Chapter Text
"Surprise!"
Louis startles, nearly dropping the plate in his hand in surprise. "Are you serious?" he asks a second later, in a wary tone, and after a beat, he ends up laughing. "I thought this was a onetime thing."
"Noooope!" says Harry cheerfully, popping the 'p' and setting the rainbow cake in his hands down onto their dining table. "Happy coming out officially to the public day!"
"That's not a holiday, Harry," he giggles as Harry wraps his arms around him from behind. He turns back to the task at hand, drying the plate in his hand and reaching upward to place it into their drawers. Harry doesn't help, just simply being a comforting presence behind him and it's only a few minutes later that he finishes his task.
"It should be a holiday," says Harry, still nuzzling into his neck. "I mean, I'm sure the Larries will agree with me." Harry suddenly brightens, "They will, won't they? Be right back."
Harry's dashing off and Louis just shakes his head in fondness, already missing the warmth from Harry. He sits down at their table, eying the cake and wondering if he's allowed to start eating without Harry. His phone goes off a second later and he's unlocking it, already knowing what he's going to see. There's a twitter notification and he's really not surprised to see Harry's tweet of "@Louis_Tomlinson: Happy coming out officially to the public day! #LarryStylinsonForever." Louis just shakes his head, laughing quietly to himself at the ridiculousness that's his boyfriend, and he dutifully tweets back.
"@Harry_Styles: Please humor him. He wants this as a holiday, so please make him happy? #happycomingoutofficiallytothepublicday."
Christina retweets it almost immediately, and Louis can't help laughing. The girl's obsessed with their love and while she's one of his best friends now, he can't help but tease her for her obsession with them. Her favorite days on the Voice are always whenever Harry came to visit.
Harry comes barreling into the room a second later, plopping down onto Louis' lap when he reaches him. "You saw my tweet," he breathes out, happily.
"I always see your tweets."
Harry makes a contented hum, before twisting in his lap and throwing his arms behind his neck. "I love you, Lou." He presses one kiss to Louis' nose, three fast ones to his lips, and one on his forehead before jumping off of Louis. "I have another surprise."
He pulls out the iPad that's been charging on their kitchen wall, opening it up and showing Louis the screen. "I already got all the ingredients," says Harry, opening up the fridge and taking out the egg carton.
"Did you seriously look on pinterest and find a cake to bake?" laughs Louis. The cake on the picture looks normal at first, but when cut open, there's a rainbow heart in the middle. It looks difficult, but Louis has no doubt in his mind that Harry will be able to bake it.
"Maybe," blushes Harry and a second later he's giggling, "'Cuz it's kinda like us, you know? We had to hide our love from the public, but two years ago from today, we were able to finally show our rainbow hearts."
"You, Harry Edward Styles, are a sap."
Harry shrugs his shoulders, "Can't say I want to deny that. You make me sappy, Lou."
"Jesus, Harry." He sets the iPad gently on the table before standing and making his way over to Harry. He watches Harry set up most of the ingredients with a small smile, watching as Harry pours the sugar into a cup and sets it aside. "I love you," slips out a second later, and Harry's whipping his head up to beam happily at him.
"Are you going to help or are you just going to watch me?" teases Harry, and Louis shrugs.
"Maybe just watch. I mean, I had to wash the dishes so I've done my share of hard work for the day."
"Right," drawls Harry, "because washing dishes is so very hard."
"Yup!" Louis agrees, and laughs when Harry levels him an unimpressed look. "Fine, fine, I'll whisk the eggs."
Harry studies him for a second, "Can I trust you with them? I want them fluffy, Lou, fluffy!"
"How hard can it be to whisk eggs?" he says, dismissively, taking the whisk and the bowl with the cracked eggs in them. "Stop looking down at me, Hazza, I'm a better cook now, promise."
"We had to order take out yesterday," deadpans Harry, who is now setting the oven up. "Because you burned the chicken and it caught fire."
"Little details," he waves off, dismissively. "And fire is necessary for cooking so I hardly see your point."
Harry gives a loud sigh, but there's a smile on his face as he straightens up from the oven.
The cake turns out perfect. The heart is even better shaped than the one on Pinterest. Harry's humming contently, hovering over the finished product and taking a million pictures for his Instagram.
Louis lets his love enjoy himself for a few minutes longer before wrapping his arms around Harry's waist from behind. Harry turns, his green eyes bright and full of love and affection, "Happy coming out officially to the public day," he whispers.
Louis smiles fondly at him for a second. "You know, there's another thing I want to celebrate, sweetcheeks."
"What's that?" asks Harry, already turning back to his phone with Instagram open. So he's completely surprised when Louis lowers his tone and leans tantalizing close to his ear.
"We should celebrate the fact that we had sex two years ago today."
Harry lets out a squawk of a laugh before dissolving into a fit of giggles. "Did we even have sex that day?"
"Probably," says Louis, "We aim to have sex everyday."
"Yes, because you're a nympho."
"Harryyy," he whines.
Harry takes pity on him, setting his phone down on the table and twisting in Louis' grip so he's facing him. "Alright, alright," says Harry, a smile teasing on his lips, "you have awoken the beast so prepare to be ravished!" And then he's throwing Louis onto his shoulder, and Louis' is laughing but at the same time, he's so painfully turned on it's ridiculous.
"The fair maiden protests this rough treatment," he murmurs into Harry's shoulder and is rewarded with a peal of laughter.
He's nervous and he knows he should take comfort in the fact that Zayn, Naill, and Liam are all right there next to him, but all he wants is Louis. He sighs, and Naill reaches over to slip his hand into Harry's, his eyes full of pity.
"You know he can't help it," says Naill, "and you have us three here for you. And it's only forten minutes, tops. He'll be back before you know it."
"But he's not here, and they're presenting Best Album of the Year and -"
Zayn cuts him off, "Harry."
Harry exhales hard, then does it once more. It works to calm him down, and he's significantly less panicked when he talks again. "You're right. And it's not like he won't be watching from the back. It's my first album without you guys, and I just really want to win."
"And you will," says Liam, his eyes as earnest as ever. Harry stares into them for a split second, and he feels the quiet calm from years ago settle into his bones and he smiles.
"Thanks, guys," he says. And he means it. Even after One Direction broke up, they're still the greatest friends he would ever have.
It's not long before they're reading out the nominees. He raises his glass to Ed Sheeran when his name is called and Ed nods back, solemnly, looking resplendent next to a sharply-dressed Taylor Swift.
"And the winner is...You Make me Strong by Harry Styles!"
Harry knocks over the wine glass that's sitting in front of him in shock, but the spill is averted when Liam hastily grabs it. Naill's laughing gleefully and Zayn is helping him stand up. "I want you guys to go up with me," he murmurs softly, and he's rewarded with one of Zayn's rare fond looks.
"Don't be silly," he says, reaching out and straightening up Harry's suit with nimble fingers. "We'll always be One Direction, Harry, don't you ever worry about that."
And he sends Harry off with a quick one-armed hug.
Harry's heart is warm as he heads up, and there's a dizzying rush to his head as he realizes that he really did win, that even without One Direction and the other boys, he's still great and the people still love him. He almost trips over the steps, as clumsy as ever and even worse without the boys to be there for him, but he eventually makes it. The presenter is smiling brilliantly at him, and she draws him close as she hands him the award. He stares at it for a second before taking it carefully into his hands and for a second, he finds himself wishing that Louis could be there with him right now to share in the moment with him.
His thoughts are interrupted when there's a sound of running footsteps and then suddenly arms he knows so well are wrapping around him and Louis' voice is in his ear. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees," Louis breathes out happily and Harry could tell his boyfriend is one step away from squealing loudly.
Harry squeals for him instead, twisting immediately and thoughts about the Grammy in his hand is flown to the back of his mind as he throws his arms around his boyfriend, taking in the fact that Louis had just broken so many rules to be there right now. "You're here!" he murmurs into the warmth of his boyfriend's neck, and is rewarded with a rich chuckle.
"I knew you would win," whispers Louis, "so proud of you, baby." He's pulling away immediately, probably not wanting to steal his thunder, but Harry refuses to let go of his hand and Louis' jolted back into place from the steps he was taking. "Harry," he hisses, but Harry turns to address the crowd as if Louis hadn't even spoken.
"He's presenting next," he explains for the benefit of the crowd in front of him and for the masses at home in front of their televisions and is rewarded with a laugh from the crowd. He flushes happily, at home on stage since he was sixteen, and when no one approaches to kick Louis off, he starts his award speech.
"One year ago, One Direction disbanded and we all went our separate ways. But, you know, truthfully, we're still One Direction," he pauses, hoping he doesn't seem too sappy, and pats his heart in the universal sign of forever, "in here. So, really, this is a Grammy for us, for One Direction, for the band that will always be a part of me. You boys are what kept me going through the darkest times and what made me continue loving music despite everything. And secondly, I want to thank my boyfriend of five years. Louis Tomlinson, you're the one who makes me strong despite the waves that always tried to break us. We're still tied up," he pauses, squeezing hard on Louis' hand, "and we always will be. This album is for you, and every song I wrote, and will write, is for you."
Louis is crying, and Harry can't help leaning forward and pressing one chaste kiss to his boyfriend's cheek before straightening up and facing the crowd again. He's crying too, and the crowd is mostly blurry to him as he finishes up his speech. "Thank you for everything." He waves with his free hand, before being spun around to face Louis. Louis eyes are bright with tears, but he's already rubbed off most of the wetness on his cheeks. His smile is brilliant and his expression is fond, and Harry loses a breath as he stares unapologetically.
"I love you," his boyfriend mouths at him, and then he's being ushered off the stage. He doesn't let go of Louis' hand till the very last second, and he's sure Louis is exasperated with how sappy he is being, but he doesn't care because the public had already accepted them and this means all the sappy declarations and the sappy happenings he can stomach doing.
"You are so ridiculous," says Zayn and then he's being hugged by his boys and even though the Grammy is still heavy and real in his hands, he would give it up just to be on stage with them one last time.
"Sing an album with me."
Louis looks up from where he's cutting tomatoes into the intense green eyes of his boyfriend. He laughs, startled since Harry wasn't supposed to return until the 18th, before surging forward and locking his lips onto Harry's.
Harry laughs too, his strong hands wrapping around Louis' waist and pulling him closer. "The knife!" he pulls away to say, and Louis steps away, guiltily, placing the knife back down onto the counter.
"Oops?"
Harry's expression softens and he places a chaste kiss to the top of his forehead. "Hi," he murmurs, his lips tickling his skin and Louis makes a face, even with a smile starting to form.
"You are ridiculous," he settles for saying.
"You conditioned me!" protests Harry.
"You don't always have to say hi when I say oops! That's so cheesy, Harry."
"The most romantic thing I've ever done," starts Harry, and Louis is laughing and leaning forward to cover Harry's mouth with his hands.
"Don't say it! It's embarrassing!"
Harry's laughing against his hands, and he's moving his hands in well-practiced motions, showcasing the chicken wrapped in parma ham that he had made for Harry so long ago.
"I can make better stuff now, you know," says Louis, a bit petulantly, and is rewarded with another giggle from his boyfriend. "You," he says darkly, removing his hands and using one to point angrily at his boyfriend's chest, "one more peep out of you and no fajitas for you."
"It's my recipe," says Harry, bemused.
"Shush, you," says Louis. "I'm adding a little twist." He pulls away to open one of the drawers above him, rummaging through the contents before he finds what he's looking for. He grabs it, plopping it down on the counter and drawing an amused look from Harry.
"Sugar. You're adding sugar," says Harry, wonder in his tone.
"You have to try it. It's amazing, promise."
"And here I thought I could trust you when you said you were getting better," teases Harry.
Louis scowls, and Harry's there immediately, peppering kisses on his nose and cheeks. "Don't be mad, Lou, I'm just teasing. I'm sure sugar is a brilliant addition to a savory dish."
"You're in trouble, Mr. Styles," he says darkly.
"Oh no, what ever could I do to make it up?" asks Harry, pulling away immediately and sending his best puppy eyes at Louis.
Louis pauses, pretending to think it over before letting a predatory smile spread across his face. "You..." he pauses, theatrically, "must cut the onions!"
Harry freezes, his green eyes growing wide and he stands there, his mouth gaping wide open for a second before he springs into action. "The onions? Good sir, you are wanting me to cry!"
"Yes," affirms Louis, and it's a struggle to keep his expression solemn.
"But why?" asks Harry, his lips drawn into a full-on pout. "Have I been a bad boy, Lou?"
"Very bad," says Louis, and he loses the battle, dissolving into laughter and drawing his boyfriend close. Harry immediately melts into his embrace, and for a minute, they just stand there, relishing each other's presence.
"I missed you," Louis whispers.
"Me too," says Harry, the sincerity behind his words ringing clear and true.
Louis makes a happy sound, burying himself even closer to Harry. "I missed your face. Your smile. Your curls."
Harry pulls away, "I knew it. You've always had this weird obsession with my curls."
Louis reaches upward, wrapping a curl around his small fingers and tugging hard. Harry mewls at the sensation, and Louis giggles. "Can't blame me. They're positively wonderful. Best thing about you."
Harry gasps, "My curls? You like my curls best? What if I go bald!?"
"Harry, you're only twenty-three. You're not going to bald."
"But, but, but -"
Louis cuts him off with a kiss. Harry relaxes into it until he's pulling away, and Louis pecks him once on the cheek. "You ridiculous, wonderful boy, I'm in love with each and every part of you."
And Harry laughs, and Louis giggles, and in that one second, Louis knows that even with the distance, even when Harry's touring, and he's off filming for the Voice, the two of them will always be fine.
"I wasn't kidding, you know," says Harry, when they've eaten and had sex and are now cuddling. "I want to sing an album with you."
Louis sleepily presses his face into Harry's arm. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he tries, because Harry is weird and likes to have serious pillow talk every now again and Louis can't really deny Harry anything.
"Sang a lot with you already," he mumbles sleepily.
"That was with the other boys, though," argues Harry, who seems to still be wide awake even after all their activities. Louis stifles a sigh, opening his eyes wide and trying to wake up just a bit more to humor Harry.
"Haaaaaarry," he starts and halfway through, a yawn hits him. "I'm not going to say no."
"Oh," says Harry, and a beat later, he seems to become even more excited. "They don't have to be new songs. What if we like resang all the songs and redid all the arrangements?"
"Sure," Louis says after a second.
"So Strong, Happily, They Don't Know About Us, 18, Fireproof, and -
"Jesus, Harry," laughs Louis, "you've been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?"
"It's not nice to interrupt, Lou," says Harry, and his smile is mischievous when he finishes his list. "No Control and Stockholm Syndrome."
Louis chokes, wide awake now. "Harry!"
"I want the whole world to know that you were so in love with me you wrote about our morning sex."
"Harry, that's -"
"Yup!" says Harry, brightly, "You already agreed to it, so no take backs!"
"It's not even a love song! It's about waking up next to you with a boner and wanting to -"
"Lie in your heat and burn in it all day," Harry says with a lovesick sigh. "So romantic, Lou."
"And Stockholm Syndrome makes me sound like a -"
"Nympho. Which you were," finishes Harry. "Still are," he corrects, a second later.
"And who was the one who picked me up and threw me on the bed a mere hour ago?"
"That's why it's called Stockholm Syndrome," says Harry. "Baby, look what you've done to me," he sings, and then continues in a dejected voice, "I've become a nympho just like you."
"Harryyyyyyy, you're being ridiculous. We are not letting the whole public know just what those songs were about."
Harry pouts, twisting in Louis' arms so he can aim his big green eyes at him. "Are you ashamed of me, Louis? Don't want people to know that we like to have sex in the morning?" Harry pauses, and his character breaks as he seems to suddenly think of something. "Early bird gets the wood on, right?"
Louis groans, "Oh my god, Harry, you promised you wouldn't mention that anymore!"
"Hands and knees for two days straight," continues Harry.
"How did we ever hide our relationship?" asks Louis, despairingly.
"Really good with my hands, aren't I, Louis? Just like I was with wood tech."
"Hazza, you made your point! Everyone probably already knows we have massive amounts of sex. I'll sing the bloody songs with you."
Harry giggles happily, and Louis feels the urge to continue. "You're a mischievous little thing, aren't you, love?"
"Only learned from the best," Harry cheekily replies, and Louis can't let him get away with that scot-free. He gently rolls Harry onto his back, moving to straddle Harry.
"I think someone deserves a little punishment," whispers Louis and at Harry's delighted giggle, proceeds to do just that.
"How much do 1,989 roses even cost?"
"That was ridiculous," laughs Louis. "I have no clue why that was even a rumor."
"I mean," continues Harry, his voice calm and deep in Louis' ear thanks to the wonder that was Apple's Facetime, "the only person I would ever want to send roses to is you."
Harry's face is speculative on his screen and Louis gets a bad feeling. "Why did this even come up again?" he asks, hating that he wasn't next to Harry in person. Harry's on Tour for You Make Me Strong and Louis had wanted to join him but they were still in the midst of filming for the Voice. But Facetime and religious watching of Harry's clips on YouTube keeps him sane (as well as living in the Harry Styles tag on Tumblr but he isn't going to be going around admitting that anytime soon.)
"One of the more vocal Haylor fans mentioned it during the concert last night. She was trying to use it as evidence that we're meant to be even though we came out long ago about how she was my beard."
"Well, I mean," says Louis, "you'll have to really love someone to send them close to two thousand roses."
"I would, wouldn't I?" says Harry, and suddenly, a smile blooms onto his love's face. "You're right, Lou, I would have to really love someone to send them that many roses."
"Harry," starts Louis, but Harry talks right over him.
"You're brilliant, Lou, really. I'll call you later tonight, okay? Love you!"
The call ends and Louis just laughs quietly to himself at the antics of his boyfriend. Even far away, Harry never fails to make him laugh.
Louis sighs dejectedly, taking an offered hug from Christina in an attempt to make himself feel better. "They were both so good," he murmurs into her embrace and she coos softly, running one of her small hands through his hair.
"It's tough," Christina says, sadly, "but not everyone can win, Louis."
"Don't I know it," he says, somewhat bitterly, but at the same time agreeing with her. He knows that the Voice is a competition, but deep down in his heart, all the singers on his team are so talented and he wants them all to win and live successfully.
"Oh my god," he says because some time in the few minutes Christina was distracting him, someone had moved a sea of roses onto the stage. He stares, shocked and open-mouthed at the scene and knows immediately just who is to blame.
Harry's face pops up onto the big screen a second later, and his smile is mischievous. "One thousand nine-hundred and ninety one roses for the love of my life."
Louis is scrambling to get his phone out, and he's calling Harry even though he knows the mischievous bastard is probably getting someone to film this for him live. He knows Harry will see his reaction a few hours later from the filming, but he wants Harry to see this now.
Harry picks up, and Louis squints confusedly at the screen. Because on the other side is a view of Louis' back and it takes him a long five seconds to realize what that means.
He's turning when Harry's suddenly there, and Louis laughs gleefully as he's swept up into his love's arms.
"You loveable idiot," he says fondly into Harry's curls.
"You don't like it?" asks Harry, his voice wavering as if he's actually really hurt.
"Harry, you sent me 1,991 roses. Of course I love it!"
Harry's throwing his head back laughing and Louis feels the urge to continue. "You know just how much I like roses, Harry. It's just the perfect amount for our bedroom. Actually, we can probably make a bed out of the roses. As long as they don't have thorns, I guess."
Harry giggles, "I will love you until the last rose dies."
"Oh my god, don't tell me -"
"Yup," says Harry, his eyes twinkling. "Out of those 1,991 roses, there's one plastic one. And it's your goal to find it so our love can keep burning strong."
"A lovesick fool. That's what you are," says Louis, shaking his head.
"But I'm your fool."
And then he's kissing Louis after so many months apart, and Louis laughs through it anyway because Harry's here and real and there's still a sea of bloody roses around them.