Work Text:
“Liam,” Harry says sweetly, batting his eyelashes a bit for good measure, “do you have a pencil I could borrow?”
Liam sighs, like Harry’s existence is a hardship, which is probably semi-true given how often he forgets his pencil and has to bother Liam for one. He’s been part of this choir for a few years, and part of ones in high school long before then, yet he always forgets his pencil and half the time he forgets water, too. It’s amazing that he’s made it this far in life. At least, that’s what Liam said the last time he asked for a writing utensil.
“You know this is our last rehearsal with music, right?” Liam asks, even as he produces another pencil from his pocket and hands it over. “You should’ve written everything down by now. Next rehearsal is memorized, then dress, then the performance.”
“I still think it’s dumb that we’re expected to be memorized this year,” Niall chimes in. “We’ve never had to be memorized before!”
“It’s the new director,” Harry says. “He wants us to be more professional.”
“Well, he did save us from ruin this past season and lobbied for the parks and recs program to keep us in the budget, so I think the least we can do is memorize our music,” Liam says.
Harry hums. Liam has a point: Ashton really did save them this past season, swooping in like a white knight to prevent their funding from getting cut and to keep the arts alive in their town. Apparently he’s one of Calum’s friends (although Harry doubts friend is the most accurate word to use there) and loves a good cause, and although this is his first season directing he’s done it well so far. That doesn’t mean that Harry is enthusiastic about the extra work of memorizing his music, even if he typically practices enough to naturally do so, anyway.
Liam doesn't have a chance to reiterate his point and try to drive home just how bad Niall and Harry's work ethic is, because at that moment Ashton himself strides into the rehearsal space, folder tucked under his arm and already undoing his scarf.
"Good evening, everyone!" he calls as conversations die down around the room. "Hope you're all well. We'll be getting started shortly, but first I'd like to introduce you to our pianist for this concert. Obviously since we're not acapella like last concert I can't sit there playing the accompaniment. No one wants that, but Michael has graciously agreed to be here for our next few rehearsals and play for us at the concert. Michael?"
Ashton turns to the piano, finds it empty, and frowns.
"Uh, has anyone seen Michael? Calum, do you know where he is?"
Every set of eyes in the room swivels towards the tenor. Calum shrugs.
"He's here somewhere. I lost track of him after we got out of the car."
Ashton sighs. It's the same sigh he uses when the choir isn't getting a harmony that he's already played ten times, the kind that typically makes Harry dig his heels in and work harder.
It's comforting that someone else can make Ashton this exasperated, though. If Michael is making Ashton sigh like that without even being in the room, Harry feels a bit better about the choir's general inability to sight read harmonies.
"Okay," Ashton says, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to start warmups. Cal, can you call him and tell him to get his ass over here before I fire him? Let him know I'm serious."
"He won't buy it," Calum says. "He knows that he's the best accompanist you could get, especially this short notice."
"Just get him here, please?"
Ashton makes it almost the entire way through their usual warmups before someone new enters. Harry assumes it's Michael based on the sheepish way he approaches the piano and the way Ashton pointedly doesn't look at him. He has a beanie stuffed over blonde hair, dark pants, and a black sweatshirt, and he looks as young as Harry and Ashton, if not younger. That doesn't mean that he can't be a great pianist, but there's not much time to learn the music, and Harry doesn't know what his practice schedule is going to be like if he's showing up to rehearsal late despite apparently being somewhere in the building. Still, Harry likes the look of him. He gives Ashton a wide smile that makes him deflate when he actually graces him with a look, and Harry swoons a bit. It's a cute smile.
"Everyone, this is Michael Clifford, our accompanist," Ashton says, standing and letting Michael take the piano bench instead. "He's going to be on time from now on."
"There were snacks," Michael protests weakly.
"Those are for the company holiday party using the auditorium, not for us."
"Oh,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “I thought they were a bit Christmas-y."
Ashton sighs again, then turns back to the choir.
"Let's start with "O Holy Night," shall we? From the beginning, I'll stop you when I need to. Music is okay today, but we're memorized for the next rehearsal, so try to look away."
Ashton consults with Michael about tempo while everyone gets their music. The piano player flips through the sheets once, nods at Ashton, and then Ashton counts them off.
Harry forgets to sing.
Michael is an amazing player. He's obviously sight reading, completely focused on the sheet music except for the very occasional glance at Ashton's conducting, but he doesn't miss a note. Harry has been around many accompanists, and they all get the job done, but not all of them could sight read a piece of music perfectly. In fact, none of them could, not with an accompaniment like this. Harry has looked at the intricate piano line many times in the past wondering what it would sound like, and Michael hits every grace note and chord, even when he has to roll them because his hands aren't large enough to reach all the notes at once.
The one thing missing is his expression. Technically Harry is pretty sure the playing is perfect, but there's no feeling in it, and Michael's face is almost bored the entire time. It’s common to focus more on technicalities than expression when sight reading, but Michael could easily put some feeling into his playing.
Ashton cuts everyone off halfway through the song to go over a harmony they still haven't quite locked in and remind everyone where they’re allowed to breathe. Harry finally pulls his eyes away from the pianist and focuses on the music instead, but he finds his eyes constantly drifting back to Michael over the course of the rehearsal.
He even manages to hit everything correctly in their arrangement of "The Christmas Song," which has more accidentals than usual. Harry is amazed. He’s astounded. He’s feeling a little warm.
There’s nothing as attractive as a musical man. One who plays piano is even better, because he obviously knows how to use his hands. Michael already was an attractive man when he first walked in, but then he smiled, and then he started playing. Harry falls in love pretty quickly, but this might be a record.
Michael leaves the room as soon as rehearsal ends, standing from the piano and walking straight out the door the moment Ashton dismisses everyone, meaning that Harry doesn’t have a chance to talk to him even though he gathers his belongings in record time. It’s disheartening, but he brushes his disappointment away. He has a few rehearsals left, and he’ll be sure to talk to him next time.
“Hey,” Louis says, nudging him out of his thoughts. “Ready to go?”
"Yeah," Harry says, already heading to the door. Louis takes a moment to get his feet to move and catch up.
"Really?" he asks. "You don't want to bother Liam and Niall more?"
"No, let's go home."
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Yeah, fine. I just have some stuff to do."
Louis frowns.
"Like what?"
"I think... I'm going to make cookies. Everyone likes cookies, right? Michael said he was late because there were snacks."
"Michael? The accompanist?" Louis stops in his tracks. "Harry, do you have a crush? Are you trying to woo the accompanist with baked goods? You know that hasn't gone over very well in the past."
Now it's Harry's turn to frown.
"That's not my fault. I make good cookies. I used to work in a bakery."
"Yeah, sweeping the back and occasionally manning the till."
Harry's frown deepens. Louis sighs and wraps an arm around his shoulders, continuing their walk out to the car.
"Come on, cheer up. I know your cookies are great, but I don't want you to get your hopes up only to have your heart broken, especially when you don't even know if this guy is worth it."
"It's just cookies," Harry says. "I'll save you some if you help me."
Louis considers, but Harry knows he's got him. Harry is the only reason that they have consistent food in the apartment, because Harry is the one who likes cooking. And baking. And doing the laundry. And most of the cleaning (except taking out the garbage).
Honestly, what is Louis going to do when Harry woos Michael and leaves to be his househusband?
"Okay," Louis says. "But be sure he's worthy of your cookies before you give them to him."
"Louis, he played piano perfectly while sight-reading. He even got all the accidentals in "The Christmas Song." What more could I ask for?"
"Ugh, don't remind me about the fucking accidentals," Louis groans. "You're lucky you're on baritone. The tenors have a terrible harmony in that one."
Louis launches into a rant, one that Harry has memorized because he’s heard it so many times before. Harry tunes him out and does a mental checklist of their ingredients to ensure he has everything he needs for Michael's cookies.
-/-
Michael won't stop talking to Calum.
Harry was happy to see him walk in a few minutes before the start of rehearsal, but he hasn't left Calum's side since, keeping up a consistent line of chatter that Harry has no hope of interrupting. It's nice to see him energetic and passionate rather than sheepish or bored, but at this rate Harry's never going to get to talk to him because Calum is taking all of his attention.
Harry is pretty sure that Calum is dating Ashton. He's had conversations with half the choir about it, and he's certain he caught a glimpse of them kissing before the last concert, although it was dark and he looked away quickly to give them some privacy. Calum and Ashton certainly act like they're dating and trying to hide it, but what if Harry is wrong? What if Harry doesn't stand a chance with Michael because Michael is already seeing someone? Is Harry going to spend the next few weeks being jealous of Calum , of all people?
Ashton enters the room with much less fanfare than last time, setting down his folder and wandering over to Michael and Calum to speak to them. Calum greets him with a sweet smile and Ashton puts a hand on his shoulder as he talks, letting his fingers brush Calum's cheek on the way down and lingering there long after Michael has rolled his eyes and gone to the piano.
Yeah, Harry is pretty sure that Calum and Ashton are dating, even if Michael carpools with Calum and enjoys talking his ear off. Harry still has a chance, and if Michael does have someone else then Harry can’t be faulted for not knowing.
The rehearsal goes relatively smoothly, except Harry is even more distracted by Michael given that he doesn't appear to be actually looking at the music. He has it in front of him so Ashton can tell him measure numbers when they stop and restart, but he rarely looks at it, instead watching Ashton's tempos, closing his eyes and stretching out his neck while he plays, or letting his eyes wander around the room.
He catches eyes with Harry at one point and quirks an eyebrow. Harry quickly turns his attention back to Ashton and hopes he's not blushing too noticeably, but he still watches Michael more than the conductor.
He can’t believe he memorized the music after only one rehearsal. This guy is amazing.
Michael doesn't run out of the room the moment that rehearsal ends this time, which means that Harry can take a moment to gather his things (including a tupperware container full of cookies) and his wits before following him out.
"Hey!" he calls, jogging a bit to catch up with him. Michael glances over his shoulder, then eyes Harry when he falls into step beside him.
"Hey," he says warily. "Harry, right?"
"Yeah," Harry beams. He has no clue when Michael heard his name given the size of the choir, but he's very pleased that their very first introduction isn't going to be Harry hitting on him. "How's it going?"
"Fine," Michael says, glancing at Harry again. "What about you?"
"Good, good," Harry says. "I love having an accompanist for the choir. Ashton is fine when we're learning the notes, but he's not exactly a piano player, no offense to him. It's nice to hear the actual piano line."
Michael snorts.
"Ashton's a shit piano player. He's alright at guitar, though."
"Well, to thank you for saving us from his playing at the concert, I made you some cookies! I hope you're not allergic to anything, but they're mostly sugar cookies with buttercream frosting, with a few gingerbread ones thrown in."
He holds out the tupperware. Michael blinks at it before turning a disbelieving grin at Harry.
"You made me cookies?" he asks, lifting up the corner of the lid to look at them and take in the Christmas trees, stockings, reindeer, and snowflakes. "Oh. They're Christmas cookies."
"Is that a problem?" Harry asks. "I thought it was appropriate, since you're accompanying our holiday concert, but you don't have to take them if you don't want to."
"No, it's fine!" Michael says, pulling the tupperware fully out of Harry's grip. "These are my cookies now. No take backs. I just don't like Christmas very much, that's all."
"Why?" Harry asks, frowning. Then he gasps. "Wait, are you Jewish? Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed--"
"No, no, I'm not Jewish. I'm not much of anything, really. I just used to work retail, and this was always the worst time of year," Michael says with a sigh. He looks up, like he was going to roll his eyes but decided it was too much effort. "Everyone is rushing around trying to find gifts and being rude about it, and everyone is more stressed than usual, and you're supposed to buy gifts for people that they'll just end up returning the next week anyway, and you hear the same four songs over and over and over , and most of the time they're not even good songs. Believe me, if I could put a hit out on Mariah Carey, I would."
"But... what about the joy?" Harry frowns. "The Christmas cheer?"
"The older I've gotten, the more I've realized that with Christmas, the bad outweighs the good. When you can believe in Santa it's fine, but even when I was a kid I thought Santa was an asshole for giving some kids coal instead of presents. Also, he only ever gave me socks. What kid wants to get socks from Santa?"
"Why are you accompanying a holiday concert if you hate Christmas?" Harry asks. Michael shrugs.
"Ashton asked me to. Besides, I like playing, and at least you guys aren't doing "All I Want for Christmas Is You.""
Harry hums. They did that one last year, and it didn't go very well. As a choir, they're much more suited to classical pieces than pop songs.
"Do you do other concerts?" Harry asks. "You're really good. Like, really good. I've been watching and you hardly need to look at the music, but you hit every note."
"You've been watching?" Michael asks, raising his eyebrows.
"You're nice to look at," Harry flirts, just to test the waters. Michael smiles and side-eyes him.
"To answer your question, I don't play other concerts, usually," Michael says. "Maybe I would if all of them had such wonderful baritones, but I only ever do it when one of my friends asks. Piano has always come easy, so I wasn't willing to put in the work necessary to do it professionally, you know? I don't want to have to hustle. It's just something I do for fun."
Harry hums. Sometimes he thinks about whether he should've tried to go into music, but he also thinks he wouldn't enjoy it as much if it was his job. He likes the choir, he likes singing karaoke with his friends, and he likes teaching himself guitar badly from YouTube videos. Having to do it all the time with the pressure of earning money might change that.
Besides, if Michael was famous, he probably wouldn't have landed in Harry's little corner of the world, playing piano for a community choir instead of at a famous opera house or equally grand venue.
"I get that," Harry says. "I'm glad Ashton asked you to play for us."
Michael hums and considers Harry again. "Yeah," he says eventually. "Me too."
They've reached the front doors now, a small barrier from the cold outside. Harry sticks his hands in his pockets and casts around for something to say, but comes up empty. He has to step aside to let a few other choir members through, and when they pass Michael turns to him again.
"I'd love to tell you how the cookies taste," he says. "I'm sure they'll be amazing, but if you give me your number you can get my enthusiastic first reaction."
Smooth. Harry can respect it. It's definitely not the worst excuse someone has tried on him to get his number, and it saves Harry the trouble of having to figure out how to ask Michael for his. He hands over his phone easily, balancing the cookies for Michael while he types in his number then sends himself a quick text, and once he's confirmed that he now knows how to contact Harry he smiles again.
"I've got to get the car warm for Calum, otherwise he'll throw a fit once he and Ashton are done canoodling," Michael says. "Expect a text from me soon, though."
"Have a nice night," Harry says. "I'm looking forward to it."
-/-
Michael keeps his promise and texts Harry later that night about the cookies, including a lot of exclamation marks and happy emojis. Louis reads it over his shoulder when he sees him smiling so widely at it and says that at least Michael has a good appreciation for Harry's gifts, but Harry is too busy replying to mind.
It turns out that texting Michael is extremely easy. Conversation flows constantly between them, first about food, then about favorite movies, music, other hobbies, and work. Michael is funny and uses emojis liberally, almost as much as Harry himself does, and Harry loves checking his phone to see a new message or question waiting for him. Harry finds himself waiting on the edge of his seat for whatever Michael is about to say next, whether it's the answer to a question, a new random thought, or the flirty texts that have become a bit more pronounced each time one of them sends one.
For once in Harry's life, seduction-via-cookies seems to be working. In fact, it's working better than he could've dared to hope, because the only thing that keeps Michael from being perfect is that he hates Harry's favorite holiday. Even that isn't a huge deal, because Harry is confident that he can at least get Michael feeling neutral about it if they spend enough time together. Sure, Michael has been burned by the retail experience, but there's a lot of magic still to be found in the Christmas season. Harry thinks he’s at least shown him a little bit of that magic with the cookies, and he’s determined to show him more.
That’s how he finds himself in Michael’s car after their dress rehearsal, Calum left to catch a ride with Ashton, Louis heading home alone. Harry is on a quest to show Michael a little bit of the true Christmas spirit, and Michael has been kind enough to indulge him.
(Michael actually is the one who suggested that Harry take him out and try to convince him that Christmas doesn’t suck. Harry is going to have to start initiating something in this relationship, because so far Michael has a leg up on him.)
“So,” Michael asks, drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel. They’re still in the parking lot of the church that they’ll be performing in, letting everyone else leave first. Harry spent a long time inside the church looking at all the decorations. It’s beautiful, even if it’s not fully decked out for Christmas yet.
“Where to?” Michael asks. “Show me the meaning of Christmas, Harry!”
“Well, the true meaning of Christmas is in your heart,” Harry says. Michael shoots him an unimpressed look, so Harry puts an address into his phone and lets the map direct them, both of them making small talk in between the automated voice commanding them where to turn. When they finally arrive at the destination, Michael cautiously pulls into a parking spot and peers out the window.
“A light display?” Michael asks. “I’ve seen Christmas lights before.”
“But you haven’t seen them with me,” Harry says. “It’ll be different, trust me. Come on!”
He manages to coax Michael out of the car and pays their entrance fee. It’s a bit late in the night, meaning that the crowd has thinned slightly, but Michael still sticks close to him. Harry gets the hint and takes his hand, making him smile.
There are millions of lights strung up in various shapes and formations along the path, creating tunnels for them to walk through or scenes to watch. They linger for a long time at each display set to music, and Harry watches the multi-colored flashes dance across Michael’s face.
“They’re pretty, I guess,” Michael says eventually.
“I think they’re beautiful,” Harry replies. “I like that they chase away the dark. I hate how dark it gets in winter, but the lights feel like our way of fighting back, you know? Even when things seem bad, we can still find ways to make them better and more bearable.”
“That’s nice,” Michael hums. “I kind of like the dark.”
“Emo,” Harry teases, carrying a joke from their texting when Michael said he listens to My Chemical Romance. Michael sticks out his tongue, then returns to watching the lights. Harry can tell that he isn’t convinced yet, though, so he takes Michael a bit further to a hot cocoa hut where they can step inside and get a break from the cold. They’re serving eggnog, cider, and other festive drinks as well, but hot cocoa is the best, and Harry orders two cups for them. They find a table off to the side where they can sit and warm themselves a bit, the atmosphere calm and peaceful. The hut itself is a rustic design, with lots of exposed wood and pine boughs decorating the tables, and Harry loves it.
“I try to come here every year for the cocoa,” Harry says. “It’s so good. I like a lot of festive drinks, actually.”
“You know you can drink them year-round, right? You have that power,” Michael muses. Harry sighs, although he does it with a smile. He likes that Michael is still giving him a chance despite his stubbornness. Harry would hate to start a relationship with someone who refused to challenge him or to compromise.
“It tastes better when it’s cold out. I appreciate it more now.”
Michael takes a sip of his cocoa and hums in satisfaction. Harry counts it as a win, especially when Michael’s shoe presses against his under the table.
“To me, Christmas is about making the most out of a bad situation,” Harry says. “It’s cold. It’s dark all the time. Sidewalks are slippery and snow gets in your shoes. Winter doesn’t have many redeeming qualities, but Christmas opposes all of that. It says “I’m going to take horrible conditions and make something joyful out of it instead. I’m going to put up lights to fight the dark, show my friends and family I love them with gifts, and encourage everyone to sing and be jolly.” Even Christmas trees are about how life goes on despite hard times, and Santa gives kids something to look forward to and hope in when there’s not much else. That’s why it’s my favorite holiday.”
Michael nods slowly, sipping his drink. Harry watches him.
“I like how much you like it,” Michael says. “And I can admit that there’s maybe a few redeeming qualities.”
Harry breaks into a grin. Michael tries to hide his own grin in his cocoa, but Harry isn’t blind. He can see it as clear as the lights outside.
They spend a bit more time in the hut, then continue on the path through more light displays until they get back to the front. Harry pulls Michael aside before the last display, glancing up until they’re in position.
“How do you feel about mistletoe?” he asks. Michael’s eyes light up, which means that Harry is contractually obliged to draw this out. “It’s a Christmas thing, so I get if you don’t want to–”
“Shut up,” Michael laughs. “I want to. I’m willing to kiss on the first date.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m a Christmas traditionalist and mistletoe happens to be part of this display,” Harry says, glancing up. Michael follows his gaze and spots the green plant hanging above them. When he looks back down, Harry leans in, hands landing on his waist. It’s cold and their lips are chapped, but Michael tastes like hot cocoa and kisses him back in kind.
Michael takes him on a detour to McDonalds before dropping him off at home, extending the night because neither of them particularly want to say goodbye. He sings along to the radio as he drives, the station tuned to modern pop rather than Christmas songs. He has a good voice. It has a really interesting quality to it, one that Harry could see allowing him to sell out venues with an electric guitar and explosive stage presence.
“You know, the only thing that could make your piano playing better is some passion,” Harry says. Michael glances at him, but doesn’t pause his passionate rendition of the latest Taylor Swift song. “You’re amazing, but everyone can tell when you’re bored. If you played with half the passion you’re singing with right now, you’d be incredible. You’d steal the show.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not, then,” Michael says at a break after the chorus. “It’s supposed to be about you guys. I’m just there for support.”
Harry hums.
“Besides, I’m not exactly thrilled with the song choices. Maybe if Ashton invites me back in the spring and you guys do some good pieces you’ll get the full brunt of my talent.”
Harry hums again. Michael pulls into the drive-through and looks at him.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Harry shrugs. “I just think you have the opportunity to put on an amazing show and make people really happy by listening to you. Even if you don’t like Christmas, there’s some merit in the music. The piano melodies are really pretty.”
“If you say so,” Michael says. “Maybe I’ll put a little passion in there, just for you.”
“Really?” Harry asks, heart jumping.
“Sure, why not,” Michael says, oblivious. “Do you want fries?”
-/-
The night of the concert brings a few nervous jitters and a lot of excited ones. Harry dresses in his best concert black with a green tie for an accent, and he meets the rest of the choir behind the sanctuary of the church with a wide smile and encouraging words for everyone. Michael joins them shortly, and to Harry’s delight he beelines right to him rather than chatting with Calum like he had the past two rehearsals.
“Hey. You clean up nice,” he says, giving Harry a once-over with a hand on his arm.
“Thanks, so do you.”
Michael put on a suit coat for the occasion. Harry has always been a sucker for men in formal clothing, even if Michael’s style leans more towards oversized streetwear.
“Are you excited?” Michael asks. “Ready to spread the Christmas spirit with your carols?”
He says it sarcastically, but Harry sees right through him. He’s happy to be here.
“Of course,” he replies. “Are you?”
Michael shrugs.
“Will you do it for me?”
Michael rolls his eyes.
“You can’t use that card too often or it’s going to lose its power,” he says.
“But does it have power now?” Harry asks cheekily.
“Maybe. Guess you’ll have to wait until the concert to see.”
Michael kisses Harry’s cheek, then leaves to go over logistics with Ashton. Harry continues his rounds, chatting with friends and giving comforting words to anyone experiencing stage fright, and before he knows it it’s time to line up for the concert.
Harry takes his place on the risers and lets his eyes sweep over the crowd. He picks out a few friends who are there to support him, then meets Michael’s eyes during Ashton’s pre-concert speech. Michael waggles his eyebrows and winks. Harry tries not to laugh.
When Ashton counts them off, Michael takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and plays with a smile on his face.