Archive of Our Own

“Baby, get the door!”

Harry is leisurely splayed in the middle of the big, volcanic grey, round, plush love seat adorning his living room, cosily enveloped by two, large fluffed pillows on either side, eyes preened on his too-big TV and the Mario Kart game he’s in the middle of.

Louis blinks, then yawns. 

He’s seated on the hard, pointy, asphalt grey two-seater sofa next to Harry, sipping his beer whilst casually watching the Switch game on the big screen; giving a half-arsed whoop as Harry’s character is banana peeled by Liam and is knocked down from his temporary 1st place.

There’s a second, polite knock at the front door of the apartment, following the previous one, barely heard over Zayn shouting as his player screen is shielded by black ooze and he, consequently, crashes into an NPC. 

“Baby!” Harry orders pointedly, giving Louis’ knee a distracted whack from where he’s sitting partly in front of Louis, blindly hitting any flesh he can reach as his eyes are still intensely fixed on the screen in front of him, his tongue out in concentration as he drives past Niall, moving him up on the scoring board once again. 

“Now, I know you’re not talking to me, because I’m sure as hell not your baby anymore,” Louis replies silkily, picking at the nail bed of his thumb nonchalantly. “I guess I’m not surprised you’re working your way through our friend group, though,” he adds sweetly and Harry groans.

There’s another knock, harder this time, and then Harry’s phone starts ringing.

“I’m ‘gonna lose!” Harry whines, begrudgingly edging closer to the tip of the seat to ready himself to get up, and Louis eyes it inconspicuously, but eagerly. 

“Get your arse up, Lou - we’re in the middle of a game!” Niall then complains loudly from the second sofa, angled towards the love seat, and Louis huffs, annoyed at having his friends think he’s the one being difficult and at fault here. 

Therefore, as the knocking intensifies, he stands up to let the visitor in and to get them off his back.

“Thank you. Baby, ” Harry smirks, and Louis flips him off.

When he opens the front door it is to a dark-haired, square-faced Ken look-alike, with a wide, white smile, plush lips, summer-tan skin, and a wide nose. 

Louis narrows his eyes.

“Yes?” he drawls obnoxiously and the demi-God widens his smile somehow even further and puts his hand out. 

“Hi, I’m Xander, I’m - uh - dating Harry? He invited me over.” 

“Are you telling me or asking?” Louis questions with a raised eyebrow, ignoring the extended hand, and Xander chuckles awkwardly. 

Louis, done with the conversation, turns around to walk into the flat, and Xander follows him, closing the door softly behind him. 

When they enter the living room, Harry dimples at the sight. Of Xander that is, not Louis.

“Sorry I couldn’t come to the door. I was in the loo, just came out,” he apologises suavely and Louis rolls his eyes as Xander reassures Harry it’s no problem. 

Louis scoots up next to Zayn, who, the amazing friend that he is, already has his arms opened up for a supportive cuddle, but unfortunately that leaves a small spot available where he was previously seated, which Xander occupies easily, yet again with another breathtaking smile at them all. 

Harry, finished with the game just at the nick of time apparently, immediately turns the love seat so he's facing the group more so than the TV, making the seating arrangements a triangle fit for social gatherings, surrounding the quaint coffee table. The love seat screeches against the floorboards as he moves.

“Careful with my fucking love seat,” Louis hisses, wincing at the sound. 

Harry ignores him. 

“Guys, this is Xander! Xander, these are my friends Liam, Niall and Zayn - and that’s Louis.”

Louis sends him a dirty look at the tone change of Louis' name being introduced, and the insinuation of it, while the rest of the guys smilingly offer their greetings. Belatedly, he says his hellos too, because he supposes if he’s a dick to Xander in front of people, Harry might get the idea he’s jealous. 

Which he’s not. 

He’d just prefer that the boys his ex-boyfriend dates from now on are significantly less attractive than Louis, is all. Especially the first one he's introduced to post-breakup. Especially when Louis doesn’t have anyone on the horizon whatsoever, and Harry’s last words to him before Louis walked out of his life were that he could do better than him anyway, while Louis would never find anyone who would take care of him and make him feel as good as Harry did. 

Well, fast-forward five months later and didn’t that turn out to be pitifully true? 

Louis gives Harry a nasty look from under Zayn’s arms, still miffed by the comment, even five months later, and Harry smirks again, no doubt knowing what he’s thinking and shoving the irony of life in his face.

Louis left him and Louis will die alone.

“You disgust me,” he says to the boy out of the blue and Xander looks a bit shocked as Harry fully dimples in glee.

Liam sighs.

“Don’t worry about Lou; he randomly spurts out words, thinking we know which conversations he’s having in his head,” Harry reassures Xander, and when Niall coughs to cover up his laugh, Louis raises his chin gracefully and then ungracefully smothers himself into Zayn’s armpit. 

Xander chuckles a little and Louis can see the goofy smile the sound emits on Harry’s face from under Zayn’s arm.

“So how long have you been dating?” Zayn asks politely and Louis squeezes his hip bone for his loyalty and commitment as a best friend, and for volunteering for the task of finding out everything there is to find out about ' Harry and Xander', quotation marks fully intended.

“Oh, only a couple of weeks,” Xander replies heartily, looking at them all and Louis narrows his gaze at what is, in his humble opinion, an extremely premature introduction. 

“It’s early days, but I wanted him to meet you guys,” Harry agrees, and then he and Xander give each other a cute, loved up smile that makes Louis pity them both. Because they’re so gross, and love is an illusion and everyone will die in the end anyway, so what’s the point.

“That’s really cute,” is what he ends up saying and he is rewarded with a small, friendly smile from Xander.

Louis takes the controller over from Liam, who managed to come third last out of all the racers and therefore had to relinquish the fourth controller as a punishment, and pays most of his attention to Mario Kart for the next few half-an-hour. He sighs satisfied when he, a few rounds after, has managed to knock Harry (who smugly had been winning the last few rounds) down to last place, having made it his mission to use every single one of his in-game opportunities to destroy the other man.

Harry is slightly pink from anger at being constantly singled out for attacks by the time he, with a loud snort of a laugh, throws the controller Niall’s way, who groans by the force as it hits his groin. Harry gives Xander a quick look, catching himself behaving like the sore loser he is, and plays it all off as coy embarrassment with a fake laugh.

“I guess I’m not taking you racing anytime soon,” he chuckles, looking at Xander from under his eyelashes.

Xander just laughs back, putting his controller down. “At least nowhere where there’s a chance of tortoise shells, banana peels and bombs in the road,” he winks.

Louis scratches his belly and takes a large gulp of beer. 

“If you’re trying to impress him, Haz, you should probably stay off anything where you have to be coordinated and quick-thinking.”

“You know you probably could have won, if you weren’t an actual insane person,” Zayn offers mildly, directed at Louis. 

“Later I’ll serenade you with my voice and guitar, to make up for the impression this has left of me,” Harry says to Xander, waving explanatory at the TV, a charming smile in place.

Before Xander can reply, Louis shakes his head. 

“Nope," he interjects, popping the p. "It’s not going to be one of those sad nights where you sing love songs so slow it makes us fall asleep or contemplate suicide. Not happening.”

Harry drags his eyes away from Xander to look at Louis affronted.

“He should be able to do some of his rock songs at least? Just to get past this devastating, embarrassing loss, so X here will see he has something of value to offer,” Niall placates. 

Harry now turns towards Niall and his affronted look darkens another smudge. 

Louis mulls it over, gnawing on his lips for show, pleased by the ribbing he’s initiated.

“Yes, I suppose a few upbeat rock songs are alright, just because the second-hand embarrassment of that loss itself is enough to make me cringe. But this is not turning into a sing-along,” he warns, giving both Niall and Harry a threatening look. He sees Niall’s guitar next to the sofa the boy is occupying, and it’s not happening. Not on his watch.

“You can do the backing vocals,” Harry comments silkily, attention back on Xander and Louis' eyes are darken this time.

“Zayn!” he shouts, making the other boy yelp and scramble in surprise by the sheer volume and pitch. “Smoke,” he barks. 

x

When he and Zayn come back in from the little balcony of Harry's flat, freezing their bollocks off, the music is turned up and the game of Mario Kart is abandoned. 

Harry is still in Louis’ love seat. 

“Liam, we’re carrying this thing out tonight! This ends here!” he shouts as soon as he enters the room.

“No, we’re not,” Liam replies deadpan, not even bothering to look at him or question what he’s talking about. After five months, Louis assumes Liam knows.

“Pray tell, Liam. What’s the point of getting you in the divorce if you’re just ‘gonna be a little shit?” 

That does get Liam’s attention. “You got me? In the divorce?” His eyes light up a little.

Louis huffs, splaying himself on the sofa, carelessly knocking into Xander’s thigh in the process. 

“Of course, who else would have gotten you?” Louis drawls.

Xander looks intrigued. Liam gapes.

“Did you get me too?” Niall asks curiously, and Louis gives him a once over.

“No. Didn’t want you.” 

Zayn snickers at Niall’s offended look and even Louis can’t help but bite his lips to avoid smiling pleased at the outrage. 

“Good riddance, you cunt. I’d rather you pay the alimony,” Niall rebuts, drowning his pout with a large chug of beer, before smiling good-naturedly again, appeased by the alcohol flushing down his system.

They’re quiet for a few moments before Zayn, having gone to grab himself another beer, pushes Louis over towards Xander so he can grab his previous seat by the end of the sofa they share. 

Louis zeroes in on the man he’s now uncomfortably close to, and he gives a friendly, if slightly intimidated smile back, from behind his glass of wine, which he is sipping. Of course, he’s a wine man. Aren’t he and Harry just perfect for each other...

“Do you like the love seat?” he asks the man pleasantly, to engage in conversation, and Zayn groans loudly.

Xander gives the seat a look, meeting Harry’s amused eyes in the process. 

“Yeah, it looks cosy. It’s a nice grey colour.” Louis nods encouragingly. “I like that’s it’s round too. And the pillows are cute,” Xander offers seemingly unsure of how much Louis wants him to go on, as Louis nods eagerly with every utterance.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it. Makes the room, it does!” Louis says proudly, smiling fondly at the piece of furniture, before he wipes the smile off his face and turns serious in the blink of an eye. “I bought it, you know.”

“Oh,” Xander says, giving another uncertain look Harry’s way. Harry just smiles blindingly back at him. 

“He really didn’t,” he assures the man, moving to the end of his seat, as close to Xander as the furniture would allow, and then putting some non-existent disarrayed hair behind Xander’s ear.

Louis scoffs and throws himself back on the hard, uncomfortable sofa, hurting his neck in the process.

“ Harry here is under the impression that if you pay for something it’s just automatically yours,” he scathes. 

“Eh-” Xander replies, and well. Louis can see how his sentence can be slightly misunderstood. 

Harry smirks mockingly. “It is normally how the world works,” he drawls condescendingly, winking conspiratorially to Xander who gives a soft laugh. 

“But I don’t pay for anything!” Louis exclaims in outrage and Liam gives him a look, shaking his head pitifully at the embarrassment Louis is putting himself through.

“Do you see now, Xander, why my love seat belongs to Louis?” Harry asks mock-seriously, looking into his eyes and shaking his head sadly. “You see; he didn’t pay for it, just like he doesn’t pay for anything.” 

Louis grits his teeth. 

“I’ll pay for it now!" He screeches loudly, and Liam winces. “How much?” he demands.

Harry grins evilly, still not looking at him. “Ten thousand.”

Louis opens his mouth in outrage. “You absolute dickhead,” he spits out. “How the fuck can I ever be able to afford that?”

Harry looks immensely proud of himself, smirking smugly.

“I guess you’re not getting it then, are you love?”

Louis grits his teeth at the absolute pettiness Harry is sporting; quite literally punishing him and holding his beloved love seat hostage, just because Louis had enough self-respect to cut them both loose and leave a dying relationship where neither was appreciated nor prioritized enough. 

He grumpily leans back on the couch.

“You probably planned to keep it all along, just happily waiting for the day it’d all blow up so you could steal it from right under me,” he mutters under his breath and only shrinks for a millisecond when Harry throws him one sharp, dangerous look. A clear warning in his eyes to tread very carefully with his next words. 

Louis huffs, but stays silent, proficiently scared by the withering warning. Louis is normally able to push Harry’s buttons perfectly, and even when he pushes too far to get a rise out of the boy, Harry rarely gets angry. When Harry once in a blue moon gets truly, dangerously angry though, he’s scary. 

So Louis, feeling properly chastened, opts instead of continuing to accuse Harry of wanting their relationship to fail, to pout sullenly and take refuge in Zayn’s arms once again.

After the interaction, he, however, gets a little bit meaner towards Harry and Xander both, taking particular pleasure in mocking Xander’s American accent, origin and fellow citizens.

When Xander lands his own soul-crushing mockery of the far superior North and Louis’ accent, Louis decides to take off the kid gloves. 

He’s about to make Xander cry in devastation when Harry jumps up and slaps his knees like he’s a middle-aged uncle finally having stayed his obligatory three hours at a child’s birthday party, and is now desperate to get out, while putting up a front that he has, in fact, very much enjoyed himself.

“Pizza should be here soon, he exclaims chipper.

“Thank God, I’m starving,” Niall groans. 

“Lou, a little help?” Harry requests politely and Louis looks at him, then at the rest of the group, then finally laughs mockingly. 

“Yeah, no,” he declines with a snort, letting his laugh fizzle out. 

Harry gives Xander a little kiss as he squeezes between the love seat and the sofa arm he’s crushed it against, before moving behind the sofa situated in the middle of the room.

Without preamble, Harry yanks at Louis with a grip under each armpit in one swift move and tugs him over the sofa back, making him squeal in surprise, then curse in anger. As soon as Louis’ too short legs have slid off the sofa back, he’s dropped in a heap of his own limbs on the floor. 

Liam giggles, Niall bellows a laugh loud enough to wake the baby on the floor above them, Zayn wheezes, and Xander tries - and fails - to hide a small snicker with a cough.

“Lou, a little help?” Harry repeats innocently, looking down at him, and Louis stands up as dignified as he can, giving the laughing boys a glare as murderous as possible before he leads the way towards the front door.

Harry follows, and as soon as the front door clicks shut behind them, Louis turns towards a far too amused Harry.

“What?” he barks at the taller man.

“You’re so grumpy, baby,” Harry teases, before moving past him and down the stairs, whistling a cheerful tune.

“You know, it’s funny how my little pet name suddenly disappears whenever Xander is near,” Louis snides. “That’s not obvious at all... You're so obviously just trying to get under my skin.”

Harry just shrugs his shoulders in front of him, skipping a step with a little heel click. 

“Maybe, subconsciously, you’re just my placeholder ‘baby’?” he suggests, and Louis bites his bottom lip in righteous anger, shocked by how much the comment cuts him.

“The next time you call me baby, I’ll punch you in the balls,” he promises sweetly and Harry honks a loud, genuine laugh.

They wait outside for the pizza to arrive and Louis lights a cigarette, ignoring Harry’s disapproving glance.

“So, why am I here?” he finally asks, sighing in pleasure as the nicotine hits his lungs.

“Because you can’t take a hint, and keep showing up uninvited?”

“Hah hah!” Louis fake-laughs loudly and mockingly. “Fucking funny.” He takes another puff. “I meant out here with you.”

Harry smiles at the reaction before he bites his lip and then gives Louis a pretty frown. “You’re being impolite to Xander, baby. It’s rude and I don’t like it.”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“It’s called bantering, love,” he stage-whispers, widening his mouth and eyes dramatically. 

“You’re being mean. You’re mocking him non-stop, and you might be making him uncomfortable. He doesn’t know us that well,” Harry chastises. 

Louis rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, feeling mulish.

“Well, thank God he has you as his knight in shining armour.” He’s quiet for a few moments. “And I’m not being mean, everyone takes the piss out of the US,” he defends petulantly.

“Just be nice, baby. Please?” Harry requests, a serious look in his eyes and Louis narrows his eyes, stumping his cigarette in the ashtray mounted to the wall of the building.

“So, just so I’m getting this right: you’re asking me to do you a favour while calling me baby, after insulting me by saying I’m just a placeholder for the guy you’re asking me to be nice to? Once again, this all as a favour to you?”

“That’s right, baby,” Harry nods, a wicked glint in his eyes, knowing he’s getting under Louis’ skin.

“Fuck you. Enjoy getting your pizzas up on your own,” Louis says cheerfully and walks inside, leaving Harry just as the pizza delivery bike comes to a stop on the pavement.

Louis grumbles only slightly as he walks up the stairs, despising the insufferable, smug cockiness that is embodied in one Harry fucking Styles. 

Honestly, he feels bad for Xander; he has no idea what he’s getting into. Maybe Louis should follow Harry’s advice; be nice and let him know exactly what hell on earth he’s getting into dating. 

When he enters the flat his beloved love seat is thankfully still unoccupied and he lets out a pleased sigh as he burrows himself in the comfiness of the material. He’s missed it so fucking much.

“That’s it, baby. Mommy’s home,” he murmurs, stroking the arm seat fondly, and Niall rolls his eyes. 

“Why aren’t you the daddy?” Liam asks puzzled and Harry lets out a loud snort behind him, having just entered, making Louis send him a rude glare. 

He doesn’t dignify either with a response, only burrows himself down further and asks Xander to hand over his beer, left on the coffee table too far out of reach. 

He is not leaving his love seat for the rest of the night, not taking any chances. 

They settle into easy talking and light-hearted bantering once Harry serves the pizzas, Louis heeding Harry's request begrudgingly despite his refusal earlier, and it’s quite nice, except for Harry’s increasing, nervous looks Louis’ way.

“Do you need a plate? Don’t spill tomato sauce on my very expensive love seat,” Harry orders and Louis rolls his eyes.

“I won’t.”

“You’ll do it just to be a little shit, I know you,” Harry counters, eyeing his pizza slice and its abundance of pizza sauce with a scrutinising gaze.

“Well, of course. But I obviously won’t do it on my own , very expensive love seat,” Louis counters brattily. 

He then drops some filling on his lap, looks up at Harry guiltily and Harry practically jumps up to get a plate from the kitchen, which Louis accepts without a word, a faint warmth spreading on his cheekbones. 

“Good baby,” Zayn drawls and did Louis honestly think he was a decent best friend earlier? 

Huh, he used to be so naïve. 

x

Louis is relatively quiet as they eat, settling down somewhat and allowing himself not to be the centre of attention for once; instead being quite content with grabbing himself slice after slice whilst snuggling and relaxing in his love seat, letting the stressful week wash away. The seat always managed to calm down his racing thoughts, probably a Pavlovian response, he admits to himself grudgingly.

Being a semi-struggling songwriter by day and a bartender at night isn’t all as cracked up as it sounds, and he can admit, to himself, that the comfort the love seat provides is welcome.

It’s also been a while since he’d allowed himself take-away on the tight budget he’s been on ever since leaving Harry and their beautiful, spacious, warm flat, and he tries now to not let the irony of it being Harry feeding him, in the flat that used to be his home, ruin what would otherwise be a perfectly content moment. 

He feels at home and safe here is the problem.

When the conversation, however, turns towards how Niall has been two-timed by this girl who ended up getting back with her ex, stringing them both along and effectively cheating on them both for three weeks, Louis mentally engages in the conversation again.

“Shawn’s fucking decent for letting me know as soon as he found out though. We ended up chatting for ages about a shit ton of things and we’ve got loads in common! We’re actually meeting up for a pint tomorrow,” Niall says and Louis blinks, never able to get to grips with how Niall can befriend literally everyone - even a boy whose girlfriend was cheating on them with him - and vice versa.

“Cheating is absolutely disgusting. Complete deal-breaker,” Xander says, shaking his head ruefully and Louis snorts.

“Good luck with Hazza here, then.”

Xander widens his eyes comically and suddenly all eyes are on Louis. Did he say that out loud?

“What the fuck are you on about?” Harry almost growls.

“What?” Louis defends himself, waving around at the rest of the group. “I’m just warning the lad, I don’t want his heart to be broken. We both know that’s a speciality of yours,” he snides.

“No, really,” Harry repeats darkly. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Louis leans forward in his seat, locking eyes with Harry, brazing his whole body for the oncoming outrage, and looking immensely forward to it. 

“12th May 2013,” he recites dolefully and it looks like a vein is about to pop on Harry’s forehead. 

Zayn grabs some chips and looks vaguely amused. Xander is looking worriedly at Harry.

“If you mention that date to me one more time, I will seriously throttle you,” Harry grits out.

“Also known as the day you cheated, ” Louis exclaims dramatically, and, for good measure, points his finger at Harry accusingly. It hits his nose with the proximity of their seating arrangements and Louis bops it before quickly retreating, to avoid losing it completely.

“I did not fucking cheat on you! How many times! It was a dare. It was a drinking game. It was absolutely innocent. She’s a lesbian for fuck’s sake! ”

Louis snorts, unimpressed.

Harry promptly ignores him and turns towards Xander. “Honestly, I would never cheat on a partner. I am, like, the most monogamous and committed person in the world when I'm in a relationship,” he reassures him, grabbing his hand.

“I believe you,” Xander says appeased and a little coyly, stroking his thumb softly over Harry’s long thumb joint, their hands interlocked. 

“It’s also funny how you accuse H of cheating every other month or so, when, in fact, you’re actually the only cheater in the room,” Niall offers calmly, hand burrowed in the crisps bag on the table. He looks slightly caught out when he sits back on the sofa and everyone's attention suddenly is laser-focused on him.

Xander gives Louis an ill-disguised judgemental look. So much for building bridges.

“Shut up, Niall,” Louis grumbles.

“11th October 2015,” Harry proclaims sagely, and Louis groans, a blush rising high on his cheeks. “At least I didn’t cheat on my boyfriend with my boyfriend’s own friend, ” Harry continues savagely, looking at Xander with a wounded puppy-eyed look. 

“That’s horrible,” Xander says, slightly disgusted and filled with sympathy, grabbing his hand supportingly.

Liam burrows himself into the second two-seater sofa next to Niall, pointedly looking at a photo of Harry and Gemma on the wall, and Louis looks down at his nails in sudden interest, feeling the tenseness of the atmosphere and wishing Niall would combust into flames.

Then Zayn starts laughing. Loudly.

“Still cannot believe I missed it.”

“‘Wanna watch it again?” Niall asks eagerly and Louis groans as Niall fishes his phone out and gets the damning evidence. 

“I could probably have you arrested for this, you know,” Louis complains for the umpteenth time, as Zayn leans over the two sofa arms separating himself and Niall. “You have video recordings of me stored on your phone without my consent,” he continues pointedly, to a pair of deaf ears. 

“I’ve actually made a new crack video of it I’ve forgotten to show you all,” Niall explains, already laughing at what they’re about to see and then Celine Dion’s Your Heart Will Go On starts playing on the device. 

There’s a red blush on Liam’s cheeks now as well.

Niall and Zayn start doubling over in laughter as the audio is replaced by various ‘and that’s how they knew they fucked up’ meme variations and Xander looks from Harry to Louis bewildered. 

“I’m so confused,” he admits.

“It’ll become clear,” Harry assures him, sending both Liam and Louis a rude look.

“It was an accident, Haz!” Liam exclaims desperately, and when Harry hmphs in disapproval, he dejectedly falls back on the sofa, giving Niall’s phone a sneak peek and then blushing even more.

“You ‘wanna watch?” Niall asks Xander, tears in his eyes, and Xander nods eagerly.

Louis leans over the arm of his love seat, resting his hand on Harry’s thigh for support as a video, disgustingly titled The Lilo Kiss in pink, cursive font, with the thumbnail of Louis and Liam smiling fondly at each other, edited into a pink, kiss-cam heart, sits ready on the screen. 

Xander presses play and for the next four minutes, Louis sees a loop of the moment that will be the bane of his existence; namely, Liam and Louis accidentally pecking on a stage mid-whisper and then looking horrified at each other, edited in between an impressive amount of funny memes and pictures of the two.

Xander is keeling over in laughter. Niall is too, even though he literally just saw the video a few minutes earlier and it can't possibly be that funny.

When the video is finished there’s a sombre silence, except for some laughter residue from Niall. 

“And there you have it,” Harry sighs. “The beginning of the end, if I have to pin-point it.”

Liam looks horrified and Louis flicks Harry’s head, unamused by the pain he’s putting Liam through. 

“But that’s not even the best bit,” Niall wheezes and Louis throws himself in the love seat, hiding his face in his hands.

“Fuck’s sake, have I done something to you Niall?” he shouts, a little desperate.

“You see,” Niall explains to Xander, still laughing. “We were all on a long-weekend trip to Birmingham for one of Harry’s shows, and this happened late at night during karaoke. However, it’s the next day the cheating really took place.”

“Stop using that word, “Liam begs.

“What’d they do?” Xander asks curiously.

“Couldn't keep their hands off each other,” Harry grumbles.

Zayn snickers. “They flirted heavily all day. They purposefully sat next to each other, sexual innuendos were flying all over the place, eye fucking... We were scared they were ‘gonna give H a heart attack.”

“Bullshit,” Louis, now fidgeting incessantly, rejects weakly.

“It’s like they both just suddenly had a sexual awakening and realised they both were fuckable in each other’s eyes,” Niall bellows. 

“That’s not what happened,” Liam insists.

“You didn’t flirt?” Harry asks drily and a little aggressively.

“Well - “ Liam scrambles.

“You didn’t have sexual tension for the rest of the weekend?” Zayn asks sarcastically.

“It was confusing, alright!” Liam whines and both Zayn and Niall keel over laughing again.

“At least I wasn’t in a relationship!” Liam screams, eager to get the attention off of him and Louis looks at him with betrayal.

“You kissed me, you bellend! What, I’m not allowed to have eyes or thoughts just because I’m in a relationship” he demands, throwing one of his pillows at Liam’s face and, after the immediate pleasure of hitting bulls-eye, immediately regretting it because he's now one pillow short. 

“And that is the sad woe of the man who hurt me and made me who I am today,” Harry soliloquies sadly and Xander snickers, leaning towards him.

“Dramatic life you’ve had,” he teases lightly and Harry nods empathetically before he smiles cheekily and grabs the side of Xander’s head with his large hand, dragging him in for a soft kiss. 

Louis looks away.  

x

They start a drinking game after that, and it doesn't take long for Louis to be pleasantly buzzed. He's verging on drunk when Xander pops into the bathroom. 

As soon as the door clinks shut, Harry gets up and easily manhandles Louis into his arms, bridal style.

“Nooo,” Louis wails as Harry unceremoniously dumps him onto the hard sofa next to Zayn.

“Sorry, baby. You know the rules; the love seat comes as a package deal,” he says unrepentantly. 

“But I don’t want the package it comes with,” Louis says petulantly, and Harry just gives him an unbothered smile.

“Exactly, so no love seat for you.”

“But it’s mine,” he says pitifully, and he would fight Harry for it, has in the past, but Harry is stronger than him and will easily win, even though Louis fights dirtily and will get in a good few whacks, no doubt about it. 

However, the result will still be Harry on top and it would just be embarrassing in front of big, strong Xander (who can probably lift Harry up against the wall and fuck him with his compact, strong body,) so Louis begrudgingly stays put, allowing a few moments to feel sorry for himself. 

When Xander comes out and sees the change in positions he raises his eyes questioningly, but Harry, now a little tipsier and more forthcoming, just waggles his eyebrows and motions for Xander to join him.

“Saved you a seat,” he quips, licking his lips and Xander smirks seductively, and places himself next to Harry on his loveseat. 

Louis tries to not let the action ruin his night. He’s having fun. He’s with his best friends, sans one very annoying ex-boyfriend, and surely life can’t get sweeter.

He lays down on his too-short sofa horizontally, head in Zayn’s lap, and lets his hair be petted, trying not to focus on the fact that he now has a direct line of vision to Harry and Xander cosying up, sitting in each other’s arms, whispering in each other’s ear and making out. He tries to crane his head backwards to view Niall and Liam, but it's uncomfortable and he gives himself five minutes before he probably begrudgingly has to seat himself upright and miss Zayn’s amazing fingers petting him.

There’s a comfortable lull in the game when Xander explains a little about his job and asks the rest of them what they’re doing for a living. 

Everyone replies and when all eyes inevitably turn to Louis he discloses he’s a songwriter.  

“Oh, cool! You written anything I might've heard?” Xander asks curiously and Louis smiles a little forced.

Harry smirks at him from his spot beside Xander, knowing that is one question that really gets on Louis’ nerves. It’s just so - rude. Like he isn’t a real songwriter unless he has a famous singer in his portfolio.

“Maybe,” he answers non-committing, feeling a little exposed. Which is ridiculous, he shouldn’t give a rat’s arse about what Xander Ritz thinks. He’s no one of importance. 

“Come on then, try me,” Xander continues and Harry smirks wider. Louis can see why Harry might like him, he’s fucking relentless. Demands whatever he wants as if he’s entitled to it, just like Harry himself. 

“Eh, I’ve written Back To You by Bebe Rexha. Secret Love Song Pt. II by Little Mix… Kiwi by Harry Styles,” he admits slightly lower, not liking having to openly admit Harry could be a household name worth mentioning and having furthered Louis' career. “Camila Cabello sampled Back To You for a song,” he offers and Xander looks rightfully impressed. 

“I love Kiwi ,” he says, looking at Harry with adoration. “Love all your songs,” he confesses a little quieter, a secret smile on his lips. 

“Well, you’ve got to say that when you’re dating,” Louis interjects, rolling his eyes.

Harry narrows his eyes at him a little.

“No,” Xander giggles faintly, “I listened to all of your albums on repeat as soon as we met. You could be a superstar.”

Harry preens at the compliment and Louis rolls his eyes.

“So you’re all doing music industry stuff, then?” Xander asks. “Is that how you met?”

Louis openly snorts now. “You could say that,” he mumbles.

Harry smiles slightly, his left dimple showing. “We all auditioned for X-Factor UK as solo artists when we were teenagers. We were rejected, then put in a group,” he answers and something inside Louis pangs remembering those days, how happy they’d all been. How hard he’d fallen in love with the man next to him, now cuddling up to someone else, telling him their story, but leaving out them.

“We got all the way to the Judges’ Houses,” Niall supplies proudly. “Got cut off just before the live shows.”

“Wow, so you were on TV and everything?

Liam nods. “Quite a lot for someone who didn’t get through to the live tapings,” he replies, still sounding suspicious and slightly bitter of the fact, even over ten years later, suspecting conspiracies, gimmicks and foul play. Liam was, and still is, firmly under the impression that they were guinea pigs for Simon Cowell; a carefully curated, failed business risk that paved the way for the world’s biggest boyband Union J, which similarly was put together the next season.

Niall pats his legs comfortingly. X-Factor was Liam’s dream, and he worked so hard for it, more than any of the others.

“I need to google this,” Xander laughs and Louis shakes his head. 

“Please don’t.”

He still has flashbacks to his own performances, looks and hair. He’d rather not have Harry and Xander looking at it, huddled close together and laughing at him. 

“So what happened after?” Xander asks, looking at Harry. “Why aren’t you a band, then?”

“We all went back to college and uni. But then as the years went by, we found ourselves in London one by one and re-connected,” he shrugs, missing out on big chunks of the story, like how Louis went to study music and drama in Manchester, and Harry visited him every single weekend. How they fell in love and Louis followed Harry to London when he decided he didn’t want to go to uni, but chase his dream of being a singer instead. How they loved each other for 11 years.

“We could never have been a proper band, we’d have killed each other before the five-year mark,” Louis snorts, letting all his anger, hatred and bitterness for Harry bleed into his voice.

“And we have way too different music tastes, it’d never have been authentic,” Zayn offers. Harry gives him an annoyed look at that because that’s always been a source of disagreement between the two. 

“Plus, you know,” Liam laughs. “Back then, only Niall and Louis knew how to play an instrument, so unless we wanted to be a heavily curated underground boy band.” He gives a little grimace.

Xander smiles at them. “It seems to have all worked out in the end, though” he offers and Niall nods affirmatively.

“We’re all doing what we love. Mostly.”

“Which reminds me, I need you to record a demo for me next week,” Louis grumbles to Harry, barely lifting his eyes, hating that his career and livelihood depend on the other man. He wants nothing from Harry, nothing but an apology for wasting all his good years on him, preferably in the form of his love seat.

Harry doesn’t respond, but Louis takes that as a confirmation he will do it. Neither enjoys spending more time with each other than necessary, but this is Louis’ career on the line, and he won’t let Harry ruin that for him. He will literally hold a knife to his beloved, ridiculous phallic art if he tries to refuse.

There’s a barely perceivable tenseness in the air.

“It’s nice you’re still friends, you know, cheating and all,” Xander offers, a little teasing lilt in his voice to make it lighthearted. 

Louis snorts. “It’s not like we have much choice,” he says petulantly.

At Xander’s bewildered gaze, Harry pets his hair. “We promised the guys we wouldn’t let the break up affect our friends’ group,” he explains. 

“And it’s hardly being friends. He’s doing me a job.”

“For free,” Niall chimes in and Louis sends him a glare.

“But why him if you’re all singers, and you’re not really friends anymore?” And there’s nothing malicious in Xander’s question, just a gentle, earnest curiosity about the work that Louis does.

“Because his voice and style fit the song best, and I’ll have a higher chance of it reaching its target audience and make me money than if I used my own voice,” Louis admits, begrudgingly, mouth pursed.

“In other words; Lou wrote a song specifically with me in mind but is too proud to admit it,” Harry faux-whispers and Louis’ knuckles whiten. 

Xander then gives him a pitying look and Louis wonders how petty he will look if he explains that he, in fact, broke up with Harry, so there’s no need for it. He is not heartbroken. 

He doesn’t get to be heartbroken.

“Superstar Harry Styles. Is there anything you can’t do? You’re even touring the world,” Xander teases good-naturedly, attention back on Harry.

“Well,” Harry amends. “I wouldn’t go that far. Star is possibly a stretch, but yeah I’m touring the UK... Europe... The US… And I do get my fair share of flashings and groupies” he laments cockily, voice quietening down and turning more seductive for every word, his mouth only centimetres away from Xander’s lips by the end of it.

“Yeah, he’s a regular Mick Jagger,” Louis snides, rolling his eyes. “If we’re all quite done metaphorically jumping on Harry Styles’ dick,” he continues and is pleased when there’s a blush grazing Xander’s cheeks. Harry just looks smugly pleased, always getting off on having his super inflated ego stroked.

They go back to playing a few more rounds of Ring of Fire and Louis has gone from pleasantly buzzed to drunk. His heavily controlled carefree, good mood from before has however vanished and he’s not quite sure why. 

He now feels jittery and tense all over. He wants to pick a fight and get everything out of his near bursting seams, but he can’t, because they’re meant to have a good time and it’s not fair on his friends that he causes a strop because - because of nothing.

He quiets down from his previous boasting, energetic loudness, worried he’ll snap and turn mean if he says more than needed, but no one seems to notice or care about his behavioural extremes. And perhaps that hurts more than anything. No one sees him, no one understands that he’s suddenly struggling, desperately needing to quiet down all of his running, unorganised thoughts.

Maybe it’s just been too much; with Xander here, and his and Harry’s intimate shows of affection in Louis’ love seat, with talks about how Louis and Harry met, thoughts of how they fell in love, and how Louis’ career is still so fucking intertwined and dependant on Harry. He can’t even fucking write a song without the curly-haired, green-eyed boy somehow becoming the subject of it.

“Let’s have a fag.” Zayn nudges Louis as he feels he’s about to spiral and he looks up a little guiltily, not having paid any attention for a while.

“Yeah," he agrees, getting up. And he’s fumbling with the lighter in his pocket as he walks, his inner turmoil seeping out. He can feel Harry’s eyes on him, and sees him exchanging a look with Zayn too, but he doesn’t pay him any attention, rather putting all his effort into ensuring he seems normal and put together. He doesn’t need any pity. He doesn’t need anyone else making him feel better anymore. He can’t afford that. 

Zayn looks out at the street view as they slowly inhale their cigarettes, clearly completely comfortable with giving Louis some privacy to collect his thoughts and calm down. Maybe he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he thought he was. Maybe Zayn was a more observant friend than he gave him credit for.

“You know I begged him to buy that love seat”, Louis says quietly after too long, his cigarette almost burnt to a butt. 

He looks through the glass door and to Harry and Xander’s backs, comfortably reclining on the soft furniture.

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, showing interest but not pushing him, smoke floating through the air in front of him as he inhales and exhales.

Louis moves on his feet a little, cold seeping through his clothes. “He said the grey colour didn’t match with the sofa, that it was too expensive, that it was an impractical furniture.” He laughs ruefully, an ugly sound coming up through his throat. “I literally begged him, said I’d pay it all back with every paycheck I received. I promised him I’d use it every day and show exactly how useful it could be by fucking him on it every night. I told him I’d love it forever, love us on it forever.”

He looks up at Zayn and there are tears in his eyes now. Zayn looks at him with empathy, but he doesn’t go in for a hug. Maybe he senses that would break Louis.

“I told him I’d suck his dick while he relaxed on it every night for two weeks straight as a thank you if he bought it. He just laughed and called me a menace. Then he bought it anyway and said it was a gift because it made me happy.”

Louis sounds bitter even to his own ears. “He never wanted it. He bought it for me as a gift because it made me happy and he’s keeping it from me just to be cruel, just to throw everything I’ve left behind, everything I’ve lost back in my face. Is it not fucking bad enough that I’ve lost my home, financial security, my best fucking friend, the love of my life and the person I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with? He has to ensure I’m left with fucking nothing?”

He breathes heavily and lights another cigarette, desperate for the nicotine hit to ease his nerves which are haywire in his body, lighting up his brain with intrusiveness.

“He’s punishing me,” he finishes more docile, looking back to the other man.

“It fucking sucks,” Zayn offers quietly, looking at Louis with an emotive and sympathetic look.

Louis sighs. Yeah, it fucking does.

x

He feels out of it for the rest of the evening and should probably go home, but the thought of going back home to his sad, small flat makes his skin even itchier. He doesn't want company, but he needs it. 

Not long after Louis and Zayn’s last smoke, Xander says he needs to go as he has an important meeting the next morning and Harry pouts sadly as they make out in between their verbal goodbyes, promising he will call him in the afternoon to hear how it went. 

Xander tells them all it was nice meeting them and offers his goodbye. Louis fakes a smile, promising himself he will show a much better side of himself the next time Xander comes around, preferably with Harry preparing him beforehand. 

Harry looks smitten and happy when he comes back from letting him out, and doesn’t look surprised that his spot on the love seat has been taken by Louis.

“He’s cool, right?” he asks, even as he grabs a hold of Louis, thick and strong arms under Louis' knee joints and around his back, and puts him back on the sofa, a small whine emitting from Louis. 

“You have no right touching me,” he accuses prickly and Harry has the audacity to lift his eyebrow mockingly, before deciding to ignore the comment, opting instead to listen to the other boys’ replies about how much they liked Xander.

Louis bristles. He has been trying to keep it in all fucking night, tried to be the bigger person, tried to be considerate to their friends, tried to fucking not snap and have a fucking embarrassing strop, but Harry just keeps pushing, thinking he can push him around, carry him and manhandle him as he pleases.

He’s about to scream at him and finally hurl all of the abuse he’s kept bottled up the last few hours, but then Harry sends him a knowing look like he can see right through him and it’s so intense Louis can’t help but shy away, swallowing slightly. 

When the rest of the guys call it a night, Louis decides to run to the bathroom rather than exit with them. He doesn’t know why, he always tries to spend as little time as possible alone with Harry, especially when they’re drinking and he trusts himself less than usual.

But tonight he’s too drunk. Maybe three beers ago he would have been sensible and disappeared quietly, making sure to avoid a situation that can’t possibly end well. 

Now, he waits until the front door closes with a thud before he opens the bathroom door and exits it.

He finds Harry in the living room, tidying up bottles and glasses, and Louis thinks he’s ready for this fight now. It’s long overdue.

Harry sends him a glance as he comes into view, but continues with his tidying, slowly walking past him and towards the kitchen. 

Louis follows.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you, baby,” Harry offers after he’s put the glasses in the dishwasher, turning towards Louis.

And that - is not what Louis had expected. He’d expected quite the opposite; Harry telling him how childish, irresponsible and rude he’d been all night. He’d expected Harry to say something that would justify him blowing up in epic proportions in return.

He doesn’t reply, too taken aback, but his confusion must be evident on his face.

“You’ve had a difficult few hours,” Harry continues, a sympathetic look on his face and Louis swallows. 

Harry doesn’t know. Louis hid it, he knows he did. Harry is just talking about the evening in general, that’s all

“You almost lost your temper after Xander left and had a tantrum, but you managed to stay good. I didn’t even have to chide you,” Harry compliments him and Louis narrows his eyes.

So maybe Harry knows. “You’re not my boyfriend anymore,” he replies clipped. 

Harry is slipping into the role quite comfortably and that’s not a role he has a right to occupy any more. Whatever Harry thinks Louis needs, it’s not happening.

“I dumped you, remember,” he adds cruelly, trying to get them back on track. The fighting as equals track. 

Harry merely smirks. “And you’re regretting it a little more for every passing day,” he comments knowingly. 

Harry doesn’t give Louis any time to rebut that preposterous claim before he continues; “Believe me, I understand tonight was difficult for you. I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if it was the other way around.” Harry frowns sadly and sympathetically.

Louis, however, laughs derisively, immediately seeing through the bullshit. 

“You made it ten times harder than it had to be. Provoking me, calling me your stupid fucking pet name, manhandling me, bossing me around and treating me like some lapdog!” he accuses in an angry, tight voice.

Harry just looks at him, brows furrowed a little, and an unreadable expression on his face.

“I helped you keep yourself grounded and in control. I anchored you all night as best as I could with the limited tools I had available,” he states finally and a peal of frantic laughter bubbles up Louis' throat.

“You didn’t - No,” he refuses, but suddenly feeling very unsure, and fucking pathetic. 

He wants to hide and cry with humiliation, another wave of tension and jitters wanting to explode out of him. Had Harry’s pet names, ordering about and manhandling helped him keep his wits? Helped him not lash out verbally, emotionally and physically? Had Harry’s self-perceived sternness helped Louis feels just a semblance of familiar normalcy, allowed him to feel seen and taken care of enough to help him over the worst brunt of the night without feeling he was going out of his mind?

“And you did so well, baby,” Harry says now, coming a little closer very slowly with careful movements, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook Louis.

“But you need more help, don’t you, baby?” he asks softly and Louis looks at him with almost frightened eyes.

Harry softly touches his arm and it feels so warm and firm. Louis can already feel his reservations crumble.

“Because even though you did so well and listened to me when I asked you to, you still behaved disrespectfully, didn’t you, baby? You have for so many months now; pushing all of my buttons so expertly, just begging for me to notice and put you in your place like you need.”

Louis is breathing harshly, looking into Harry’s green, calm and reassuring eyes. He closes his own eyes to avoid being sucked in.

He seriously considers colouring out so Harry will back off and stop his talking, and he can tell Harry is waiting, giving him time to utter it. 

They’re both just so drunk and they’re going to regret it in the morning, and Louis doesn’t need Harry anymore. He can’t.

He can handle this on his own. He has to because Harry isn’t there anymore. Louis made sure of that.

The word doesn’t come out. Instead, he just shakes his head, almost frantically.

“I don’t need you,” he says with an almost unwavering voice, desperately trying to convince himself as much as Harry.

Harry smiles, self-assured. “You’ll always need me, baby.”

He says it so confidently, so sure of himself that it sends a burst of electricity through Louis’ muscles and nerves. A little whimper falls out of his mouth without his permission, and with Harry so sure, Louis can’t doubt him. 

“You need me to show you I still don’t accept that kind of behaviour from you. And you need me to help anchor you so you can channel out some of those unhelpful and negative thoughts because they’re not doing you any good eating away at you like this.” 

Harry is hugging Louis now, petting at his hair comfortingly, and he hasn’t had a hug from the other boy in so, so long. He burrows his face into the just of Harry's collar bone, inhaling his scent. He suddenly feels so small. He hasn't allowed himself to feel small in front of Harry for so long.

“I think you have months worth of build-up of counter-productive thoughts because this has been a hard time for you. And I am really sorry I haven’t been able to give you the attention you deserve, too wrapped up in myself to notice that you needed me.”

“I - I don’t,” Louis says weakly into Harry’s neck. “And you shouldn’t have to - I hurt you , Harry. This isn’t your responsibility-

“Taking care of you is my job and disciplining you is my responsibility,” Harry interrupts him, “and right now you’re in need of both.

Louis blushes profusely.

“Go get ready,” Harry orders and Louis just - does. 

He gives one last, uncertain look Harry’s way, all of his muscles taut with tension, and Harry gives a reassuring smile, which makes him turn around and walk towards the living room. 

He looks in the direction of the front door, and Harry, having immediately followed, sees him do it. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, doesn’t chide him or remind him to do as he’s told; he just observes Louis observing the front door. 

But he can’t run away. Harry told him he needs to be disciplined and Louis needs to trust Harry. He needs to trust that Harry is doing what Louis needs, even when it’s not what he wants. 

He blushes as the disobeying thoughts fly through his head and looks at Harry guiltily, now wanting a chastisement for them, desperately just wanting everything to be like before Louis decided to fuck everything up.

Harry only raises an eyebrow in return, reading him like an open book and refusing to comply as a punishment in its own right, and Louis quickly unbuckles his jeans, letting them fall into a pool by his knees and stepping out of them. 

He moves towards the love seat, gingerly and with a sense of being see-through, bending down over the arm, hips rolling over it so his arse is in the air and his head is softly touching the material. He grabs the remaining decorative pillow to support his head as he’s laying down.

It’s quiet for a little while.

“You’re starting to test my patience, baby,” Harry’s voice comes from behind him; baritone and disapproving. 

Louis’ body hair stands on end as he understands, and he suppresses a shiver as he blushes.

Feeling warm all over he, very slowly, hooks his thumb under the waistband of his briefs. He breathes in and out a couple of times, before he finally, agonisingly slowly, drags them down behind him, feeling them fall to the floor beneath him.

He tenses as the cold air on his bum is replaced by the warm, flat palm of Harry’s big hand. 

Harry hasn’t seen or touched Louis’ arse in almost half a year. He can’t believe this - pathetically being laid bare to take a punishment like a misbehaving child - is how it happens the first time. 

He can already feel how his entire body, including his arse muscles, is rigid with furled tension.

“Do you know why you’re being spanked tonight?” Harry asks him quietly and Louis body-shivers, the expectation of what is about to happen finally catching up with him.

“I’ve been really disrespectful to you for months,” he whispers, suddenly ashamed. “And I was impolite to Xander tonight. And I need it.”

“You were, baby, and you do,” Harry agrees, and then the palm disappears from Louis' bum only to reconnect a moment later with a resounding slap, stinging beautifully over Louis’ backside. 

He moans in pleasure, feeling some of his tension leave his body as the pleasurable throb grounds him more than anything has done all night - more than Zayn's hair petting, more than the cigarettes, more than Harry’s behaviour.

The next few minutes are just quiet solitude; Louis’ mind finally slowing down for the first time since he told Harry he wanted a break. His mind now only focused on Harry’s hand hitting his backside, of Harry’s even breathing behind him, on the sounds of skin slapping against skin, on the throbbing on his arse, increasing in the smallest of increments. 

He’s euphoric at this point and can’t help but moan as his dick hardens, rutting slightly against the fabric while his arse ruts into Harry’s hand.

Harry seems amused by it, which should have Louis flaming by embarrassment, but he’s in too much pleasure at the moment to care.

“This is what you needed, isn’t it baby,” Harry comforts. “Just needed to get a break from all of your thoughts?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Louis moans in a slip-up, reaching that fuzzy, cotton-filled headspace where the only thing that exists is his arse and Harry’s hand, forever.

Soon, the same action that got him in his fuzzed-out headspace is slowly getting him out of it, however, as the soft, delicious throbs are turning into smarts, pain intermixing with pleasure, dragging him back to reality. 

Harry’s smacks have turned harsher, hitting not only on the round, soft flesh of Louis’ globes, but now also on the sensitive skin where Louis’ bum and thighs meet, and even down the back of his thighs.

“You’re getting all pink and pretty for me, baby,” Harry offers and Louis is pleased, wanting nothing more than to turn the colour Harry deems perfect. 

Soon the pain starts dominating the pleasure and Louis’ moans turn into small whimpers, his bum sore by Harry’s ruthlessness. Even now, though, Louis can relish in the pain and find pleasure in the burning. It feels like all his wrongs are being forgiven; for every harsh smart it feels like Louis is doing penance - and even better; like Harry is the one he’s doing penance for, forgiving him for everything with each smack.

He feels momentarily forgiven for all the hurt he’s put Harry through over the last months; and all of his guilt, shame, worries and concerns are oozing out of him, reduced to just mere background noise. 

The only thing that matters is being good in this moment; behaving, taking his punishment, feeling Harry’s flat-palmed hand on him again and again and again, until there's nothing more.

“Daddy,” he whines through clenched teeth, wanting to keep the word in, but at the same time feeling too vulnerable and wanting verbal reassurance that he indeed is good enough, that’s he’s doing the right thing.

Harry’s hands stop, and he gives a comforting rub over Louis’ tender backside, which feels good and allaying against the overheated skin.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here and you’re doing so well. Such an impressive boy taking all I’m giving you,” Harry praises and Louis nods, relieved.

“We’re not done though, baby. You can continue to be good, can’t you?” Harry asks, squeezing the flesh of his globes and Louis nods tiredly.

“I’m always good,” he replies, the barest hint of sass lacing his tone, and Harry chuckles, before giving his left shoulder blade a soft kiss.

“That you are.”

The touch of Harry’s lips sends a fire of warmth through Louis’ heart moving down his belly, and even as Harry continues his smacks, he can only focus on the phantom touch and spot, taking strength from the physical affection in a way that has him feeling invincible. 

Soon the warmth left behind by Harry’s dry lips fades, however, and only the pain of his backside is left.

“I think I’m done!” he shouts a little panicky after a particularly harsh blow to the back of his thigh.

There’s no reply.

When he tries to move up, another large hand comes to rest on his lower back.

“You’re not done, baby.” Harry’s voice is kind, but firm, holding him down as he continues to lay another blow onto Louis’ glutes.

Louis grumbles and whines in disapproval, about to talk back and demand being let up, when he is rewarded with a harsher slap, making him whine high in his throat. 

He begrudgingly lays down again and that’s when it fully hits him that Harry never told him the number of spanks he was to receive. A surge of thrill and terror goes through his body and he whimpers slightly as the hand again cracks down on his inflamed bum.

It doesn’t take long until there’s real, unflinching pain all down his backside, any pleasure long since forgotten.

Louis doesn’t know when it happens, but soon tears are watering in his eyes and falling down his cheeks and Louis hasn’t cried in six months; he’s not going to cry now.

But his arse feels on fire; it’s burning, and welting and feels so sore to the touch.

“Daddy, please stop,” he begs as prettily as he can, hoping the tactical use of the name and his tone of voice will appease Harry, but it doesn’t - rather it has the opposite effect.

There’s a resounding smack against the meat of Louis’ arse and he howls in pain. When another one follows on exactly the same spot, just as hard, he starts to whimper, crying softly as if the dam has finally broken.

A few more smacks and the soft whimpering has been transformed into loud wailing.

“Daddy, please,” he begs in between wretched sobs, genuine desperation and eviction lacing his voice.

There’s snot running down his nose and harsh sobs are wrecking through his body. The skin on his arse must be scarlet and bruised, it being one of the longest and most painful spankings he’s ever endured. 

His crying is getting louder and louder, turning into bawling as he’s thrashing around, unable to lay still and take it. Harry is grounding him with one hand on his lower back, but he continues to land blow after blow on Louis’ buttocks.

It takes a minute or so for Louis to realise Harry has momentarily stopped and is calmly speaking into his ear, stroking away his sweat-soaked hair and holding his neck with a firm grasp, stroking the side of it carefully with his thumb.

“You’re going to take ten more, baby and then you will be done. Ten more and we’ll have a long, nice cuddle, okay?” Harry says and as soon as the words enter Louis’ slowed down brain he starts to cry with new vigour. 

“No! We’re done now!” he demands and Louis can see Harry shake his head from the bouncing of soft curls just in Louis’ eye line. 

Harry waits for a beat, apparently to see if Louis has anything more to say, but when he only screams out pleas for Harry to stop with a “Daddy! I’ll be good, no more! Please, I’m done,” he gets back into position.

Louis can, even in his worked-up state, tell that Harry’s keeping close attention to him as he starts sobbing and screaming more and more uncontrolled, taking a little longer in between each slap to gauge his reactions, seemingly analysing them and waiting for something in particular.  

He also counts out loud for Louis, and around the seventh smart Louis has screamed himself hoarse and stopped thrashing, inadvertently calming down again to soft weeping and whimperings completely exhausted, like all the air just went out of him.

The pain on his buttocks has reached its crescendo and dulled down; the last three emitting merely soft whimpers from him. 

When Harry says “ten,” Louis feels like he’s floating, all conscious thoughts and tension banished away. All the control he so desperately needs to exercise over himself and everyone around him has been forcibly taken away because he could never willingly relinquish it.

He feels at peace for the first time in so, so long. 

He starts to cry softly again, out of pure relief of the calming of his heart which has been beating so hard for the last few hours - ever since he opened the door and saw Xander standing there. 

“That’s it, baby. All done,” Harry comforts him, gently picking him up bridal style and moving them to sit in the love seat. 

That makes Louis cry a little bit more. 

When he feels the chafing of Harry’s jeans on his abrased bum, he wails, however, and then starts to sob in earnest again, feeling so emotionally frayed.

Shh, I’m sorry, baby. It’s all right, I’ll fix it,” Harry says, kissing him on the head. 

Somehow, Harry manages to shimmy out of his jeans while causing Louis minimal discomfort. When he’s only clad in tight, black briefs, he settles Louis easily back on his lap, crossing his legs so Louis can fit into the dip between them. He tiredly leans against the other man’s chest, unable to move on his own.

Louis feels utterly exhausted; as if he has come first in a marathon and is completely wrung out. Harry continues to shush and console him, telling him how well he did, how perfect he is. 

At one point during the soft praises and comfort, Louis just cries because he desperately wants to cry forever and forever, but finally, after too long, he’s all dried out, tired to his very bones, with a pounding headache, clammy skin and with a clear, free head for the first time in a very long time.

Harry is still holding him, gently kissing his forehead and stroking his bare belly with his fingers, making a tingly sensation run up Louis' spine.

“This is embarrassing,” Louis croaks out, voice still hurting from his earlier shouting, but finally cognizant enough to realise the situation he's put himself in. 

Harry just snorts. “What’s embarrassing is that this is probably the first time you’ve cried since we broke up,” he responds and Louis buries his face into Harry’s warm chest. “I cried at least a little bit every day for the first few months, you’ve just saved it up is all,” he teases lightly and Louis laughs a little shakenly, still feeling so self-conscious; naked, cried-out, freshly spanked and the most vulnerable he can ever be in front of someone else, in the arms of his still clothed ex-boyfriend who doesn't want him anymore. 

“I guess it has built up,” he admits and Harry nods sagely.

“All you needed was a little cry, baby. I just helped you get there, nothing embarrassing about that.”

Louis is quiet for a little while. “Apparently, I also needed a punishment, you even said so.” 

Harry sighs a little. “You needed for you to have a punishment this time, there’s a difference,” Harry states. “I’m just happy I could make you feel better.”

“My bum feels a lot worse,” Louis says, not wanting to get into his messed up psyche with a man that is no longer meant to be involved with it.

Harry laughs softly. “Your bum can take it. I’ll swat your arse every day to calm your mind if I have to,” he jokes and Louis laughs a little before they both turn quiet. 

“Except you can’t.”

Harry sighs a little. “I don’t care that we’re broken up, Lou. You’re my baby and always will be. This has nothing to do with our relationship status. If you need my help to relieve your tension you can come and ask me. And if I see that you haven’t come in time and are in dire need, I will help you regardless and probably give you a few spanks more than you’d like, so choose wisely. I don’t want a repeat of this, you worried me for a bit there.”

Louis looks down ashamed but feels the need to defend himself.

“It’s not my fault I never asked. We were broken up, I thought I had to deal with it on my own, and I still do. I tried to just repress the need, hoping it'd fizzle out. Instead, it just got worse.”

Harry sighs again, tilting his chin so Louis is forced to look him in the eyes. 

“I understand your reasoning. And I am sorry too for not having this conversation with you before it was too late. I’m just saying I will not be happy if you ignore your needs for so long again. It’s not good for your mental health.”

Louis drags his face away and laughs bitterly.

“And what about your new boyfriend? I can’t depend on you for intimate things anymore, Harry! I need to figure things out on my own.”

Harry purses his lips, an angry tenseness in his shoulders that makes Louis tense as well in his arms, feeling upset that he’s upset Harry so shortly after he was meant to make him feel good and proud. 

Tears pool into his eyes again, and then Harry seems to snap out of it.

“Fuck, baby, I'm sorry for getting angry. Please don’t cry,” he implores sweetly. “Alright, let’s have this conversation later, yeah? Just cuddles for my baby, now,” he promises, rocking him slightly and Louis nods, allowing himself to be comforted and doted on.

After a while, Harry gets up to grab them some water, leftover pizza and a blanket. He gently rubs some cooling ointment over Louis’ bum once he’s back, once again making Louis feel a little awkward, before he finally slips behind Louis, spooning him with one arm possessively laid over his waist in an all too familiar way. 

“I didn’t like seeing you and Xander in our love seat,” Louis admits quietly, like a confession, once they put the TV on, Graham Norton playing.

“I know, baby. It’s difficult,” Harry admits, squeezing his belly slightly and kissing his shoulder blade.

“Maybe I can take it home to mine?” Louis asks, hoping Harry will understand his confusing feelings for the object and how very hard it is for Louis to see Harry cuddle someone else on the piece of furniture where he has always taken care of Louis.

“No, baby.” Harry’s voice is understanding, but final.

“I will pay for it.”

There’s a little warning squeeze around his mid-section and then there’s a soft kiss to the back of his head.

“It’s not for sale, baby and it never will be. You’re right, it is yours," Harry concedes, "but it’s staying here with me. And when you want or need it, we’ll use it together, just like we planned when we bought it all those years ago.”

Louis grumbles, wriggling in Harry's arms to show his displeasure.

"Can you tell me you understand and agree?" Harry asks calmly and, after a few moments, Louis begrudgingly nods.

"I understand," he repeats.

"And?"

"And while I don't agree, I'll try my best to follow your stupid, unreasonable rules regarding it."

They're quiet for a few beats, watching the TV.

"I guess I owe you that," Louis admits quietly, shame coiling in his belly for a second.

"No, baby," Harry replies, stroking his hip bone assertively, but reassuringly. 

"You owe yourself that."