Work Text:
“Louuu, babe, could you do those little plaits for me?”
Harry came bouncing into the room, freshly showered and very chipper, both dimples fully out as he grinned at his lounging husband.
“Of course, beautiful. C’mere.”
He settled down in front of Louis’ legs, leaning up against them and tipping his head back to make upside-down eye contact.
“Hi,” he said, smiley and touchy and so very endearing. Louis returned his greeting and bent down to give his lips a peck, but he found it a bit difficult as noses bumped chins and their aim was slightly off—there was a reason they didn't kiss upside-down, after all. As he began to weave half of Harry’s damp curls into a soft plait, he heard a sigh of pleasure from Harry as his eyes closed, fully relaxed in his loving care.
“Lookin’ so pretty today, baby,” Louis whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek. “Ooh, you smell lovely. Like vanilla.”
The scent of their bathroom after Harry’s shower was a pretty reliable indication of when he was feeling especially beautiful, more feminine than usual. There were some days where he had the softest scent—vanilla, coconut, minty toothpaste—but others when he was musky with sandalwood and bergamot and the alcohol of mouthwash. He most often smelled like Harry: something like fresh cotton and lavender soap and the lightest hint of tobacco lingering in his hair if he and Louis had been together long enough. It was one of the first things Louis would notice about his partner, and he so appreciated having that little hint.
Did he have patterned socks on that day? Was he using Lou or Louis? How many buttons were undone on his shirt? How deep did those dimples carve into his cheeks? Were his lips the slightest bit pink with the barely-there gloss he hid in the bottom of his bag? Louis was beginning a log of these little observations to get a handle on what would suit his love best that day. It would determine if he was sunshine or sweetheart. Harry or H. Husband, partner, beautiful, pretty, handsome, all of the above and more…
Louis tried his very best to read Harry and give him the exact love he deserved in every moment.
Before Harry could respond to the compliment, the couple heard the other boys begin to wander in from their beds.
“Morning,” Harry greeted them cheerily, and all but Zayn—who gave a grumpy grunt, still less than pleased to have been woken—returned it with much less enthusiasm.
“Doing those again?” Niall asked with a big yawn, and Harry beamed as he leaned back into Louis to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Mhm. Keeps the hair out my face, and Louis’ an expert.” He wriggled around where he sat when Louis rested his chin on top of his head and wrapped arms over his shoulders in a sloppy hug.
“Looks nice,” he replied sleepily, not sparing another second to look at Harry and Louis and focusing his eyes longingly on the box of cereal in Zayn’s hand.
“You should try it sometime, Nialler. Grow your hair out.”
“Nah, can’t steal your look, mate.” Louis appreciated how Niall always put up with Harry’s bursts of morning energy, never shooting him a nasty look or ignoring his attempts to start a conversation no matter how displeased he was with being awake.
The boys got their breakfast before coming to join the couple in the seating area. It was far too small for five, so most of the band was on the floor, leaning up against the walls and swaying with the slight movements of the bus.
“Got them done too, do you?” Liam commented, referring to Harry’s painted fingernails. There was something in his tone—unplaceable, but certainly not affirming—that made Harry fumble for words.
careful, harry. say too much and they’re gonna know.
“I dunno. It’s kinda fun. Looks nice with my rings, right?”
“Okay, Harriet,” Liam teased, thinking it was just an innocent joke, but Louis saw Harry’s face fall.
Harry took a little breath in as if to say something back, but he instead pushed himself up off the ground and shuffled off to the other end of the bus.
“What the hell’d you do that for?” Louis hissed at him, venom in his stare.
“It was only a joke,” Liam, completely bewildered, defended himself with a furrowed brow. “That not allowed anymore?”
“No, it’s—” he huffed in frustration and rolled his eyes. “Leave him be, alright? He looks beautiful, so I want you t’shut your mouth ‘bout it.”
“But it’s not like I—”
He was cut off immediately—Louis’ voice raised well over his but hopefully not loud enough to float back through the closed door that split Harry from the rest of the boys.
“I don’t wanna hear it, mate. Let him like what he likes, s’none of your fuckin’ business.”
“God, alright. I’ll stop. Sensitive today, aren’t you two? Wake up on the wrong side of the—”
“No,” Niall interrupted suddenly as he stepped in and pulled Liam’s elbow to keep him seated. Seeing the flames in Louis’ eyes meant he needed to stop Liam or risk being in the line of fire of an argument nobody really wanted to have. He gave Louis a stern look and jerked his head over toward where Harry was sitting at the other end of the bus. Since Niall didn’t often take charge in that way, Louis obeyed and left without another word to Liam.
Harry was found on the sofa, staring down at the floor with hands clasped in their lap as they rubbed their thumbs together. Making sure to avoid slamming the sliding door shut, Louis entered with careful steps.
“Hey, beautiful,” Louis murmured as he sat at Harry’s side. “Alright?”
“Not really,” his partner mumbled with a little sniff. “Could you get the acetone?”
“What for?”
to fix you, harry. fix you and make you normal.
Shaky hands were held out to Louis, showing off the freshly-done black nails. Louis laced the fingers of both hands together, squeezing Harry’s to comfort them.
“No, no. We’re not givin’ in to Liam’s nonsense. You look lovely, he’s bein’ a little prick."
liam’s right, though. you're being silly, harry.
When Harry nodded, both hands released before they leaned into Louis, sighing as he slipped an arm around their slim waist.
“Does he know?” Harry whispered into Louis’ shoulder, pressing their cheek into it and getting a long kiss on the top of their head.
“Know what, baby?”
There was a long pause where Louis could feel his partner’s breaths grow shallow—nervous and unsure and needing continued comfort. Though Louis thought he might know what Harry was getting at, he wanted them to broach the topic. That felt like the most appropriate way to handle the conversation and not put them in a situation that made them even more upset.
“About… me.”
Drawing Harry in extra close, Louis tucked their head under his chin and rubbed a slow hand up and down their side.
“No, there’s no way. I’ve not said a thing to no one.”
“Then what’d I do wrong?” Harry’s eyes were glassy when they emerged from their hiding place and looked at their husband. “Am I that obvious?”
“I don’t think you’ve been any different than usual, love. Why — are you feelin’ different this mornin’?”
you tell him and he’ll leave you. you don’t want that, do you, harry?
“No,” Harry mumbled, but they wouldn’t meet the concerned gaze that tried so hard to make contact.
“H…”
he won’t want you anymore, harry. you’re not what he signed up for, are you?
“I don’t wanna tell you.” The words were mumbled, Harry’s lips hardly moving as they spoke.
“Do you not want to or are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?” Louis asked knowingly, making Harry’s eyes fall closed with a long pause.
“I’m feeling kinda… girl. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry.”
Immediately, Louis placed a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek, nudging his nose into it as an extra affectionate gesture.
“No, sweetheart, don’t you ever be sorry,” Louis assured them, shifting toward those pet names he liked to use when Harry experienced his world with a more delicate point of view.
Harry had never told him that they felt girl before—usually, they would opt for words like feminine or pretty—so Louis was a little surprised by the choice of vocabulary. It was a good kind of surprise though, the kind that meant he was able to help Harry explore another side of themself and give them the opportunity to feel wholly and entirely loved and adored.
“Is it alright to be? ‘Cos you don’t, erm, you don’t—”
Their slow ramble was cut off with a little reassuring squeeze of their shoulder, the touch from a steady hand melting them on the spot.
“I like you.” Louis’ other hand gently turned Harry’s chin so they were face-to-face, giving him the ability to peck their nose.
“Even if I’m, like, a…” Harry trailed off, not able to bring themself to say the word, but they didn’t have to. No matter what Harry would say that they were, Louis’ answer would always be yes.
Yes, yes, yes. Always and forever a yes to Harry.
“Doesn’t matter to me, darling. Not only do I adore you, but I’ll always like you.”
“I’ll always like you too,” his partner repeated, blushing a sweet pink and looking away with a little smile.
“Aw, is someone shy today?” Louis teased, poking at Harry’s stomach and grinning as they tried to escape his grasp. “You do smell incredible, H.”
“Vanilla soap,” they murmured, still looking at the floor with a subtle, pleased grin.
“I could eat you up, sweetheart.” Louis nipped their ear before pressing a long, loving kiss on their cheek. “You’re the girl of me dreams, y’know that?”
he’s lying to you. you can’t be loved, harry. not like this.
“Stop it. You’re just saying that,” Harry mumbled, trying to escape Louis’ tight hold, but he wouldn’t let them go just yet.
“Sayin’ it ‘cos it’s true.” A silence fell between them while Harry rested their hands over Louis’ on their stomach. He could tell they didn’t believe him, but he would do anything and everything to be sure that Harry knew just how special they were to him. “I’d never lie ‘bout that, H. I’m not worried ‘bout who you are ‘cos anythin’ and everythin’ you could be is beyond me wildest dreams. M’serious.”
In place of a response, Harry climbed into Louis’ lap—their long legs bent at the knees and tucked up with Louis’ arm scooped around the shins. Their head rested on their husband’s shoulder, and something as simple as the man’s skin on theirs was enough to help their heartbeat even itself back to normal.
Louis had said that they smelled good, but they had nothing on the fragrance that lingered around their husband. It was smoky and warm and unexpectedly sweet, and it always washed a wave of comfort over the younger boy. Traces of it took residence in his hoodies and oversized jumpers that Harry stole more frequently than Louis was able to wear them himself, but he’d never say anything to his partner. They practically shared all of their possessions, and Harry could do whatever they wanted for all Louis cared.
“Hey—” Louis said with a soft kiss to Harry's forehead, “—thanks for tellin’ me, love.”
“It’s scary to say it. Out loud. Scary in my head too,” they admitted nervously, and Louis hummed in understanding.
it’s scary because it’s wrong. you’re wrong, harry.
“I know it is, and you trustin’ me with all this? It only makes me love you more. More and more each day.”
“I love you the most,” they insisted, wrapping arms around Louis’ neck and snuggling in as close as they could manage. Louis scooped his arms around Harry and pulled them tight against his body.
“S’not possible ‘cos, believe it or not, I love you the most anyone’s ever loved anythin’ ever before.”
A tranquil silence drifted between them, Harry feeling safe in their husband’s arms while Louis’ heart swelled with unconditional love and pride in his partner.
“What d’you say we spend the day together, hm? Get off this bus into the hotel, order room service, I spoil you rotten for hours and hours…”
“Didn’t you have plans with Niall?” Harry reminded him, but Louis shrugged, unable to care any less about the vague plans he had with his friend when his love was needing all of his devoted attention. That was the most important thing of all, and nothing could possibly draw him away from Harry when they needed him.
“Oh, I’d much rather be with you, babygirl. Whatever you want, you’ve got it.”
“Okay,” they breathed, staring at Louis as they pulled out slightly from the embrace.
“So what do you want?” A hand pushed a stray curl off Harry's forehead before returning to their back.
“I-I want you to call me that. I mean, if you wanted to. I like it.”
The cutest little expression crossed Harry’s features—hopeful, pleased, and filled with adoration for their husband—so how could Louis possibly say no even if he wanted to?
“‘Course I will. I’ll do anythin’ for you, babygirl. Let’s have some breakfast ‘fore we cuddle up in our bunk, sounds good?”
Harry bit their lip, and Louis knew exactly what they were nervous about. It would be difficult to convince Harry to shake away those thoughts and reenter the room with confidence, but Louis did what he could to support his partner.
“Love, they won’t know. You’re jus’ H, nobody’s gonna notice a thing except you smell better than the lot of us. C’mon, hold me hand.”
“That’s too feminine,” Harry worried, tugging on their fingers.
“I literally don’t even know what you mean by that, but if y’don’t wanna that’s alright.”
When Louis stood to leave, Harry grasped his wrist tight and held him in place.
“Can we — can I have another minute? Just to… so I can, erm, I dunno. Please?”
“Hey, Harry, I—”
was he listening in? do you think he knows, harry?
A guiding hand was placed on Harry’s back as Louis led him right past Liam, a silent instruction to pay him no mind and continue on their path.
“You want Shreddies, darling?”
Harry nodded, bottom lip sucked in slightly as he stayed quiet. If he said anything, they’d all know. It wasn’t like he sounded any different, there were no changes to possibly be detected… but they would know. Somehow, they’d know. He just knew it.
“Hey, Harry, can we talk?”
The unexpected voice came from Liam, and Louis’ nostrils flared with frustration when Harry startled at the sudden sound.
it’s because he knows, isn’t it, harry? he heard and now he knows.
“Liam, would y’leave us alone for fuck’s sake.”
“I’d think that’s Harry’s decision, innit?”
stupid harry, he wants to talk ‘cos he knows. it's over.
It wasn’t hard for Louis to feel his partner getting tense; when Harry’s hand subtly drifted to the hem of Louis’ shirt to roll it between his fingers, he took charge.
“And it seems to me it’s a no. Right, H?”
Harry took a long second to stare at an apologetic Liam, then a fiercely protective Louis, before nodding.
“Not now,” he whispered. “Sorry.”
“Alright, fine. Sorry.”
oh god, harry, you know he knows. what if he tells everybody?
A weight was lifted from Harry’s shoulders when Liam left them alone again. It was safe again. Just the two of them felt safe. If nobody else was there, nobody else could know. They’d never find out.
“Relax, love, we’re alone now. No, H, you’re shakin’. Don’t be afraid of Payno.”
he knows he knows they all know fuck harry you’re so fucked.
“I-I’m not. But I’m afraid of…of me. I’ve never felt like this before.” It was only half a lie—the second bit was very much true. It wasn't that he feared his friend, but he did fear what the boy could do with the information if he knew.
“Like what?”
It was only after looking around the corner twice to ensure they were alone that Harry whispered close to Louis’ ear.
“Girl. Not really boy much, kinda only girl mostly. Maybe? And I’m scared.”
“Why, babe? What’s there to be scared of?” He asked, trying to keep his voice as warm and comforting as he possibly could.
“W-what if I never go back?” They spoke much faster than usual, and Louis wanted to keep them from winding themself up. He made sure they were always in contact—skin-to-skin to help them from disappearing up into their head.
“Back to what?”
Half a minute went by as the two looked at each other, Harry biting their lip and breathing heavily while Louis’ kind eyes were trained on theirs, inviting them to speak whenever they were ready.
they’ll find out and they’ll hate you and you shouldn’t be like this, harry, you’re seriously fucked in the head
“Boy.”
“H, there’s no goin’ back to anythin’. You’re you, love.”
“But I’m s’posed to be a boy.”
“Sometimes what we think we’re meant t’be isn’t who we are. It’s not like bein’ a g—”
“Don’t say it. Please,” they begged, and Louis respected the boundary.
“Alright, sorry. S’not like bein’ who you are’s a special treat. Like you’ve gotta lie ’til you can reward yourself. You’re who you are in every moment. Doesn’t matter who that is, babe.”
Harry only nodded, but Louis took that as a success—nobody cried, so it managed to be a relatively productive conversation.
“Now, I think someone’s pretty little back could use a massage, hm? What d’you think?” Harry smiled a little but didn’t verbalise their agreement. “Wanna treat you like a princess.”
“I’m your princess,” Harry said, hooking their chin over Louis’ shoulder from behind and wrapping their arms innocently around his waist. “And you’re my—”
They were cut off by the opening of the door to the lounge.
“Ew, get a room. Or… a bunk,” Zayn groaned, obviously joking as he covered his eyes. “We’re stoppin’ to get some fresh air, walk around. Thought y’might wanna know, if you’re not too busy romancing each other.”
The evening was spent in just the way Harry wanted—catching up on cuddles and kisses, making less-than-impressive sketches for new tattoos, and ordering in a delicious meal after Louis ran his hands up and down each of Harry’s muscles to loosen the tension they always carried through their lanky body.
“You’re so good to me.” Harry felt their husband’s little laugh vibrate his chest, loving the sound beneath his ear and hugging him even tighter around the waist.
“You deserve it, darling,” Louis replied as he reached for the glass of wine Harry gestured to, nearly falling off the bed as he stretched to pull it closer.
After taking a sip of his own, Harry coerced their husband into trying a bit because no, I promise you’ll like this one, Lou, it’s real good, and giggled when he made a disgusted face, downing a few swigs of ginger ale to mask the tartness.
“Oh, you’ll pay for that, babygirl,” he threatened playfully, and Harry positively swooned. Their heart sent hot blood to colour the tops of their cheekbones and their painted-nail hands swatted away stomach-tickling fingers to end their revenge.
For months, Harry feared opening his heart to Louis and sharing their feelings, but things were so easy and gentle and comfortable that they wondered what they could have possibly been afraid of. They were so loved. No matter what, Louis would love Harry. He always would, and they couldn’t have asked for any more.