling right back at him. Harry just continues to look at him and his heart has been hammering in his chest for a while now, and if this isn’t enough go ahead for him to ask Harry out he doesn’t know what is.

Do it, Louis, he tells himself.

“And I do like your trees,” Harry says. “Especially your Louis Tree.” He turns to look at it, and the lights reflect in his eyes.

Do it, Louis!

“It’s sparkly.” Harry looks back at him, a gentle, almost shy smile on his face. “It’s pretty, like you. You’re very pretty, Louis. Very, very pretty.”

Do!!!! It!!!!! Louis!!!!!!

“Harry,” Louis says, voice in a rush. If he doesn’t do it now, he may not ever. “Harry, I-”

The words are on the tip of Louis’ tongue, they’re right there-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR LOOOOOUIIIIIIIIIIIS-”

He looks up at the chorus of voices, finds the crowd making a path so that Niall and Zayn can carry a cake, a huge cake, toward him, twenty three candles sticking out of the frosting, and it looks like a fucking inferno.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOOOO YOUUUUUUUUU!”

Everyone breaks into applause and Louis would be eating this up, he truly would, but Harry is still currently not asked out and Louis really needs to ask him out and he was so close-

“Blow out the candles, Lou!” Niall says, grinning like a maniac. “Make a wish! Make it a good one!”

Harry smiles at him, is always smiling at him, and the words die on Louis’ tongue as he sucks in a deep breath to make a wish. The candles go out in a flourish.

    *

“Thanks for having us to your party, Louis,” Liam says, and most of the guests are gone by now so they’ve got room to breathe, but he’s still pressed up against Zayn’s side. 

Louis ruffles the guy’s hair. Honestly, he truly is a little puppy. “Well I hope I see you around here more often.” He winks pointedly at Zayn, and both of their cheeks turn pink. They’re adorable.

“You too, mate,” Niall says to Harry, clapping him on the back. Something funny twinges in Louis’ chest at Niall saying the things Louis has been too cowardly to say himself.

Harry just smiles, eyes flickering to Louis’. Ever since all of Louis’ nerve slipped down the drain, he’d barely looked at Harry all evening.

“I’d like to,” Harry says, so quietly Louis almost doesn’t even hear it.

“I- thanks,” Louis says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He looks between Harry and Liam. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for buying our trees,” Liam winks, almost more at Harry than at Louis and Louis feels his cheeks flush. Liam turns toward the door and Louis assumes he’s going to follow, but Harry reaches into his pocket instead. He pushes something small into Louis’ hand and closes Louis’ finger over it before he can see. When Harry pulls his hand away Louis feels the urge to grab it back.

“Happy birthday, Lou,” Harry says softly, gives him one more smile that burns Louis to his toes, and slips out the door after Liam.

When Louis opens his hand, there’s a tiny charm sitting in the palm of his hand. A tree.

Louis groans and rubs a hand over his eyes. He can feel Zayn and Niall watching him. “I fucking hate him, guys.”

Niall pats his shoulder. “That’s why you need to ask him out,” he says consolingly. Louis almost wants to tell him off for interfering earlier. But then Niall’s hugging him, and Zayn’s hugging him and wishing him happy birthday they’re all still a bit tipsy, really, and this was probably one of the best Louis Days in Louis Day history.

*

It’s Louis Day.

It’s actual Louis Day, and Louis is officially twenty three years old.

It’s also eleven o’clock in the morning and he should be getting ready to catch a train to his mother’s house, god knows it’s going to be mad at the station, but instead he’s sitting on a stump in an empty Christmas tree lot, and it’s snowing quietly.

It’s almost a little sad, the imprints in the snow where the trees used to be, pine needles scattered everywhere. A barren land. Christmas feels over already. Mostly, though, it’s the absence of pretty curls and dimples. He’s wearing Harry’s mittens, and he’s got the little tree charm tucked away in his pocket. He hasn’t gone anywhere without it in the last few days. It’s pathetic, really.

The mittens are warm and they make Louis’ chest throb almost painfully as he curls his fingers up inside of them. He could, very easily, get Harry’s number through Zayn and Liam, but.

He closes his eyes and falls backward right into the snow, ice seeping through his hair and snowflakes melting on his face. He doesn’t even care. He’s such a coward and now there’s no chance of anything happening, ever. He’s used all his chances.

There are footsteps crunching in the snow near the sidewalk. It’s probably someone watching him, wondering if he’s dead, hoping he’s not dead because that would really put a damper on their Christmas Eve.

They’re walking toward him, and they don’t stop until they’re right next to Louis, right at his feet, and Louis can feel eyes looking at him. He kind of does wish he was dead.

“Louis?”

And- no, that can’t be right. Because why would he be- that’s just stupid, it’s just his mind tricking him, probably-

“Louis, what are you doing?” the voice says when he doesn’t respond, slow and familiar.

Louis doesn’t even open his eyes, because that would be too good to be true. Maybe he is dead. “I’m dead,” he says.

“Then how are you talking?” He steps a bit to the right, and Louis hears a body fall to the ground next to him.

“I don’t know,” Louis says, eyes still closed. “I just am.”

“But you can’t be dead on Louis Day.”

It’s like Louis’ heart fills with color, and he feels himself smiling into the cold air. “Twenty three years is enough of this world.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry says, and Louis finally opens his eyes.

Harry’s sitting beside him, snowflakes sticking to the top of his blue wool hat, curiously looking down at Louis where he lays in the snow. His head really is getting very cold.

“What are you doing here, Harry?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Well, fine. Fine. There’s nothing much to lose, anyway. It’s Christmas Eve and if it all goes wrong he’ll be able to bury himself in his mother’s arms soon anyway. Louis closes his eyes again, says a little prayer to his birthday buddy, Jesus, asks him for one more chance.

“I wanted to ask you out,” he says into the darkness of his eyelids. “I’ve been trying to ask you out because you’re very lovely and charming, Harold, and I keep failing and buying a million trees. I want to take you on a date. I want to take you on a lot of dates. And I like your dimples.”

He pauses. “But I waited too long and all the trees are gone and so were you. But I came back anyway. Which is really silly, isn’t it?”

When Harry doesn’t respond, it’s with a sinking heart that Louis vaguely wonders if he left during his little confession, snuck away to spend Christmas Eve with someone who’s not so desperate. But when he opens his eyes, Harry’s still there, and he is, surprisingly, staring at Louis’ hands.

“You’re wearing my mittens,” Harrys says.

Louis stills for a beat. “Do you want them back?”

Harry blinks and meets his eyes. A snowflake sticks to his eyelash. “No.” He pauses, then reaches up and pulls his blue wool hat off of his head. “You must be cold, in the snow like this,” he says softly, and he actually reaches forward and puts the hat on Louis’ head, and it’s truly, wonderfully warm. Louis’ heart hammers as Harry brushes his fringe out of his eyes with gentle fingers, and the look in his eyes is so soft it causes a physical ache in Louis’ chest.

Louis stares at him.

“Harry,” he says, “Harold. Harrison.”

“What,” Harry says faintly, staring back at him.

“Will you go out with me?”

The last word is barely out of Louis’ mouth and Harry is nodding, nodding so vigorously his curls falls out from behind his ears and he’s saying, “Yes. Yes, please.”

Louis blinks at him. Okay. He said yes. Harry said yes.

“Thank you,” Louis says, because Harry was polite so he should be polite back and he has no idea what else to say, and he probably looks like a bloody idiot laying on the ground like this.

“You’re welcome.”

Then Harry smiles, and it’s so wide and bright, absolutely blinding and he said yes. They’re going to go on a date. He’s going to go on a date with Harry. He feels himself smiling back, tentative, almost.

Harry lays down beside him, curls splaying in the snow, and he’s looking at Louis, cheek pressed to the icy ground and he doesn’t even seem to care. Louis’s pretty sure his smile could melt a thousand ice caps.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask that,” Harry says, and his voice comes out in a rush of white air. “I was so sure you were going to do it at your birthday party, because well, I even told you I liked you, didn’t I? I told you I thought you were pretty. I gave you that charm! And then you didn’t, and it was driving me crazy, Louis, because you’re so wonderful, and funny, and gorgeous and when I thought you asked Liam out that kind of crushed me, you know? But you kept buying trees-”

“I’m a fool.” Louis covers his face with his hands, embarrassed.

He feels one of Harry’s gently pull his hand away, press his fingers against Louis’ through his mitten. There’s a soft smile on his face. “You’re not.”

Louis just looks at him. Harry continues. “And then Zayn texted me today saying you’d probably come here, and I thought, well, there are no more trees to buy, are there?”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand, just a little. He can feel the cold of his fingers seeping through the wool.

“I still think I’m a fool,” he says.

“You’re brilliant,” Harry says, voice so earnest Louis might just actually believe it. There are two little red patches on his cheeks, eyes shiny as glass. “And Louis, I’d really, really like to kiss you, if that’s alright?”

Louis almost chokes on a snowflake, palms suddenly clammy inside the mittens. “Very alright.”

Everything is very silent, all of the sudden, the park is hushed with fallen snow and maybe neither of them are breathing, but then Harry’s lips are on his, and snow isn’t falling on his face anymore and it’s warm, warm, warm. Louis’ toes curl in his boots and Harry’s lips are smiling and soft and sweet, he tastes like hot chocolate and candy canes and Louis could probably kiss him forever. He slips his hand out of Harry's grasp in favor of bringing them up to Harry’s face, cupping his cold cheeks in his mittened hands. He wants to keep Harry warm always, just like Harry does to him.

When Louis kisses his cold nose, and his forehead, both cheeks and the dimples that have taunted him for weeks, Harry starts to giggle so hard he buries his face in Louis’ neck, and Louis wouldn’t really mind if he stayed there.

“When I get back from my mum’s after Christmas,” Louis says into Harry’s hair, which smells lovely, like strawberries and sugar cookies, “I am taking you out on the best date of your life.”

Harry leans up, kisses Louis on the lips again. “Alright.” He’s smiling so sweetly and so happily, and his cheeks are beautifully flushed. Like Christmas has come early, and maybe it has.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Louis says, and Harry just shushes him with another kiss.

“Hey Lou?” Harry whispers once he pulls away. The snowflakes are getting caught in his curls, everything is calm around them and Louis never wants to move.

“Yeah?” Louis says, meeting his eyes.

“Happy birthday.”

Louis leans up to capture his lips in another kiss. What he really wants, he thinks to himself as Harry’s warm hand curls around his jaw and he kisses him deeper, is a million Harry days, every day.

*  * * 

One Year Later

“Looouuu, come on,” Harry says, tugging on Louis’ hand as they walk down the sidewalk.

“I am walking at a normal human pace, Harold,” Louis says, but grips his boyfriend’s hand more firmly in his own, curling his fingers around Harry’s through his yellow mittens. “We can’t all have legs as long as streetlamps like you.”

Harry looks back at Louis. “I love your tiny legs.”

“I’m not tiny.”

Harry just hums, lips pressed together in a smile as he leads Louis down the street. He could be leading Louis to a garbage pit, and Louis would follow him, probably.

As it turns out, Harry does not lead him to a garbage pit, but to his and Liam’s little Christmas tree lot, right on the edge of the park, same as last year. This spot is like sacred ground for them, and seeing all the trees lined up, new and healthy and green, breathing in the fresh smell of pine, it all comes flooding back to Louis. Harry’s dimples for the first time, his curls and his smell and his smile, getting to know his lips, falling in love more and more every day since then. It almost makes him dizzy.

It’s quiet, though. Strangely, no one else seems to be around.

“We’re not quite open yet,” Harry murmurs, pressing into Louis side. “Liam said you could have fist pick.”

Louis blinks. “Me? Why?”

Harry drops a kiss to the side of his forehead, beneath his blue wool hat, lips so warm they send a shiver down Louis’ spine, and he presses closer. “Because,” Harry says, pulling away and meeting his eyes, green and bright. “We’ve got to find the perfect Louis tree, haven’t we? No one else can steal the best one first.”

Because- right. It’s their Louis tree this year. As in, they’ll be putting it in their flat, and it will be both of theirs. They’d found a place of their own a few months ago, right after Zayn moved in with Liam. Niall bounces between them, like a child they all share custody of.

The thought of their own tree, of decorating it together their own flat, making it beautiful in their own way and hanging baubles between kisses and sips of hot chocolate, fills Louis to the brim with warmth, and he presses a kiss to Harry’s mouth with grinning lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Harry says without missing a beat. He takes Louis’ hand. “Come on, then, it’s very important that we find the perfect one.”

It takes Louis a moment to realize that Harry’s lead him to the section of smaller trees, and it’s the stupid, cheeky dimple on Harry’s face that clues him in first.

He stops and spins Harry around by the shoulders, and the little wanker is grinning at him. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you.”

Harry’s grin merely widens, and this is all very amusing to him, isn’t it. Louis fucking loves this boy to the moon and back.

He steers Harry backward by the shoulders and he goes easily, blindly lead until he’s pressed back against one of the taller trees. Branches and pine needles frame Harry’s face and tangle in his curls and when Louis leans in, it smells of Christmas and peppermint and gingerbread and strawberries and Harry.

Louis leans in slowly, almost taunting, until Harry grows too impatient and meets his lips first, warm and smiling.

It’s only about ten minutes later when Louis pulls Harry out of the branches, rosy cheeked and smelling of pine, that he takes Harry’s hand and marches him to the taller trees. It’s very important business, after all, to find the perfect Louis tree, and they need to get to it.