Archive of Our Own ^beta

Louis is trying.

Really. He actually put in some effort this time.

He’d begged his mother not to set him up again, and he’ll admit that, in the past, he showed up in jogging bottoms and a jumper just to make the date go by faster and so the poor guy or girl wouldn’t feel like they were missing out when Louis told them it wasn’t going to work out. Of course that got back to his mum eventually, and when she’d called to tell him about how a friend of a co-worker has a lovely son who’s apparently just dying to meet him, she implored him to give it an actual try. “If not for yourself then for me, Louis, please? For my peace of mind?” So he made a deal. Louis will actually try and if it doesn’t work, his mother will give her matchmaking a rest.

But all of Louis’ goodwill don’t make Jonathan a more interesting conversationalist. Or a more attractive one, frankly. Mother dearest must really be getting desperate if she’s setting him up with skinny little things who wear their blond hair almost entirely shorn. Louis knows his mother knows he likes a good head of hair.

“Everything alright? Can I get you anything else?” their waiter asks, pulling Louis out of his thoughts. Jonathan ignores him but Louis turns to the bloke and gives him a friendly smile, reassuring him that they’re fine. The waiter - he’s got a great head of hair - lets his eyes flit to Jonathan for a moment and then winces at Louis, coaxing a guilty smile from him, before he leaves them be.

“So I said of course he’s not going to be thrilled about it, right?” Jonathan says.

“Hm? Right,” Louis says, reaching for his glass of water so he doesn't have to pretend to know what Jonathan’s talking about. Something about his friend from work having boyfriend troubles? Jonathan seems weirdly into Louis, or at least not not into him, and Louis is already trying to work out how to tell him that, no, they won’t be seeing each other again. He feels a bit bad for it.

“I mean, maybe straight blokes are into it if their girlfriends are bi and they get to threesome it up or something, but, like, we’re gay. We’re not into pussy. I wouldn’t compete with that either,” Jonathan says.

“Wait, what?” Louis asks, setting his glass of water back down.

“My work friend Daniel thinks his boyfriend’s going to break up with him ‘cause he told him he was bi,” Jonathan recaps, seemingly not at all surprised or bothered that Louis has not been paying attention. “I mean, what was he expecting?”

“For his boyfriend not to be a dick, maybe,” Louis says, reaching for his napkin to wipe off the last of the oily film the pasta left on his lips. At least that takes care of the small measure of guilt Louis felt over turning this guy down.

Jonathan scoffs.

“So you’re saying you’d be okay if we were going out and I told you I’m also into birds?”

“Are you?” Louis asks.

“No, but that’s not the point. If I was-”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Louis interrupts. “It’d be kinda hypocritical.”

“What?” Jonathan asks, brow furrowed like he’s not following.

“I’m bi,” Louis says and gets up, pushing his chair into the table neatly. “And since you’re a prick, this isn’t going to work out. Have a nice life.”

“You’re walking out on me?” Jonathan asks, completely baffled.

“Yep, I am.” Louis says and turns to leave.

“What, and you’re just gonna leave me with the bill?” Jonathan calls after him.

“It’s the least you can do,” Louis says over his shoulder, and then grins to himself and pretends he can’t hear Jonathan calling after him to come back.

It's been unusually chilly all week, and the air outside has cooled off a little more in the last hour or so, but it’s still the middle of July, so Louis isn’t cold in his cuffed jeans and light shirt. He briefly debates rolling the sleeves down, but then decides against it. He’ll get used to the slightly chillier air in a few moments and the tube’s always unbearably warm anyway.

He digs his phone out of his pockets and pushes his earbuds in with one hand while opening up his caller list with the other. It’s a Friday night. Niall will definitely be out somewhere. Louis really needs a few hours with people he can stand right now.

“Louis! Aren’t you on a date? Do you want me to fake a family emergency?” Niall asks immediately after having picked up the phone.

“Already walked out, mate,” Louis says, making Niall laugh. Or maybe that was someone else. You never really know with Niall. “Where are you? Sounds loud.”

“We’re at the, er, The Lexington. In St. Pancras. Get off at Angel,” Niall says. “You joining us? Leemo’s here as well!”

“Yeah, I’m on my way over,” Louis says and picks up his pace a bit now that he definitely has a destination. "I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

"Tommo's joining us!" Louis can hear Niall announce to the table, the exclamation met with a cheer that makes Louis grin, before Niall turns his attention to him again. "We're towards the back upstairs. Come find us!"

"I'll be there in about thirty. Bit more maybe," Louis says.

"Alright, see ya then!"

"Bye!"

The tube ride thankfully isn’t too long, and Louis spends most of it glaring at his reflection in the glass of the carriage door, thinking about how he really wants to call up his mother and blame her for this. She wouldn’t have known, of course. The rational part of Louis’ brain is aware of that but the other part - the one that keeps hearing “what was he expecting?” over and over - needs someone to blame who he can actually be mad at. Walking out on Jonathan was satisfying in the moment, but the anger in the pit of his stomach isn’t gone yet.

But if he talks to his mother now he'll be unfairly mean, and even if she is the one who sent him on a date with that prick, she doesn't deserve the full first wave of Louis' wrath. He'll just grab a couple pints and unload on Niall and Liam instead. They're used to it.

The pub is easy to find, thankfully, once Louis has ascertained he's headed in the right direction with the help of google maps. A wall of noise hits him as he pulls open the door, but it's the boisterous kind of noise of a pub full of cheerful people and a band playing on the small stage towards the back. It makes Louis' lips twitch upwards at the corners automatically. Upstairs is a little bit quieter, the noise drifting up from downstairs a backdrop to conversations and laughter, but no live band to necessitate shouting to be heard.

Louis scans the crowd as he makes his way through the room, a loud cackle drawing his attention and a shock of blond hair confirming his suspicion. With a wide grin, he makes his way over towards Niall, Liam, and whoever else has joined them tonight.

"Hey, lads," he says, pushing his hands down on Liam's shoulders, who's sat with his back towards the room and jumps a bit at the sudden contact. The glare he turns around to give Louis turns into a smile almost immediately though.

"Louis!" Niall cheers, raising both arms in the air and stumbling out of the booth to pull him into a hug. "You made it!"

"I did," Louis agrees and turns back to the booth once Niall lets him go to wave at the rest of the lot. Some of them he knows, some of them he's never met.

"Bad date?" Liam asks, fully aware of Louis' mum-mandated monthly blind dates.

"Abysmal," Louis confirms. "Maybe not as bad as Louisa, but definitely on par with Kevin."

Liam winces sympathetically. "Get yourself a pint and then you can complain to us. We're just solving Anna's love crisis."

A petite redhead with freckles and a brilliant, slightly tipsy, grin lifts her hand in a cheerful wave.

"I have a crush on my sister's boss," she says. "And he just asked me out, but the office already hates her, so..."

This time it's Louis' turn for a sympathetic wince. "Yikes. Talk to your sister about it, see what she says. And keep it lowkey maybe, if you go for it."

Anna nods. "That's the general consensus."

Louis grins at her and then claps Liam on the shoulders again.

"Well. I'm gonna get myself a pint and be right back," he says. "Anyone else want anything?"

Everyone shakes their heads, most of the glasses full enough to suggest a recent refill, so Louis turns and makes his way to the bar, shuffling into the empty space next to a bloke with a nice set of shoulders left by two girls chatting between themselves. They're balancing what looks like far too many drinks back to their own group of friends. It luckily doesn't take more than a handful of moments before one of the two bar tenders bustling around behind the bar spots Louis and grins at him.

"What can I get you?" he asks, and Louis can't help noticing that this boy also has a great head of hair. He's not sure why he's so fixated on Jonathan's disastrous haircut, but he supposes it's better than being stuck on his biphobia.

"Just a pint of whatever's on draft, thanks," Louis says and leans against the counter as he waits. He's just surveying the many many bottles of delicious looking alcohol on the shelf behind the bar, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. For a moment he freezes, mind still partially stuck on Jonathan, until he remembers that he never lets his mother hand out his phone number to any of her blind date candidates. It's the one request she adheres to.

It's a text from his oldest younger sister.

'Mum's dying to know how your date is but daren't text in case it's still going. I happen to think he's a wanker, so if you need to get out, fake a family emergency now.'

Louis grins and brings the other hand up to type out a reply. He always types with two thumbs. He probably could do it with one, but why strain across the wide screen when you've got a perfectly good second thumb? So his hands are small. Big whoop.

'Told me bi people are greedy/slutty so I walked out & left him with the bill,' Louis texts back.

"Your pint, mate," the bartender says then, so Louis looks up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket, pulling out his wallet instead. He waves the change away, tipping a bit more generously than he usually does since he didn't have to pay for his meal earlier, and fumbles with his wallet for a moment or two as he's trying to push it back into the pocket of his jeans. In hindsight, he really shouldn't have bothered with his best jeans.

His frown renewed, Louis reaches for his pint, but just as his fingers are closing around the sweating glass an elbow knocks into his arm and instead of Louis lifting the pint and turning back around towards Niall and Liam, the glass topples over, spilling more than half of its contents over the countertop before Louis can scrabble and pull it upright again.

The nice set of shoulders, whose elbows are apparently less nice, whirls around and puts his own drink down on the counter before reaching for a couple napkins to mop up the mess.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," he says.

"'S alright," Louis says, because that's what you're supposed to say, even when it is decidedly not alright.

"I should really watch my elbows. That's the second time this has happened this week," Shoulders says, catching Louis' eyes to shoot him an apologetic grin. Shoulders has lovely hair; a rich brown, shoulder length, and curling at the ends. Louis suddenly thinks of Head and Shoulders and ends up grinning at this bloke like he said something really funny.

"Really, it's okay," he repeats.

Head-and-Shoulders hands the sopping wet napkins to the bartender and lets him take over mopping up the rest of the spillage with a quiet 'sorry, thanks' before turning back to Louis.

"Let me buy you another one, just to replace this one. I promise I'll keep my elbows tucked in."

Louis hesitates for a moment.

"You don't have to talk to me or anything, I just feel bad that you've paid for a drink you didn't even get one sip of," Head-and-Shoulders says with a winning smile.

Louis nods at him. "Thank you. That's very nice of you."

Head-and-Shoulders shrugs it off and turns back to the bartender, apologising again and then requesting another pint for Louis.

Louis' phone buzzes again.

'Arse. Told me I couldn't pull off my tulle skirt cause i look nothing like a ballerina,' Lottie texts.

Louis glares at his phone. How dare he.

'Like he's one to talk,' he texts back.

'I know, right?? The hair???'

'Right?!' Louis sends, glad he's not the only one inexplicably obsessed with Jonathan's haircut. It somehow manages to be both bland and horrible at the same time.

'Want me to let mum know it was a disaster?'

'Please. She promised no more dates after this. I'm out with Liam and Niall. I'll call tomorrow.'

'Like when she promised me a unicorn?'

Louis grins, vividly remembering her excitement over the promised unicorn and how she'd been on her best behaviour for all of December.

'She did get you that plushie,' he texts.

'That's why you should be worried! Have fun with L and N!'

Louis doesn't bother texting back, and when he looks up from his phone Head-and-Shoulders is holding Louis' pint securely in a hand that Louis can tell would dwarf his, just by how far his fingers curl around the glass.

"Thanks," Louis says, taking it from him maybe a bit more carefully than actually warranted.

"You're welcome. I hope I didn't make your evening much worse," Head-and-Shoulders says.

Louis frowns at him. "How d'you mean?"

"Just, you were frowning at your phone just then... sorry, that sounds super creepy. Sorry," Head-and-Shoulders says, eyes going wide with apology.

"It's alright," Louis says. It seems to be the only thing he says to this guy. And then, without making the consious choice to, he goes on to say, "I was just venting to my sister about the biphobic dick our mum set me up with."

Whoops.

Head-and-Shoulders' eyes go a little wider in surprise for a split second before he rolls them with an admirable amount of annoyance on his face.

"Hate when that happens," he says. "We didn't choose our sexuality anymore than they did."

Head-and-Shoulders is bi. Louis blinks and lets his eyes sweep over him for a moment. There's more than just hair and shoulders to him; there are big eyes and soft lips, a sturdy jawline, those hands, trim hips and legs Louis would already be humping if he were a dog. If Head-and-Shoulders notices the way Louis was checking him out just then he doesn't let it show on his face.

"Hear, hear," Louis says and they clink their glasses together in a commiserating cheers. Louis looks past Head-and-Shoulders so he won't give in to the temptation of watching his throat work as he swallows.

The door to the stairs opens as a group of people spill in, the noise level spiking for a moment, before the door swings shut again.

"A guy once refused to let me blow him when he found out I'm bi, cause he didn't want a mouth that eats pussy," Head-and-Shoulders says, effectively pulling Louis' attention away from the new arrivals and back to him.

"What?" he says, unsure whether he's in more disbelief that it happened or that Head-and-Shoulders just told a complete stranger about it in a crowded pub.

"My thoughts exactly. Who turns down a blowjob over something that stupid?"

"Idiots," Louis says, clinking his glass against Head-and-Shoulders' again.

One of the guys from the group of new arrivals, a burly guy with dark hair, is staring at them. He turns away when he sees Louis looking, but glances back at them only a moment later. Louis' lips quirk up a little. Burly Guy is staring at Head-and-Shoulders.

Louis leans in towards him a little bit, even though Burly Guy is all the way across the room and there's no way he can hear them.

"I think you've got an admirer," he says.

Head-and-Shoulders grins at him, eyes twinkling but he doesn't look around immediately.

"Yeah? Are they fit?" he asks.

"If you're into that sort of thing," Louis says with a shrug. He never meant to start a conversation with this stranger, and while he's gorgeous, Louis's in no mood to take him home, and yet... for a moment he's reluctant to offer a more detailed description or even point Burly Guy out to Head-and-Shoulders.

"Bit teddybear-ish. Dark hair. Late thirties?" Louis says.

Head-and-Shoulders frowns.

"Not your type?" Louis asks.

"Nah, just... is he looking right now?"

Louis glances over the crowd surreptitiously in case Burly Guy is indeed looking over at them. He's not.

"No. He's over your right shoulder, at the back," he says.

Head-and-Shoulders turns his head with a lot more subtlety than his earlier elbow manoeuvre suggests. When he turns back around he's frowning more deeply and takes a big gulp of his own drink. Ginger beer, Louis notes, and resists the temptation to smile.

"An ex?" Louis guesses.

Head-and-Shoulders opens his mouth to answer and then shuts it again, wincing a bit.

"I suppose," he says, looking both annoyed and dejected.

Louis reaches out a hand to put on his arm or something, but changes his mind and pulls it back.

"Wanna tell me about it?" he offers.

Head-and-Shoulders hesitates for a moment and then heaves a sigh so heavy it makes his shoulders slump a bit.

"We've been sort of seeing each other for a few months but then about three weeks ago he stopped calling and he takes forever to get back to me and keeps making really flimsy excuses why he can't see me," he says.

Louis grimaces. "You think he's cheating on you?"

"No, I don't think he's the type," Head-and-Shoulders says. "We never put a label on what we were doing but I thought we were really, like, getting somewhere, you know?"

Louis nods. "You think the commitment freaked him out?"

"Maybe. I mean, he was technically more the commitment type than me, but... I guess it's possible? We have mutual friends so we do see each other, and he always flirts and such he just doesn't... follow through."

Louis glances over at Burly Guy over Head-and-Shoulders' shoulder. Burly Guy does not seem pleased to see the two of them chatting.

"Well, he certainly doesn't seem happy you're chatting to me," Louis says. "Maybe he just needs a reminder that he's not your only option and he better snatch you up while he can?"

Head-and-Shoulders looks at him curiously.

"Are you offering to pretend to flirt with me so my sort-of-ex will get jealous and want me back?" he asks.

Louis grins and shrugs. "I suppose so."

"Well, alright. Why not. I'm enjoying talking to you," Head-and-Shoulders says. "My friends aren't going to miss me too dearly."

"Same here," Louis says and then leans in again, putting one hand on Head-and-Shoulders' upper arm. "I'm Louis, by the way."

Head-and-Shoulders throws his head back to laugh and Louis's not sure if he's just playing along or actually that amused they've not exchanged names until now. Either way the display makes him grin.

"Harry," Head-and-Shoulders says, and clinks their glasses together again.

They chat through the rest of their pints, and then through a second set as well, all the while Burly Guy sits in the corner and quietly glowers at them from time to time. Louis learns that Harry works at a photography/modern art gallery as a sort of all-round employee and evr since a trip to the US he likes pies better than cakes. In return Louis tells him about the sixth form Drama and English courses he teaches and how his ex-boyfriend got him hooked on madeleines. They stear clear of Jonathan, the biphobic prick, or Burly Guy and his commitment issues, sticking to light-hearted small talk instead, but Louis finds he's having a good time. Harry's sense of humour is quite dry and a bit dirty, once he gets going, and Louis can appreciate a good penis joke. Even a not so good penis joke.

By the time Harry's hiding a yawn behind his large hand Louis's feeling quite drowsy himself.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," Louis announces, shuffling back a bit from where they've started leaning into each other a bit more over the course of their conversation. "I'm knackered, to be honest."

Harry glances at the watch he wears on his left wrist and nods. "Yeah, me too. Thanks for the conversation."

"My pleasure," Louis grins and glances back at Burly Guy who is still watching them. Honestly. If he's that obsessed with Harry he should really not be playing games with him.

"Want to make this all look very scandalous and leave together?" Louis suggests.

Harry laughs and shrugs. "Sure, why not. I've just got to say goodbye to my friends."

"Me too. Meet you by the stairs?"

"Alright," Harry says, lips curled into an amused smile.

Louis weaves his way through the crowd back to the booth Liam, Niall, and their friends are occupying and puts his hands back on Liam's shoulders.

"Had fun?" Liam asks, expression far too smug to not have seen Louis and Harry chat and drawn his own conclusions.

Louis laughs. "I did, but it's not like that. I'll explain tomorrow, yeah?"

Liam studies him for a moment and then shrugs. "Sure. You leaving?"

"Yeah, I'm more tired than I thought I was."

"Alright. Talk to you tomorrow," Liam says, reaching up to pat Louis' hand.

"Will do," Louis says and then turns to wave at the rest of the table, wishing them all a fun night.

Harry's already waiting by the stairs and throws an arm over Louis' shoulders, holding the door open for him. Louis guesses Burly Guy is watching and gently nudges Harry in the side, winking at him. Harry grins back.

Louis shivers a bit when they step out into the night air. It's significantly chillier outside than in the crowded pub, so he reaches up to roll down his sleeves after all.

"Thanks for keeping me company all night," Harry says again. "I had fun talking to you."

"Sure," Louis says. "I had fun too."

They stand suspended in silence for a bit, and then Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

"This is a bit strange maybe, but would you want to exchange numbers?" he asks.

Louis' stomach drops a bit.

"Oh, er... um, Harry--"

"I'm not trying to pick you up!" Harry interrupts. "I mean, you're gorgeous and all, but I'm... really not up for it today."

"Oh, thank god," Louis breathes.

Harry chuckles a bit. "I just think you're cool and I wouldn't mind hanging out again."

Louis blinks and takes a second or two to consider it. "Yeah, sure. That'd be cool."

Harry beams at him and they switch phones to type their numbers into each others', respectively, before Harry nods at him a little awkwardly and takes a step back.

"I'll see you then, Louis," he says.

"Yeah, see you," Louis smiles and watches him turn around and walk towards the tube station. Following him immediately feels a little too awkward, so Louis fiddles with his headphones for longer than he has to and then takes off at an extra leisurely pace. From how this night started off Louis did not think he'd end up enjoying himself so much, even if he's not sure about Harry's offer to be friends. Louis saw Harry's other friends and they seem nothing like Louis. Probably he was just being polite. Probably he won't actually call.

Either way, Louis had fun, which is more than he thought he would when he first sat down with Jonathan. That's still a win in Louis' book, whether Harry calls or not.

Harry calls on Monday. He calls just as Louis's walking out of the day's workshop session for the Little Red Riding Hood play he's putting on with a children's theatre group, wondering what to have for lunch. He's sort of in the mood for sushi, but also sandwiches, but also something meaty. A medium rare steak that oozes blood and juice. Yum.

The contact displayed on his ringing phone's screen when he pulls it out of his messenger bag is 'Harry the pint spiller'. Louis can't say he's not surprised but he can't say he's not pleased either.

He swipes his thumb across the phone.

"Hi, Harry. I wasn't sure you'd actually call, to be honest," he says.

"Um," Harry says, sounding unsettled.

"I'm happy you did," Louis clarifies.

"Right, good," Harry says, still sounding a bit off.

Louis frowns. "Are you alright?"

Harry huffs a breath and manages half a nervous chuckles. "Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but do you remember that maybe-ex from Friday?"

"Yeah?" Louis says, wondering where this is going. From Harry's tone Louis guesses he hasn't professed his undying devotion since then.

"He's here. At the gallery. Where I work. Ostensibly for work, but he always sends someone for this sort of thing. And he's never just come to visit before either! And he asked about you!"

"What did you tell him?" Louis asks.

"The truth, more or less. I bumped into you, we started talking, you're a laugh."

"And he seemed jealous?"

"So jealous!" Harry confirms. "But then he asked if we were seeing each other and I said no and he just wandered off."

Louis rolls his eyes. That guy clearly doesn't appreciate what he's gambling away. Sure, Louis hasn't spent much more than two hours with Harry, but he seemed lovely, and he's right fit.

"So you called me?" That's the part Louis can't quite work out yet. It's not like Louis can really do anything over the phone. It's not like he really knows the two of them either!

"I... yeah. Sorry. I didn't know what to do, and I guess, since you were there..."

"It's alright. Hey, tell you what, I'm only two stops over from your gallery. I'll come pick you up for lunch, leave him to draw his own conclusions, yeah?"

"Really?" Harry asks. "You don't have to do that for me. I'm not even entirely sure why I called you..."

"I like your company, Harry. It's not a chore. And I was on my way to get lunch anyway," Louis says.

"Well, alright then. I could eat," Harry says. "I'm right by the entrance, so you can't really miss me."

Nevertheless Louis does almost miss Harry, not immediately spotting him behind the gaggle of teenage girls whose skirts are barely long enough to deserve the term, bags discarded at their feet, or slung over tiny shoulders. At least one of them is leaning forward onto the counter behind which Harry seems to be hiding, and Louis guesses there's a bit more underage lacy bra on show than Harry feels comfortable with. Louis sincerely hopes his sisters never run into the creep who'd take them up on this kind of flirtation.

Harry looks up from his admirers when he hears Louis approaching, relief and a plea to be saved spelled out equally on his handsome face.

Louis grins and waves cheerfully at him in return. Two of the girls have turned to see what's pulling Harry's attention away and are now scowling at Louis. The amount of people Louis's making jealous today simply by being in Harry's company just keeps rising. Amazing.

"Hey, Lou," Harry greets, pointedly ignoring the question one of the girls just asked him about the early 20th century Russian photographer on show.

Nicknames, eh. Louis can play that game. He steps around the girls and the counter to wrap an arm around Harry's waist.

"Hey, H. Ready for lunch?"

"Yeah, hang on," Harry says, raising an arm to wave to the girl over behind the café counter. She grins and waves him off, laughing when he throws her kisses with both hands.

"Jade over there will take over for me now, so if you still have any questions, feel free to ask her," Harry addresses the girls, grabbing his phone from the counter and pushing it into the pocket of a sinfully tight pair of jeans. Apparently that's the sort of thing Harry wears on a day to day basis, not just when he's going out.

"Shall we?" Harry then turns to Louis, throwing his arm over Louis' shoulders the same way he did at that pub.

"Absolutely," Louis says, waving at the girls and letting Harry steer him towards the exit. "What are you in the mood for? My cravings are all over the place today."

"There's a place that makes amazing sandwiches down the street," Harry suggests.

"Great! Sandwiches are among my cravings," Louis says with a grin.

Harry smiles back. "Great minds and all that."

"Not sure our minds have a lot to do with that."

"More than you know," Harry says, tapping the side of his nose.

Louis rolls his eyes at him, but still smiles. "Okay, Freud."

"Yes, how is your relationship with your mother?" Harry asks, teasing tone to his voice.

Louis groans. He phoned his mother on Saturday, in a significantly better mood than Friday night and thankfully not hung over, but insisted (several times) that she keep her end of the bargain and refrain from setting him up on anymore blind dates. It took a while and a lot of promises from Louis about starting to look for someone himself that he has no intention of keeping, but eventually she agreed.

"Food first. I love my mum, but I cannot discuss her unfortunate obsession with my love life on an empty stomach," Louis says.

Harry laughs but accepts it, not pushing further. Instead, he launches into a play-by-play recount of his encounter with teenage infatuation.

Louis can't work out if he knows he's going off on unnecessary tangents or not, because everything about Harry seems so genuine, but there's a smirk sitting in the corner of his mouth that makes Louis suspect he might be made fun off right now. How else could it take anyone ten full minutes to tell a story that basically boils down to "I thought there'd be less hormonal sixth formers given summer hols, but guess what? Art summer camps/workshops/whathaveyous are a thing."?

"Moulding young minds doesn't go on summer hols, Harry," Louis says as they sit down at a table outside in the small backyard of the bistro. Louis didn't pay much attention to the decor inside, but there are little jars with colourful field flowers on the tables outside, the cushions on the chairs are white with dark green stripes and all in all it looks like a perfectly normal, slightly hipster café. Louis automatically files it away as the kind of place Harry apparently enjoys. (It is, truth be told, also the kind of place Louis enjoys every now and then.)

"Of course not. How could I suggest such an atrocity?" Harry says, now definitely mocking, as he sprawls in his chair. He's got his legs stretched diagonally under the small table, booted feet sticking out to Louis' side, so he won't take up any of Louis' legroom.

"Clearly you're not very concerned with the future of our great nation," Louis says, idly leafing through the menu, only looking up to grin at Harry shortly and see the mirth dancing in his eyes.

"No, no, of course not," he says. "You know us artsy types. Anarchy and moral decay and all that."

"Clearly, yes. Your ratty boots should have clued me in," Louis says, looking down at Harry's feet pointedly. "l don't know how you fooled me."

Harry nods wisely, serious expression on his face. "It's the dimples."

He flashes them at Louis in a grin so sudden, bright, and boyish it makes Louis laugh.

"I'll have to be careful in the future," he says and makes a show of putting on his sunglasses.

"Probably for the best," Harry agrees.

They're saved from having to transition into an actual conversation by the appearance of a waiter, who sets down a jug of water and two glasses for them before taking their order.

"So, what do you do to ensure the future of England's a bright one during summer hols?" Harry asks then.

"I'm putting on a play with a group of fifteen six-to-eight-year-olds. We're doing Little Red Riding Hood," Louis says, pouring them both some water.

"How do you cast fifteen kids in Little Red Riding Hood?" Harry asks.

"You need a lot of trees to make a forest, Harold."

Harry laughs, throwing his head back again the way he did at the pub. Easily amused, it seems.

"Don't they get jealous of Little Red and such?"

"Nah. It's an animate forest. They get a little dance and everything," Louis says. "Plus, a lot of the kids are freaked out a bit by having to remember and recite things. We're just trying to make it fun for them."

"That's nice. I was a sheep in a nativity play once and got so nervous about it I baa-ed in the wrong place. It was mortifying," Harry says.

Louis allows himself a laugh. "Not an on-stage person?"

"I kinda love it, actually," Harry says, with a shrug and a chagrined smile. "I just get really bad stage fright sometimes."

Louis pulls a sympathetic grimace. He's never had stage fright much; the stage has always been exciting to him. It's the feeling he wants to give his kids as well - be they his regular sixth formers or the little ones over the summer.

"Maybe you just need someone up on stage with you, for moral support and all," Louis suggests.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry says and then uses the gap in their conversation to take a sip of water.

"So do you send your sixth formers on excursions during the holidays then, while you’re putting on plays with primary schoolers?" Harry asks when he's set his glass back down.

Louis shakes his head, swallowing his own sip of water. There are cucumber and lemon slices swimming in the jug, which Louis used to think was pretentious and pointless until Lottie started doing it and sort of got him hooked on it.

"Term's been over for two weeks! I don’t flatter myself that I have that much influence over what my students do." Louis says with a grin.

Harry squints his eyes at him exaggeratedly. "You're the one moulding young minds. What do I know what kind of tricks you've got up your sleeve."

"We'll it's not psychic control of my students. Definitely not over the holidays," Louis says. "And anyway, I told you I do Drama and English, not Art."

"You're off the hook this time then," Harry says.

Louis pretends to wipe sweat off his brow, affecting relief.

"What about you? How'd you end up with sixth formers fawning over you?"

"I started working in the café when I was still in uni and it just sort of stuck. I like it there and I know the gallery well. And they're being cool about me going back to school in the fall," Harry says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was doing a business course at uni when I started working there so they allowed me to get a bit involved with the planning side of things for events sometimes. Truth be told the course didn't help much, it was mostly common sense and observation. But it's fun and I do most of it for the gallery now, so I want to get an official diploma for it," Harry says.

"That's cool. Business not for you then?"

"Nah, I dropped out. I didn't really know what to do after A-levels and business seemed like a smart choice. Just made me miserable, to be honest," Harry says.

''Good on you for getting out. I mean, you’re still young,” Louis says.

“Twenty-six."

Louis inclines his head in recognition.

“Twenty-eight myself. Twenty-six is plenty young enough. I mean, I started out with PE and Drama at uni but my girlfriend's friend was doing English and it always seemed so much cooler. So I decided fuck what my English teacher said, and that it’ll take me longer if I have to redo stuff, I'm gonna do it anyway," Louis says.

"Your English teacher didn't like you?"

Louis laughs. "Told me I have the literary understanding of a naked mole rat once."

Harry pulls a disbelieving face. "Some people ought not to be allowed to teach."

"My geography teacher told me I'd never amount to anything," Louis says. The sting of it has faded over the years, but Louis agrees. No matter how much of a little shit a student is being, there are things you just shouldn't say to a seventeen-year-old.

"Clearly they had no idea what they're talking about," Harry says, frowning.

Louis shrugs. "I was quite precocious, but yeah, he was a dick."

Harry gives a commiserating shake of his head, but before they can further compare their experiences with the UK's educational system their waiter brings their sandwiches. They're decently sized ciabattas, generously filled and halved for easier consumption.

Louis takes a moment to take in the heavenly scent of freshly toasted Italian bread, garlicky scampi, and arugula. This sandwich definitely smells and looks like he's going to have to thank Harry for introducing him to this place.

On the other side of the table, Harry huffs a content sigh, chewing his first bite of his own lunch.

Louis decides to follow suit, squashing the part at the back of his mind that's a little apprehensive of eating with his fingers in front of someone he hardly knows. There's no dignified way to eat a sandwich as loaded as these are, and judging by the way Harry opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue before each bite, he doesn't care, so why should Louis? Plus, Louis' first impression of Harry was him knocking Louis' pint over and yet here they are three days later, out for lunch and on the way to becoming friends, letting Harry's weird maybe-ex think they're going out.

He grins into his first bite at the absurdity of it, smiling at Harry's quizzically cocked eyebrow. Sometimes adult life is endlessly weirder than he could have ever expected it to be.

They finish off their first half each rather quickly and in mutual silence. It always makes Louis think of how his mum used to tell him that you can tell the food is good when conversation is sparse.

"Is that avocado?" Harry asks, nose wrinkled, as Louis sucks avocado pesto off his finger.

"Yup."

"Avocado ruins so many great sandwiches."

"Really? You've got your mango-something smoothie and your grilled veg sandwich but you draw the line at avocado?" Louis asks, equally amused and disbelieving.

"Mango-strawberry," Harry says. "I don't like avocado. It tastes like nothing."

Louis swipes a blob of pesto from his plate and sucks it off his finger with exaggerated gusto. "Your loss."

Harry rolls his eyes. "You like it though?"

"The sandwich?" Louis asks, following Harry's eyes down to it. "Delicious. I'll have to come here all the time."

"Good," Harry says, smiling to himself as he goes back to his own sandwich.

For all that Harry seems quite relaxed about most things, he's a fast eater. Louis still has half of his second half left by the time Harry's finished everything off.

"So," Harry says, his businesslike tone making Louis quirk an eyebrow. "Now that you're having food - what's the deal with your mum then?"

Louis deflates a little and takes the time to swallow and mull over his answer. "She means well but doesn't realise I don't appreciate her meddling."

"Mothers tend to do that," Harry agrees, nodding a little.

"She's sent me on seven blind dates over the last ten weeks," Louis says. "Three of which were really, really bad, and the other four were intensely awkward. I've never met people I was less compatible with, to be honest."

"Why don't you just ask her to stop?"

"I have. Repeatedly."

"Oh. Not cool," Harry says.

"No," Louis agrees with a sigh. "But she's my mum and l don't like fighting with her."

Harry grimaces and nods his agreement.

"I know she’s just worried, cause I’ve only had serious long term relationships until now, but I’m not bothered by being single for a bit. I went from one relationship to the next really quickly last time and I’m kind of enjoying not doing that this time. I mean, it's not even been a year yet! I wouldn’t mind if it happened, but I’m not seeking it out,” Louis says.

Harry only nods along.

“Well, she promised to leave it be now, so I guess I'll just see how long she lasts," Louis says.

Harry grins and finishes off his smoothie-juice-thing. “Here’s to hoping.”

"Anyway, what's the deal with you and Teddy Bear?" Louis asks, returning to his food.

Harry sighs and runs a hand over his hair, squeezing at the bun.

"I thought we were getting serious. Apparently he didn't think so."

Louis waits for a moment, but Harry doesn't elaborate.

"Really? That's all you're giving me?" Louis asks.

Harry rolls his eyes but then smiles after a moment's hesitation and affects a nonchalant shrug. Given that Louis' here pretending to be taking Harry out on a lunch date to make the guy jealous, Louis doesn't know why Harry's trying to pretend he doesn't really care.

"We met about five months ago. He's the friend of a friend of an acquaintance and it was just easy with him. He's almost ten years older than I am but it never felt like that. Or at least it never felt important. He never treated me like it," Harry says.

Louis doesn't really understand the appeal of being with someone that much older, but the wary look on Harry's face tells him he's heard that particular criticism one time too often, so Louis holds his tongue and only nods to encourage Harry to go on.

"Anyway, I haven't really done the whole seriously committed thing before, you know? I've never dated someone and thought l really wanted it to go somewhere, but when Ben brought up how he's at that point in his life where he needs to think about what it is he really wants and all I just thought 'yeah, okay',” Harry says, grimacing a bit. “I thought he was maybe easing me into the whole commitment thing, but then instead he became withdrawn and evasive. Only every time he sees me with someone else he's all jealous and I just really don't know what he wants from me anymore."

Harry leans back in his chair and runs his hand over his hair again, opening up the bun and fluffing his hair up before he twists it back into a bun this time.

Louis lets his eyebrows take their disbelieving hike up his forehead. That’s... really not very mature behaviour, especially given that Ben is a decade older than them and supposedly thinking about ‘what he really wants in his life’ and all.

“I know I don’t know you well, and it’s probably not my place and all, but... you do get that that’s really a dick move, right? Messing you around like that?” Louis says.

Harry’s face hardens a bit, but one of his eyebrows does an acknowledging twitch and then he sighs.

“Yeah. I know it’s not really how things are supposed to be, but I...”

There might be a flush on his cheeks and his eyes skitter over their surroundings.

“I won’t tell you what to do, I’m just wondering why you seem to want him back when he’s...?” Louis waves a hand about in a vague gesture, not wanting to get any more descriptive about what he thinks Ben is.

“Three weeks ago I was ready to move in together, basically. I just... I just want to know what’s going on, really,” Harry says.

“I assume you have tried talking to him?” Louis jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry frowns. “I have. He doesn’t pick up when I call and when I text he just ignores that I want to talk to him. Pretty much the only reactions I get from him are in person and they’re either flirting with no follow through or jealousy if I so much as look at another guy.”

Louis’ eyebrows may be disappearing into his hairline. It could happen.

“So you’re basically trying to provoke a reaction out of him so he’ll have to talk to you and explain himself?”

“Yeah. I’m just trying to figure out if he’s worth trying to get through whatever it is that’s happening. I mean, what if he’s in trouble and he doesn’t know how to ask for help? Or what if he’s ill?” Harry says.

Louis feels his cheeks twitch in a smile.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll help.”

“Help?” Harry asks.

“I’ll pretend to be your new boyfriend,” Louis says and then wrinkles his nose. That seems a bit over the top. “Guy you’ve seen more than once and want to see again? Your beau.”

That last one does, at least, get Harry to smile at him.

“If you want,” Louis adds.

Harry pulls at his lip with his thumb and pointer finger while he stares at Louis as if he’s trying to figure him out.

“What’s in it for you?” he asks.

Louis shrugs. “I like you, and I think Ben is a wanker and needs to behave like an adult. You deserve answers and closure at the very least. If he refuses to talk to you, then there’s no choice but to make him talk, is there?”

Harry takes a few moments to mull it over and then grins. “Okay. Thanks. And next time your mum tries to set you up with someone you can tell her you’ve found yourself a new beau.”

Louis laughs. “I just might if she doesn’t stop!”

“It seems some people don’t like dealing with things via words,” Harry says, tone half bitter, half teasing.

Louis smiles sympathetically. If it were Louis, he’d show up at Ben’s door and demand to be spoken to, or leave him a voicemail telling him exactly what he thinks of being treated like some sort of toy you can shelf whenever you feel like it, but he gets the feeling that’s not how Harry does things. And fair enough, everyone’s got their own way of dealing with conflict.

Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket then and shifts his legs back to his own side of the table. Louis automatically sits up straighter in response.

“My lunch break’s over soon. I should head back,” Harry says.

Louis nods. “Okay, that’s fine. Thanks for showing me this place; it’s great.”

“Thanks for showing up when I freaked out at you over the phone,” Harry grins.

Louis laughs and flags down the waiter when he catches his eye across the courtyard, pulling his wallet out of his jeans and requesting their meals to be put on one check.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Harry says, but doesn’t try to fight Louis on it and just puts his own wallet back in his pocket. “If anything, I should be paying.”

“Well, I am supposed to be taking you out on a lunch date,” Louis grins. “You can just pay next time.”

“Alright,” Harry concedes, fiddling with something on his phone while Louis settles their bill once the waiter returns.

“So how do you want to do this?” Louis asks, once they’re back on the street and walking back towards Harry’s gallery.

“How do you mean?”

“How often do you want to do this pretend date thing? I mean, you can’t just tell him you’re with me, since he’s not talking to you, so you need to tell other people who’ll tell him. But to do that you’ll probably have to actually be seen with me, right? I mean, your colleague, Jade? Is she a friend? She’d notice if I came to pick you up for one surprise lunch date and then never showed my face again.” Louis says.

Harry’s lips curl in amused surprise.

“Have you done this before or are you this superspy about everything?” he asks.

Louis laughs. “Nah. Just put together too many lesson plans or read too many plays, probably.”

“You’re right though. Jade’s a friend and Zayn, who curates the exhibitions, is one of my best friends actually. They’d notice if I was faking it entirely.”

“You could always tell them,” Louis says.

Harry shrugs. “Yeah. Suppose I probably will. They’ll play along, I think. They’re not, um, super fond of Ben recently...”

“Can’t imagine why,” Louis teases, poking Harry in the side.

Harry smiles at him, but it’s a little shaky.

“So I guess we’ll just wing it?” he suggests.

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, okay. Probably best.”

“Okay,” Harry says.

Louis spends the rest of their short walk back regaling Harry with stories about his Little Actors and the shenanigans they get up to while he and his colleague Emily try to wrangle them into something resembling order. It gets Harry smiling properly again and Louis decides not to dwell on why he’s trying extra hard to make that happen. Harry’s going to be a good friend, he can already tell. He’s allowed to want him to be happy.

Harry holds the door open for him once they’re back at the gallery and Louis’ about to make a quip about it when a third person steps up to them, pulling focus.

“Harry,” Ben says pleasantly. “There you are. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

“Oh. I was just out to lunch with...” he says, gesturing to Louis and faltering a bit.

“Louis,” Louis introduces himself, holding out a hand for Ben to shake.

“I’m Ben,” Ben replies, eyes sharp on Louis, probably looking for signs that the name means anything to Louis. Louis schools his face into a pleasant, but blank mask.

Ben drops Louis’ hand and turns back to Harry. “Well, I must be off. Tom and I came to an agreement though, so you’ll probably be seeing me around.”

“Alright,” Harry says, but before he can say anything else, Ben puts a hand on his waist and leans forward to give him a customary kiss on the cheek in greeting. Harry automatically moves to meet him, only it’s not a cheek-air kiss goodbye; Ben plants his lips right at the edge of Harry’s mouth. This can’t be mistaken as anything but a kiss people who are intimately acquainted with each other use to say goodbye.

Louis’ quite glad for his solid poker face when Ben steps back from Harry and nods at Louis in greeting before vanishing out the door.

Harry and he stay frozen in their spots for a heartbeat or two, before their eyes meet and they come out of the daze.

“That was...” Harry says, searching for words, eyebrows furrowed.

“Really inappropriate?” Louis suggests.

Harry shrugs. “Weird, is what I was going to say. But, yeah.”

“Well, he’s definitely jealous. Kissing you like that right in front of me,” Louis says. He might as well have peed on you, he doesn’t say.

Harry visibly hesitates but then sighs. His face is doing a thing like he’s not sure whether he’s happy about that or not. Louis can relate – or rather, he can’t and is deeply glad for it. At least his breakups were always clean and amicable. He’s still facebook friends with all of his exes.

“Yeah,” Harry merely says and then straightens back up, making for the counter.

“Well, I work on Little Red on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so if you need another emergency lunch date, you know how to reach me,” Louis says, following behind him.

“What if I need a date on a Tuesday or a Thursday?” Harry teases, glancing over his shoulder.

Louis heaves a heavy sigh and shrugs exaggeratedly. “Well, I can’t help you then. I’m already booked solid on those days.”

“Shame,” Harry comments. “I was so looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid I’ve got a previous engagement, dear Harold.”

“We’ve only just met and you’re already stepping out on me? You work fast,” Harry says, sidling behind the counter, where Jade is currently ringing up an elderly lady’s purchase of what seems to be a book of early sixties pop culture photography.

“Who says you’re not the one I’m stepping out with?” Louis grins.

“In that case I’m honoured I get three available days.”

“As you should be.”

Harry grins at him and pulls his phone out of his pocket, slipping it back into the spot under the counter Louis had seen him take it from earlier.

“I’ll see you around then?” Louis asks coyly, teasing a bit.

Harry grins and shrugs a shoulder just as coyly. “Maybe.”

Louis laughs. “Well, thanks for lunch.”

“Thank you,” Harry says.

“Anytime,” Louis shrugs. It’s not like spending time with Harry is a hardship.

Harry rolls his eyes at Louis a bit, but he’s still smiling. Louis lifts a hand in an awkward wave, and takes a step back. There’s no use fumbling through some sort of awkward kiss situation when Harry’s just going to tell Jade about their arrangement anyway.

“Right. You know how to reach me,” he says.

“Yup.”

“Well. Bye, then.”

“Goodbye, Louis,” Harry says with that amused curl to his lips again.

Louis looks over at Jade and gives her a smile and a nod in greeting before he turns around to leave. He’s not going to stay long enough for them to end up in a sort of ‘no you hang up first’ situation. There’s a limit to how ridiculous Louis thinks a day should get and this day has probably already reached its quota, what with the fake date and all.

Niall and Liam are definitely going to think it’s insane when he tells them.

“Come again?” Liam asks, hand slack around his beer where it’s hovering before his face, having meant to take a pull from it when Louis started telling his story.

Niall meanwhile is laughing, head thrown back in amusement.

Louis sighs and runs a hand over his face, his own cold bottle of beer sweating away in his other.

They’re in Niall’s backyard, as he’s the only one who has a place that has a backyard, meat sizzling on the grill in one of their usual summer barbecues and Louis just told them about Harry and their fake date arrangement. Harry hasn’t called him again since Monday, but it’s only Thursday and they’ve been texting back and forth a bit.

“Harry – the bloke I was chatting to at the pub last Friday – has a weird maybe-ex who can’t seem to behave like a proper adult, so we’re goading him into a reaction by pretending we’re seeing each other,” Louis says, trying for patient.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Liam asks, scepticism all over his face.

“I doubt it’s going to do any harm,” Louis says with a shrug. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Unless Harry’s right and his boyfriend’s really just struggling with something and thinks Harry’s response to that is to find himself a new boyfriend,” Liam says.

Louis’ eyes narrow.

“It’s not Harry’s response to his boyfriend struggling. It’s Harry’s response to his boyfriend being an evasive bastard who ignores all forms of communication unless Harry’s flirting with someone else,” he says. “We’re not looking to hurt anyone.”

“You might end up doing it anyway,” Liam points out.

Louis sighs and takes a moment to mull it over. It’s true, of course. This Ben character could be hurt by the charade, but isn’t it sort of a self-made pain if he has ignored weeks’ worth of Harry trying to contact him? To talk to him? Louis is more worried this charade might somehow end up hurting Harry, if he’s honest. If his maybe-ex decides now that Harry has seemingly moved on he can just drop off the face of the Earth entirely, it’ll accomplish the exact opposite of what they’re trying to do, after all.

“Harry’s already hurting,” Louis says. “And there’s always a little risk in every human interaction.”

Liam lifts a mocking eyebrow. They all know that wasn’t Liam’s point, but he lets it go.

“I for one think it’s hilarious,” Niall chimes in. “And that Ben character sounds like a right prick.”

“He does,” Liam agrees, as if to soften his earlier criticism.

Louis lifts his bottle of beer in a silent salute and takes a long pull from it, relishing the coldness of it in the truly stifling heat. He’s fairly certain whatever the temperature is, it shouldn’t happen in England. Not even in July. Whatever happened to unusually chilly?

“Never a dull moment with you, Tommo,” Niall comments idly, before getting up to see to the meat on the grill.

“Yeah. You really don’t have to take the drama part of your job quite so seriously, you know?” Liam teases.

Louis balls up a napkin and throws it at him.

“I can’t help it. He literally bumped into me. What was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t need to give him your number. Or go for lunch. Or offer to be his fake boyfriend,” Niall points out. Niall has an annoying tendency to point out facts and insinuate a conclusion that makes Louis feel a bit like an idiot.

“And yet you’re the one always telling me I need to make more friends,” Louis teases back instead of giving any sort of real answer.

“You have two friends! Two! Where did social butterfly Tommo go? It’s like Keith took all your friends in the divorce,” Niall says.

“He did,” Louis shrugs. He does somewhat regret becoming one of those couples who only had shared friends sometimes, but in his defence, some of them were Louis’ friends first. He couldn’t exactly predict he’d fall out of contact with them once he broke up with his boyfriend. It’s not even like he moved away! He moved to London with Keith.

“Well, you’ve still got me,” Niall grins, cheersing at Louis with his bottle of beer. “And Payno too, now.”

Louis grins back at them both. It’s a sign of age, maybe, but most days he feels like he doesn’t need a large social circle. It’s not that Louis doesn’t like being around lots of people, because he does. But truth of the matter is that there are always just a handful of people you’re closest to. These days Louis’ extended friends are mostly work friends or friends of friends but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have best friends. He has Niall and Liam with him in London, and family and best childhood friends back home in Doncaster. Louis’s not lonely and he’s definitely not alone. People need to stop worrying about his social life so much, given that Louis himself is quite pleased with it.

“All I need,” he says, earning him a two part harmony of ‘aw’s.

“Has your mum called about another date, by the way?” Liam asks then.

“No, surprisingly she hasn’t. We talked yesterday and she never once brought it up,” Louis says. He was apprehensive all through that phone call, but his mum had stood by her word and made no mention of Louis’ dating life or setting him up with someone else’s kid. Louis never knew so many of her friends and colleagues have kids his age for him to be set up with.

“You think it’ll last?” Niall asks over his shoulder, plating steaks.

“Maybe,” Louis shrugs. “I’m determined to just enjoy it while it does.”

“Maybe she’s finally understood she shouldn’t meddle. That last guy was a real prick,” Liam says.

Niall gives a none too delicate snort. “That’s one way to put it. He should be lucky you only left him with the bill and didn’t dump your drink on his head or something.”

“Way too cliché,” Louis says, but he can’t help the grin as he imagines having done just that. If he’d had any wine left he probably would’ve considered it at the time as well.

“Oh, yes, far more classy to storm out of a restaurant.”

“I did not storm. I walked away in a dignified manner.”

“I’m sure you did,” Niall grins and hands Louis one of the plates. Louis glares at him playfully.

“Enough about me. What’s going on with you lot?”

“Not much,” Liam says. “Sophia and I are going to go see her parents in a few weeks’ time.”

“I’m going to be playing guitar for The X-Factor,” Niall says.

“You what?!” Liam asks, excitedly.

Louis throws his hands up and cheers.

“You got it!”

“I did!”

They both jump up from their chairs and grab each other in a hug, Liam winding his arms around both of them.

“Why did you let me go on about my pretend boyfriend for so long? This is way bigger news!”

Niall only laughs, arm tightening around Louis. “Cause your life’s so amusing. Where else am I gonna get my entertainment?”

“Right,” Louis says with an amused snort, squeezing Niall back.

“Well done, Nialler,” Liam says, patting him on the back heavily in a very dad like gesture.

“Thanks,” Niall grins and slowly extricates himself from Louis as well.

“Proud of you, little Irishman,” Louis says, more quietly. Niall beams at him in response.

“Now. More beer! We’ve got something to celebrate!” Louis announces and goes to fetch them another around of beer from the fridge inside.

“Bring the potato salad!” Niall calls after him.

“Anything for the rock star!” Louis calls back and grins to himself at Niall’s bright cackle.

Tuesday midday finds Louis lounging around his flat, idly leafing through his copy of The Importance of Being Earnest for the umpteenth time. He started out actually reading it, but by now he’s mostly grinning nostalgically at all his annotations. When his phone trills with a text, he reaches over for it blindly, making sure to keep his place in the play with the other hand before he looks to see who’s texting him.

It’s Harry.

‘Ben was just here. Asked after you and made sure to tell me he’d be back Friday?? Plan seems to be working!’

Louis grins brightly, typing out a response quickly.

‘Yay! Fingers crossed for Friday!’

Harry sends back three salsa lady emojis.

On Friday Louis is definitely not at all distracted during his morning practice with his Little Actors. Harry’s Ben situation might be at the back of his mind, but that doesn’t mean he’s not 100% focussed on the kids in his charge. If he were, he wouldn’t have caught Mina where she tripped and saved her a scraped knee, would he?

So. Louis is definitely not distracted.

And definitely not checking his phone for texts any chance he gets.

By the time Harry’s text does come, it’s already early afternoon and Louis has almost made it home after a lunch with Liam, who does his acrobatics summer school thing in the gym at the same time Louis has his Little Actors to look after. Louis makes himself wait until he’s actually back at his flat, stretched out on the sofa with a cool glass of water, in an attempt to regain some of his chill. He’s met Harry all of twice and though they do text occasionally, there’s really no reason for Louis to be this invested in Harry’s love life, despite the role he plays in it.

Maybe he gets it from his mum. Oh god, maybe overinvestment in other people’s love lives is genetic and Louis is doomed to start setting his friends up any day now.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Louis pulls his phone out of his bag and then taps over to the messaging app.

‘We chatted and I said we should catch up, go to lunch, talk about some things and he said yes maybe tomorrow and he’ll let me know. Then had to leave. Progress!’

‘Had to leave’. Or made another excuse.

Louis frowns at his phone.

He brings his thumb up to his mouth and nibbles on the pad of it a little, contemplating what to send back. Harry does know Ben better than Louis does (given that Louis doesn’t know him at all, aside from his tendency to get jealous over Harry around good-looking men), and it is progress that he agreed to meet with Harry and talk to him. Louis doesn’t want to rain on Harry’s parade, so he sends back a thumbs up emoji and a big smiley one, and hopes that Harry is right in his hopes.

Louis spends Saturday jamming and chilling with Niall and the evening planning costumes for the kids’ play, trying to work out what he can ask the program to provide and what he can ask parents to bring while still turning six kids into trees, four into flowers, and somehow managing to come up with costumes that at least allude to Little Red, her mother (since Thomas insists on being her mother and wearing a dress), the grandmother, the wolf and the huntsman. He’s plenty distracted, so the fact that the entire day passes without word from Harry doesn’t really register with him until he’s crawling into bed that night, texting Lottie about the new barista in her favourite coffee shop whose number she doesn’t dare ask for (who is definitely gorgeous, even if he’s too young for Louis to ever consider, what with his being even younger than Lottie herself).

‘Put on that red and white gingham dress for work on Monday and just go for it!’ he texted five minutes ago. Lottie has started to type an answer three times by now, but she’s still agonising over what to say, apparently. It’s while he’s staring at those three little dots show up for the fourth time, hoping she’ll have made up her mind this time, that he realises Harry never said how his lunch with Ben went.

‘I can’t just do that!’ Lottie sends.

Louis rolls his eyes. That took her five minutes? Really?

‘Of course you can! You’re a Tomlinson, you’re hot shit!’ Louis sends and then quickly pulls up the message feed he shares with Harry.

The last one there is his own thumbs up and smiley. Louis scowls at it.

‘How did lunch go?’ he sends.

‘Aren’t you supposed to tell me to stay away from boys and all, big bro?!’ Lottie’s reply reads.

‘I’m bi. I know that girls are just as bad as boys. And you’re twenty-two! Go make some mistakes! Just use protection!’

‘I’m not looking to shag him!’

Louis grins at his sister’s outrage. ‘Why not? He’s cute. If he weren’t a toddler, I would.’

‘You’re impossible. I’m going to bed.’

‘Wear the dress!’ Louis sends, instead of a goodnight. Lottie replies with the salsa lady, which Louis figures means she will, or that she’ll at least think about it.

Harry hasn’t texted back yet, but it’s already past eleven and Louis feels exhausted enough to go to sleep, so he puts his phone on the bedside table, and turns off the light. He’s sure Harry’ll let him know what’s up soon.

When Louis wakes up there’s still no news from Harry, and the prompting question mark Louis sends him goes unanswered as well. It takes until the evening for Harry to text back and then it’s just a string of sad faces and ‘he hasn’t called’. Louis glares at his phone, imagining Harry wait for a call until the very last minute. He guesses that’s why he didn’t text Louis back sooner, so Ben would still have a chance to at least almost stick to his word.

Louis’s not really sure what to reply, so he sends a commiserating string of sad faces and a cocktail glass, hoping it’ll cheer Harry up somewhat. Harry doesn’t reply, so he’s not sure it did, but Louis doesn’t want to push. Their friendship isn’t at the level where Louis’d go pick up Harry’s favourite food and they’d spend a few hours watching their favourite movies. Louis doesn’t even know Harry’s favourite food. Or movie.

On Monday, while Louis is trying to get his flowers to remember to hold hands in a circle and walk to the left for the first part of their song, Lottie texts him a picture of a coffee receipt with a string of numbers and the name Charlie scrawled at the bottom. Louis grins and tells the kids to take a quick break before he texts back.

‘Did you wear the dress?’

‘You’re so very gay sometimes,’ Lottie sends and then, ‘I did. ’

‘Don’t doubt that dress, sister dearest. It’s your freakum dress. But sfw,’ Louis writes back.

“Mr. Louis?” Amanda, who can’t seem to bring herself to call him only Louis, says, pulling at his sleeve. She’s got Pippa hovering behind her.

“Yes?” Louis asks, putting his phone away and turning to smile down at her.

“Can Pippa and I trade places? She doesn’t want to be a flower.”

“Oh! Don’t you like being a flower?” Louis asks, frowning with slightly exaggerated concern.

Pippa shakes her head.

“Why not?” Louis asks.

“Trees are bigger. I want to be really big,” Pippa says.

Louis tamps down on the laugh that wants to burst out of him. “Well. That’s a good point, of course.”

“I know the flower dance already, Mr. Louis. I can do it,” Amanda says.

Amanda has no ear for melodies at all, at least not yet, but she does learn choreographies remarkably easily and there are still two weeks of practice left. Anyway, it’s a play put on by primary school children. Louis hardly needs a BAFTA worthy performance.

“Well, alright then. You two can switch,” he says, mentally crossing his fingers and sending a quick prayer to the patron saint of theatre – if there is such a thing – that they won’t start a trend.

Amanda and Pippa both beam at him brightly and by the end of the practice he has only had to switch three more kids. He can work with three flowers and seven trees. It’ll be a dense forest, but that’s alright. It’s not like Louis doesn’t have contingency plans for this kind of situation. It’s his fifth summer doing this, after all.

Louis waves goodbye to Liam, who stays to help with the kids that stay with them for lunch, and pulls his phone out of his bag purely by habit as he steps out onto the street. There aren’t any new texts, but just as he’s about to put it back, it starts ringing, Harry’s name on the screen. It still says ‘Harry the pint spiller’ and though it keeps reminding Louis that he doesn’t even know Harry’s last name, he’s grown attached to the contact name and doesn’t think he’ll change it even when he does finally remember to ask Harry for his last name.

Louis swipes his thumb over the screen to pick up the call and brings it up to his ear with a smile.

“Hi,” he says. “What’s your last name?”

“Styles,” Harry answers automatically, before his voice takes on a bit of an edge as he goes on, “Louis, Ben’s here. He ignored me all weekend and now he’s here. What do I do?”

Louis frowns and picks up his pace on the way to the tube station.

“Did he just get there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m coming to pick you up for lunch and we’re going to be disgustingly into each other. Then either he’ll get his head out of his arse, or you’ll have to show up at his doorstep and make him talk to you or something,” Louis says.

Harry heaves a deep sigh. “Okay.”

“Okay. I’m just getting down to the tube, so I’ll have to hang up, but I’ll be there in ten minutes, max, yeah?”

"Yeah. Thank you,” Harry says, sounding a bit small.

“No problem. It’s what fake boyfriends are for. Besides, there’s a parma ham sandwich at that place we went to last time I’ve been meaning to try.”

Harry chuckles a bit. “It’s on me this time, though.”

“You won’t hear me complain about free lunch, H,” Louis grins, swiping his oyster card. “Right. I’ll be right there.”

“See you in a bit,” Harry says and hangs up.

Louis plugs in his headphones, because he can’t stand waiting without music, and rushes his way to the platform. The next train’s supposed to be there in two minutes, and Louis spends both of them trying very hard not to tap his foot impatiently. It’s not even the duration of one song, but it stretches like an eternity.

He lets everyone else get onto the train first, isn’t polite about the way he hovers by the door because he wants to get off as quickly as he can at his stop. He figures he’s only staying on the train for two stops anyway. People can deal with it.

As soon as the doors open at his stop he’s off the train like a shot, weaving through the crowd with mumbled ‘sorry’s and elbowing more than one person in the side, probably. He vows not to scowl too heavily at the rushing person the next time this is done to him, but knows it’s probably a vow taken in vain. It’s always a lot easier to see the other side when you’re on it, and to forget about it as soon as you’re not.

He makes it to Harry’s gallery in just over ten minutes though, carding his fingers through his hair in an attempt at making it resemble something other than a bird’s nest, but then gives up when he notices Jade watching him through the glass door. Probably he should have done that with some reflective surface that wasn’t the gallery’s front. He waves cheerily at her and pulls open the door, his heart still beating a little too quickly from how he rushed over.

Jade inclines her head towards the counter Harry’s usually stood behind and Louis follows her line of sight, seeing Ben lean against the other side of the counter, talking to Harry. It seems quite intimate and for a moment Louis’s not sure he should disturb them.

But then he draws closer and sees the slight frown on Harry’s face and how Ben seems to cut him off every time he goes to say something and looks back over at Jade. She catches his eyes and rolls her own at him before subtly miming a gagging motion. Louis takes it as a go-ahead, steels himself and pastes on a wide smile before striding forward.

He ignores Ben and rounds the counter, pushing up underneath Harry’s arm and slotting into his side like he’s done it enough times to be comfortable there, ignoring the way his throat closes with nerves, because he can’t be sure Harry won’t startle too much and give it all away.

“Hey, Hazza,” he says, grinning up at him. He might exaggerate how much he has to look up at Harry a little bit, but it wouldn’t be the first time Louis shifted his weight onto one foot and cocked his hip so he could give a guy the feeling of being taller than him to get him to do what Louis wants. And since Ben seems to be doing everything he can to remind Harry how much bigger than him he is, Louis figures he’s best served by giving the illusion that Harry’s just as into the opposite – be it true or not.

“Hi Louis,” Harry says, surprise evident in his voice, but drapes his arm around Louis’ shoulders like it’s not a big deal.

Louis suppresses a sigh of relief and continues beaming up at Harry instead.

“Ready for lunch, babe?” Louis says, adding the endearment casually enough that it could mean nothing at all if it weren’t for the way he wound himself around Harry just then.

Ben clears his throat, clearly not appreciating being ignored. Good, Louis thinks. Let him get a taste of it.

“You’re going out for lunch again?” Ben asks, eyes focussed only on Harry.

Louis decides to answer for him anyway. “Yeah! Harry introduced me to this fantastic sandwich place just around the corner, so I’ve been dragging him out every chance I get. The food’s really amazing there. You should try it some time.”

The underlying message is clear: Not this time. Not with us.

Ben turns to him, trying to smooth his scowl into a passively polite mask, but ultimately doesn’t succeed entirely. Louis only hopes he’s more successful at hiding his own triumphant expression.

“I know it,” Ben says, a little icily.

Louis can feel Harry stiffen next to him at Ben’s tone, so he decides to throw Ben a bone.

“Anyway, I missed you over the weekend, so I thought I’d come surprise you,” Louis turns to Harry to say, leaving the implication that he doesn’t know what Harry’s been up to over the weekend hanging between the three of them. He doesn’t miss the twitch of Ben’s lips.

Harry finally decides to get with the program and smiles down at Louis, tightening his arm around his shoulders a bit so he’s pulling him a little more firmly into his side.

“Yeah, I was busy,” he says. “But I’m not busy now, so how about I take you out to make up for it?”

Louis bats his eyelashes coyly and lets his smile dim into something sweet.

“Aw,” he says. “You don’t have to do that. But thanks. I’d love to.”

“I’ll tell Jade we’re off then, yeah?” Harry says and then turns away from Louis to Jade, seemingly having forgotten all about Ben right there in front of him.

Louis cheers internally and makes a note not to piss Harry off, if he can avoid it. He suddenly gets the feeling he’d make quite a formidable foe.

Harry waves at Jade and then makes a circling motion above Louis and his heads before walking his fingers towards the door in the air. Jade laughs and nods, making shooing motions at them with her hands. Louis’s not sure how much Harry has actually told her, but either way she seems to be into it.

It’s only then that Harry turns back to Ben.

“Well, I’m off then. Meredith and Sue have my email if anything comes up we’ve not already discussed,” he says, like all they talked about before Louis showed up was business.

Ben seems to be a little taken aback by it.

“Yeah,” he agrees, faltering a little before he puts on a smile. Louis does concede that he’s quite handsome with his mouth like that and his eyes glittering gently. There definitely is something of a teddy bear about him. Not Louis’ thing, but he can see why it would be someone else’s.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll have to come back to talk a few things over with Tom,” Ben says.

Louis can feel every one of Harry’s muscles freeze beside him. He gives him a subtle squeeze in support.

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll be here,” Harry says, nonchalantly enough to probably be convincing.

Ben smiles at him and reaches over the counter to squeeze Harry’s hand, nodding politely at Louis before he leaves.

“Well,” Louis says. “Good luck tomorrow?”

Harry frowns at the door for a moment but then nods and turns to smile at Louis. “Thanks.”

“You still up for lunch? I’m kinda hungry now,” Louis says, stepping away from underneath Harry’s arm gently. The side that’s been pressed up against Harry feels almost cold.

“Of course! I still owe you a sandwich,” Harry says.

Louis laughs. “I already told you I’m not going to stop you buying me food.”

“Well, what are we waiting for, then?” Harry asks and grabs his things before steering Louis out the door.

Harry texts Louis on Wednesday morning that Ben didn’t show up the previous day after all and Louis scowls heavily at his phone. He’s starting to feel bad for his involvement in all this, because it doesn’t seem like Ben has any intention of returning to whatever it was he and Harry had before all this weirdness started. And despite Harry insisting that Ben has always been sweet to him, Louis finds it increasingly hard to believe. How can someone be loving and sweet enough to make someone consider settling down one minute, and then mess them around like this the next?

Louis has flowers to teach a second dance to though, so he only sends back a string of sad faces and then, after a moment’s deliberation, a sandwich and a question mark.

By the time rehearsal is over and he can check his phone for an answer, there’s a text from Harry, a missed call from his mother and a voice mail waiting for him. Harry’s text is a check mark emoji, so Louis starts packing up his things and makes for the tube station while he dials his voice mail to see what sort of message his mother left him. He worries his thumb a bit while he waits through the ringing and the woman telling him which buttons to press to listen to his messages and tries to remind himself that at least one of his sisters would have also tried to contact him if anything bad had happened, no matter whether their mother had already left him a voicemail or not.

“Hi Louis! I’m just calling to say Dan and I will be down in London this weekend and we’d love to see you. We’re having brunch with the Leicesters and their daughter on Saturday; won’t you join us? Call me back when you can. Love you!” his mum’s recorded voice tells him.

Louis hangs up and takes a deep breath, deciding to ignore the message until after lunch with Harry. He’s always more on edge when he’s hungry and as much as he can’t believe that his mother couldn’t even go three weeks without trying to set him up again, he still doesn’t particularly want to yell at her. Especially not on the way to lunch. So instead he plugs in his headphones, turns his music up loud enough to drown out his surroundings and hops down the stairs to the tube.

In the end he lasts until Harry and he have sat down and ordered their lunch – Harry opted to go for the soup of the day this time – before it bursts out of him.

“I can’t believe my mother couldn’t even make it through three weeks before she started trying to set me up again,” he says, scowl heavy on his face. It comes out a bit more forcefully than he’d intended to, he thinks, since Harry blinks a bit in surprise.

“Did she?” he asks.

“She left me a voicemail telling me they’re in London and want to see me and won’t I join their brunch with their friends and their friends’ daughter,” Louis says. “It’s so bloody transparent.”

“Tell her you’re busy,” Harry suggests.

“Too busy to see my mum? That doesn’t sound harsh at all,” Louis says, heaving a heavy sigh and rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. I just need to vent, I think.”

“That’s okay. Feel free to vent. Usually I’m the one with all the drama. It’s good to see I’m not the only one with weird emotional issues in this pretend relationship,” Harry says.

Louis gives a chagrined smile and then another sigh. “I just can’t believe it’s so difficult for her to respect that I don’t want her meddling in my life. I’m bloody twenty-eight. I haven't even been single for a year. I’ve told her time and time again that I can take care of my own life and even if I wanted to date and couldn’t find anyone, I’d just get tinder, for heaven’s sake.”

“Like any self-respecting millennial,” Harry grins.

Louis snorts. “Precisely. Dating’s all online, mum, god.”

“Just tell her you’ve already met someone and to meet you after brunch,” Harry says.

“She’ll be super nosy and ask a hundred questions I’ll have to make up answers for,” Louis whines. It’s a double-edged sword, wanting to see your mother but not actually wanting to talk about the things she’ll want to talk about when you do see her.

“So tell her about me. We did meet recently after all and you are already pretending to be my boyfriend. And it’s easier to base lies on truth, or so I’m told,” Harry says.

Louis stares at him and thinks again that Harry would probably make a terrible enemy. He seems so easygoing, but sometimes he reveals these snippets of a side that seems like it’d just plot to take you down behind your back and you wouldn’t notice what’s going on until it’s too late.

“You’re awfully blasé about me lying to my mother. Is that what you would do with yours?”

“No, but mine has never tried to set me up with anyone, even though I’ve not had one serious relationship in my life,” Harry shrugs. “Look, I’m not saying do it forever, but maybe just long enough for her to calm down and then tell her you made it all up and didn’t you seem happy the past weeks, well, guess what, mum, I was single that whole time.”

It does sound like it makes sense when Harry puts it like that. Louis gives a non-committal grunt.

“Or, you know, go have brunch with their friends’ and the daughter. I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

Harry grins like he’s won something and Louis whines and lets his head drop into his hands. Really, the alternative makes Harry’s idea seem about 400% more appealing.

Harry laughs at him and then nudges Louis’ foot with his own to make him look up, as their waiter is already bringing their food over.

“You’ll be alright,” Harry says.

Louis sighs but accepts it. It’s annoying, sure, but that’s pretty much all it is. Obviously he’ll be alright.

Louis is not alright.

It’s eight o’clock in the morning on Saturday and he’s woken by the chiming of his phone with a text. That by itself is a fucking crime, if you ask Louis. No one has any right to want anything from him before nine on the weekend. But then he forces his bleary eyes to focus on the screen, and there, right before his very eyes, sits the announcement of his imminent death.

‘We’re up early, so we thought we’d pop by before going to the Leicesters’! Be there in 30!’ his mother has texted.

Louis blinks twice and then sits up so quickly it makes him dizzy.

What. The fuck.

Is his mother actually sneakily checking out the (fictional) boy he’s seeing? What the ever-loving fuck is she thinking? That it’s okay to drop in on one of his dates to scare away his (fictional) new boyfriend? If Louis wants to introduce someone to his mother he will. She has absolutely no right--!!

-- and he has absolutely no boy.

Fucking fuck.

Louis is not awake enough to be prepared to fight this out with his mother in a half hour. He should’ve known that Harry’s advice was idiotic. Who pretends they have a boyfriend to their own mother?! Louis should be above this. He should be able to be honest with his mother. They should be able to talk about this like the adults they are. He should be able to make her understand that he has absolutely no interest in being set up on dates and she should fucking respect that!

He’ll just have to have that talk. Again.

Or he could call Harry. Just... to see if he’s even awake. He’s probably not, so there’s no real harm in it, right? Probably Harry won’t even pick up, Louis thinks, and dials Harry’s number.

“Good morning, Louis,” Harry says, sounding chipper and awake.

“Um,” Louis says, brain not entirely straightened out enough to properly deal with the situation. “How quickly can you be in Bermondsey?”

Right. Louis did not mean to ask that, but apparently he did. Is he really...?

“I’m near West Ham, so pretty quickly, probably. Why? Are you okay?” Harry asks, worry evident in his voice.

“No, I’m definitely not okay,” Louis sighs, running a hand over his face and then groping around for his glasses.

“Shit. Okay. Where are you? I’ll come get you,” Harry says and there’s noise on his end of the line, like he’s moving around to put on his shoes or grab his things.

“No, no, no, I’m not not okay in that way. I’m fine. I’m in bed. My own bed,” Louis rushes to assure him.

“Oh,” Harry says, the noise on his end of the line quieting again before he sighs. “Fuck, don’t do that.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Louis says and cuts himself off with a yawn before he can explain more.

“So what’s going on?” Harry asks.

“My mother is going to be dropping in on me in half an hour. To inspect the romantic brunch I am going to be having,” Louis says, rubbing at his forehead now that his glasses don’t let him put his entire face into the palm of his hand anymore.

“Oh,” Harry says. “Wow. She... really needs to learn about boundaries. I mean, no offense, but-”

“No, yeah. She does. I kinda half want her to find out her own son lied to her to get her off his back but I also really don’t want to deal with that today,” Louis says.

“Right. Well, I can be in Bermondsey in maybe just under a half hour? Maybe a bit more?” Harry says.

Louis doesn’t really know what to say to that. He knows it’s not all that different from what he’s doing for Harry, but the issues Harry has with Ben aren’t even close to the ones Louis has with his mother. It seems a little extreme to pull this charade on her.

“Louis?” Harry asks.

“Would you really?” Louis asks, head still swimming with disbelief.

Harry chuckles. “Sure. Told you I’d be available if you ever found yourself in need of a fake beau.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” Louis asks, voice monotone.

The sounds of Harry getting ready to leave pick back up on his end of the line.

“Nope,” Harry says. “Text me your address? I’m leaving now. Want me to bring anything?”

“Nah. I’ll just do a quick run to the shops and get some things for brunch. Any preferences? Allergies?”

“No allergies. And no avocados,” Harry says.

Louis chuckles. “You won’t have to eat them. Though smashed avocado on toast with some egg is delicious and you’re missing out.”

“No, thank you,” Harry says. “On second thought, get some fruit? And shall I bring flowers?”

“For my mother?” Louis asks, amused, while he stumbles out of bed and starts pulling clean clothes from his closet. If he’s supposed to be on a date, he should probably look the part.

“For you,” Harry laughs. Louis can hear a door being closed on his side of the line and then the heavy fall of Harry’s boots down the stairs.

“Oh! Well. If you want? I don’t require flowers or anything.”

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“This is absurd. But thank you,” Louis says.

Harry laughs. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you in a bit. Is Bermondsey on Jubilee the closest tube station?”

“It’s about a ten, fifteen minute walk from there, but yeah,” Louis says.

“Don’t forget to text me your address,” Harry says and then rings off with a quick “bye now”.

Louis texts Harry his address first, and then throws on a pair of jeans he sincerely hopes it’s not too warm for and a sleeveless top with gaping sides. There’s nothing to be done about his bed head yet, especially not if he’s going to be rushing to the shop, so he just slips on his vans, grabs his keys, wallet, and phone, and hurries out the door.

The sun is far too bright, but Louis doesn’t dare go back for his sunglasses, so he squints and hurries down the familiar streets. At least they’re almost empty this early on a Saturday. There’s not really much going on around here, especially not now that summer hols have started and everyone who can sleep in does.

He grabs an avocado just to be contrary, but also gets a bunch of grapes, some peaches, cherries, and a cantaloupe. He’s got toast and eggs and milk at home, so he could make French Toast, but that’ll take time he doesn’t have, so he grabs a waffle mix off the shelf when he passes it and gets an overpriced bottle of freshly squeezed organic orange juice. Only the best for his fake date after all. He hopes Harry’s not the kind of person who prefers a savoury English breakfast, but he does have a can of baked beans at home in case he does, and Harry is after all the one who asked for fruit.

By the time he makes it home his mother is due to show up in less than ten minutes so he straightens up the living/dining room and kitchen in record time, and just shoves all the things he doesn’t have time to properly deal with into his bedroom. There’s no time to properly take care of his hair, so he runs a comb through it quickly and tries to make the remaining messiness look deliberate. The stubble dusting his cheeks and chin will have to stay as well.

He barely manages to set the table for two and text Harry his full name when he asks for it, before his doorbell rings. Crossing his fingers that it’s Harry, not his mother, Louis buzzes the door open and then pulls open the door to his flat. He can already hear his mother coming up the stairs and he takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“I cannot believe you,” Louis hisses before anyone has the chance to say anything else, but steps aside to let his mother inside.

“I just wanted to see you, darling!” his mum says, looking a little taken aback by his attitude.

“Then ask me to meet you after you’re done with your brunch. Do not invite yourself over so you can inspect who I’m seeing. If I want to introduce anyone to you, I will. You’re meddling again, mother.”

She does have the decency to look a bit chastised, but then reaches out to pat his cheek.

“Did you not think you should shave?”

Louis bats her hand away.

“We are not done talking about this. And if you being here scares him off, I will lord it over you for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t make him up,” she teases.

Louis almost laughs about the irony of it, but then his doorbell rings again and his heart suddenly jumps up into his throat. It’s one thing to pretend for Harry’s jealous ex-boyfriend who’ll jump to any conclusion dangled in front of him, but it’s another thing entirely to do it for Louis’ mother. At least she doesn’t expect them to be loved up and comfortable around each other, so if anything between them seems off, Louis is firmly going to blame it on the fact that they met three weeks ago and Louis was not planning on introducing Harry to his family yet. Or at all. At least in the capacity of his boyfriend.

There’s a knock at the door that reminds Louis that over his worrying, he’s forgotten to open the door to his flat as well, and he pulls it open with maybe a little bit too much enthusiasm. Well. It’ll go with the part he’s playing, at least, he thinks.

“Morning,” Harry beams at him. He’s actually holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Good morning,” Louis says back and then nods his chin at the flowers. “Seriously?”

“Saw them and couldn’t resist,” Harry teases, tapping them against Louis’ chest lightly.

Louis rolls his eyes but takes them from him, inspecting the bouquet. He doesn’t know the names of any of these flowers, but they’re all soft pinks and whites and intense yellow and Louis kinda likes it. Harry’s turning out to be quite the charmer.

“Thanks,” Louis says, smiling up at Harry through his eyelashes, incredibly aware of the fact that his mother can see them from the other room and is probably pretending she’s not watching.

Harry widens his eyes a little bit like he’s trying to communicate something and then leans forward. Louis barely has a second to think “oh, shit, seriously?” before Harry’s lips are touching his. Louis kisses him back chastely for a second and then pulls back, letting his eyes move over to his mother and her husband, muttering a quiet “um...”

“Oh!” Harry says, like he’s been completely unaware of their presence. “Sorry. Um.”

“This is my mother, Johannah. And her husband, Dan,” Louis says, waving the flowers in their direction. “Mum, Dan, this is Harry.”

Harry steps fully into the flat in all his skinny jeans and unbuttoned shirt glory, holding out a hand for Louis’ mum and Dan to shake.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. Sorry, I didn’t know we’d have company,” he says.

“Oh, no. We were just stopping by. We wouldn’t want to take up any more of Lou’s time,” Louis mum says, grabbing Dan by the hand and pulling him past Harry towards the door.

Louis catches Dan’s eye and shares an incredulous look with him. Is his mother for real?

She kisses Louis’ cheek, and shakes Harry’s hand again, and then turns back to Louis.

“Come visit us soon, yeah? The girls miss you, and Doris and Ernie have so much they want to show off to their big brother,” she says.

Louis sighs with the guilt that twitches in his stomach. It’s not exactly his fault his mother decided to have more kids when he was already twenty-one and moved out of home and everything. Of course he’s a bit sad that he doesn’t get to see the littlest ones grow up from up close, but it was sort of to be expected, wasn’t it?

“Of course,” he says. “My Little Actors are done in two weeks and I’ve got a bit of time off before the staff retreat seminar thing. I’ll come see you.”

“Brilliant,” she says. “Lovely to meet you, Harry.”

“You as well,” Harry says graciously and Dan claps Louis on the shoulder once, muttering an apology that Louis ends up waving away. It’s definitely not Dan’s responsibility to play peacemaker between the two of them, after all.

“The little ones do ask after you a lot,” he says, Louis’ mum already waiting out in the hall.

Louis grins at him. “I’ll definitely come up soon.”

Dan nods at Louis and then at Harry before joining Johannah and pulling the door shut after him.

“Well,” Harry says. “That was entirely anticlimactic.”

“I thought for sure she was going to invite herself to join us,” Louis says, staring at the door.

“Maybe she saw how I couldn’t wait to kiss you and decided to give us a bit of privacy,” Harry suggests, waggling his eyebrows at Louis when he looks over at him.

“Is that why you did that?” Louis asks and shakes his head with a grin. “You’re more and more devious the longer I know you.”

Harry grins and then gestures at the flowers. “Those need a vase.”

“Right,” Louis says, turning from the door towards the rest of his flat. “Well, come in. Care for some breakfast?”

Harry laughs and leans down to take off his boots before he follows Louis into the kitchen.

“Why are you up this early anyway?” Louis asks once they’ve sat down and Harry has loaded his waffle with a truly inspiring amount of fruit. Louis is sort of looking forward to watching him eat it. That cannot possibly be a stable construction.

“I went for a jog. It gets too hot later in the day, so I had to get up early,” Harry explains.

“Or you could’ve just not gone for a jog,” Louis deadpans.

Harry grins and spears some cantaloupe and cherry onto his fork. “I like running.”

“Fair enough,” Louis shrugs. It’s not that he never goes for jogs – he’s part of a pub footie team for one, and he’s friends with Liam for another – it’s just that claiming he likes it would be going a step too far.

“Well, either way, thank you for the prompt rescue,” he goes on.

Harry waves him off. “Wasn’t much of a rescue, was it? And you’re feeding me delicious waffles in return so I think we’re even.”

“So what are you up to for the rest of the day?” Louis asks, wiping up nutella from his plate with a piece of waffle. If nothing else, this entire mess has resulted in a deliciously decadent breakfast he’d probably never bother with for just himself.

“Don’t have anything planned. I was just going to chill at home probably. Maybe look up one of the markets if I can be bothered,” Harry says with a shrug. He eats tongue first, and for some reason it makes Louis think of their well-behaved, chaste, barely-there kiss.

Louis reaches for his glass of orange juice and takes a swig from it, humming his acknowledgement.

“You? Big plans?” Harry asks back.

Louis shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Well, if you feel up to it, you can always join me,” Harry invites with a big smile.

Louis lets the idea take a turn in his mind before nodding. “Yeah. Sure. Why not? Let’s go on a fake date, then.”

Harry laughs and leans over the table to swipe a cherry off Louis’ plate, even though there are plenty on his own. Louis rolls his eyes, but he can tell the gesture is far more fond than it is annoyed. Growing up Louis hated few things more than his younger sisters helping themselves to whatever of his things they wanted, but now that he has had a few years distance from them and their habits, he finds that he really doesn’t mind sharing practically everything. It’s nice.

Harry launches into in depth descriptions of all his favourite markets and their pros and cons on a sunny summer Saturday, and Louis can only nod along and hum every now and then. He’s not a market kind of person, but he doesn’t mind crowds at least, so wherever Harry decides he wants to go will be fine with him.

The heat wave seems to finally have broken, at least. It’s warm outside, and the black fabric of Louis’ jeans heats up, but it’s not unbearable unless you’re stuck down in the tube tunnels. There’s even a light breeze that ruffles their hair and clothes as they slowly make their way through the crowded market place. If this were an actual date, Louis has to concede, it’d be a pretty good one, even if at first he’s mostly watching Harry be enthused by everything on show, rather than the things actually on show. His enthusiasm is contagious though and soon Louis finds himself picking up random knick knacks and jewellery, contemplating whether he should buy his sisters something, or if there are any birthdays coming up he needs to plan for. There’s Liam at the end of August, but Louis doubts he’d find anything for him here.

Harry meanwhile trails his fingers over almost everything, picking things up to inspect them and charming most disgruntled looking stall owners with his questions about the materials they use and how they produce their art. He doesn’t actually buy - or even seem to consider buying - anything, until they get to the clothing section further towards the back. Louis can practically see Harry’s eyes light up at the rows upon rows of clothing racks and grins to himself. Somehow, given Harry’s propensity for boldly patterned shirts, he probably should have expected that to happen.

It’s when Harry’s got a particularly floral shirt with an embroidery detail near the collar that Louis is almost certain is technically meant for girls held in his hand and Louis is debating asking for a food break soon, that Harry’s good mood slips for the first time all day. One moment he was holding the shirt up to his chest and tilting his head contemplatively, and one moment later when Louis looks back over he’s frowning down at his phone.

“Everything okay?” Louis asks, stepping up next to him, a sympathetic frown on his own face.

“Ben texted me,” Harry says.

“Oh.”

“He wants to know if we’ll be at this thing tonight a friend of his is having.”

“We?” Louis asks.

Harry nods, frown deepening. “Yeah. Well, I assume ‘Lewis’ is meant to be you. I don’t know any Lewises. Or other Louises.”

Louis bites down on a grin. ‘Lewis’. What a tool.

“Grimmy already invited me but I told him I wasn’t sure about going. Do you think I should?” Harry asks, turning to shoot Louis a questioning look.

“Um,” Louis says. “I guess? I mean, this is the most direct way he’s asked to see you.” Except for that time he stood you up.

“But he asked if I’d be there with you.”

“Well, we are making him think you’d take me to that sort of thing.”

“So if I go, should I take you? Would you even-?”

“I’m free. I can go, if you want me there,” Louis says with a shrug.

Harry sighs heavily and rubs the back of the hand holding the phone across the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe he feels better about talking to you in a sort of public setting, you know? Where there are lots of distractions and if it goes south there’s other stuff to cover it up,” Louis suggests.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Harry says, though he doesn’t seem convinced. Louis isn’t either, if he’s being honest. He’s grasping for straws and if this doesn’t work, he thinks he should probably tell Harry to scrap their plan and just decide whether he really wants to talk to Ben that badly or maybe just cut his losses and leave him be.

“I guess I’ll go. I mean, I like seeing Grimmy and that lot, so it won’t be a total loss either way,” Harry says.

“Do that, then,” Louis says. “And just let me know whether you want me there for moral support.”

“Would you really?” Harry asks.

Louis chuckles and pokes Harry in the side in an effort to diffuse the tension that’s settled over them a little.

“Course I would. You came running like a white knight this morning, didn’t you? I figure that means it’s my turn again,” he grins.

“This is the weirdest fake relationship I’ve ever been in,” Harry says, but types out a text one-handed. Probably to his friend Grimmy to let them know they’d be attending whatever ‘this thing tonight’ is going to be.

“Alright then. We’re on the guest list,” he says a moment later and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Guest list?” Louis asks. “Is this a dress code sort of event?”

“Nah, no worries. They just rented out a club. You’d be fine like you are,” Harry grins and then holds the shirt still in his other hand up against his chest again.

“What do you think?”

“Go for it,” Louis says, because there’s a bright look in Harry’s eyes when he looks down at the shirt.

Harry nods decisively. “I think I will.”

He does.

Fifteen minutes later finds them lazily ambling towards the food court, Harry waxing poetic about this one particular curry that they have to have since they’re here, as it’s apparently better than any ambrosia Louis could ever dream up. Louis tells him not to over-hype it, but has to concede that when they’re sat down with a bowl of it each that Harry hasn’t been exaggerating.

“You know all the best food. Are you sure you’re not a food blogger or something in disguise?” Louis asks, licking sauce off his plastic spoon.

Harry laughs. “Nah, I’m just friends with a lot of people who really like food. We have a whatsapp group set up for it and everything.”

“Seriously?”

Harry shrugs, grinning. “Yeah.”

“That’s sort of brilliant,” Louis says and goes back to his curry.

They eat in silence for a couple minutes, before Harry speaks up again.

“Thank you,” he says. “Really.”

“What for?” Harry paid for the curry, after all.

“Just... everything. I didn’t think the bloke who’s pint I spilled three weeks ago would turn into a sort of partner in crime slash new friend,” Harry shrugs.

Louis smiles at him, a little pleased to hear Harry call them friends. Harry’s well on his way to becoming one of Louis’ best friends, he thinks, if they keep going the way they are.

“It’s no problem,” Louis says.

“Still. You barely know me and you keep coming to my rescue. You’d think I’d have a better handle on this by twenty-six,” Harry says.

Louis frowns.

“Why? It’s your first relationship. There are some things you only learn to do by actually doing them,” he says with a shrug. “And it’s not like he’s making it easy on you. I wouldn’t offer to help if I didn’t want to, don’t worry.”

Louis wouldn’t. He likes to help, but he’s not a martyr.

Harry accepts it with a shrug, but still looks a little dejected, so Louis decides to change the topic.

“So... Grimmy?” he asks.

Harry chuckles a bit and scratches the back of his head, smile a little chagrined.

“Yeah, er. Nick Grimshaw,” he says.

It was of course the first name that came to mind when Louis heard the nickname earlier, but he wasn’t expecting it to be the right one.

“From the radio?” he asks, just to make sure.

“Yep,” Harry says, nodding slowly like he’s used to this reaction.

“You’re friends?”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good mates,” Harry says with a shrug like it’s no big deal.

It’s not, of course, because celebrities are just people and all that, but it also is, because it’s difficult to remember that when you learn your new friend is ‘pretty good mates’ with the voice on the radio you’ve been hearing five days a week when you get up in the morning.

“He seems like a laugh. And he’s quite fit,” Louis says and then takes a moment to hesitate before he goes on. “I would, probably.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs and then lets his eyes drag over Louis deliberately before leering at him a little bit with mirth dancing in his eyes. “You probably could. He’d think you’re pretty.”

“Well, of course he would. I am pretty,” Louis says, mock-offended, earning himself another laugh.

“Of course, of course,” he relents.

“Anything else I should know? If not a food blogger, are you secretly a pop star?” Louis teases.

“Nope. But, um, I’m good friends with Ed Sheeran too?” Harry says.

Louis squints his eyes, trying to work out if Harry’s pulling his leg, but he’s only idly moving his spoon through his curry as he waits for Louis to react.

“No, you’re not,” Louis says, scowling at him.

Harry laughs again. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m really not. We met way back when. He crashed at my place a couple times.”

“What, in halls?”

“No, back homewith my parents, when he played tiny pubs and couch surfed. Though he did crash in halls with me once or twice as well. Just not because he didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You’re making this up,” Louis insists. There is just no way that Harry, works in a small modern art gallery, loves ridiculously patterned shirts, and knows all the best food in London Harry, is secretly friends with two of England’s most talked about music people.

“No, I’m not! Look, I’ll prove it,” Harry says and then takes out his phone. Only instead of showing Louis some sort of text message or something, he snaps a picture of Louis and sends it to someone. Supposedly Ed Sheeran.

“Even if someone answers, that could be anyone,” Louis says.

Harry waggles his eyebrows and smiles enigmatically at him before going back to his food.

Louis returns his attention to his own curry, but when Harry’s phone dings with a text, his head snaps up faster than he’d really like. He can be chill about this. And anyway, he still doesn’t fully believe Harry.

Harry in turn sends a short text back before turning the phone towards Louis so he can read the conversation.

There’s the photo of Louis’ face and Harry’s message that reads ‘look who doesn’t believe we’re friends’.

The person Harry claims is Ed Sheeran has texted back ‘that the fake boyfriend?’.

The last message simply reads ‘yep’ and there are the three dots indicating an answer being typed out. When it shows up it says ‘get in’ and Louis can’t help but laugh, making Harry turn the phone back around. He rolls his eyes at it.

“He’s an idiot.”

“He just wants you to get laid.”

When Harry’s phone dings with another message he looks down at it briefly before turning it back around with a smug grin. He taps play on the video message and that’s definitely Ed Sheeran’s face looking at Louis from Harry’s phone screen.

“Hi, Louis! If Ben turns out to be a dick, punch him for me, please,” Ed Sheeran says.

Harry takes his phone back, smug grin still in place while he watches Louis try to contain his reaction. He manages to keep his urge to fanboy to the extreme internal, but his face must give away some of his surprise and giddiness, as Harry’s grin smoothes out into something less smug and more genuinely amused.

“Tell him I will,” Louis says as though relaying messages to Ed Sheeran is a perfectly normal thing for him to do.

Harry dutifully sends the text and while Louis watches him do it, he realises that Ed Sheeran knows he’s pretending to be Harry’s boyfriend to goad his wanker of an ex into a conversation. If you had told Louis this is what would come from his awful date with Jonathan, he probably would have been a lot more excited about it.

... Actually he probably would have laughed at you and absolutely nothing would have happened differently.

“My friends always say my life is like a soap opera, but I get the feeling it’s utterly mundane compared to yours,” Louis says.

Harry shrugs. “Not so much. They’re just people. I’ve known Ed for almost ten years now, so... he’s just one of my best mates. With a shit load of talent and money.”

“I bet he gives the best presents.”

“He’s actually really shit at presents but he’d happily throw his money at you if you asked for something,” Harry laughs.

Louis grins and files the information away (Louis himself is awesome at presents, if he does say so himself), looking back down at his curry.

“Well, since we’re exchanging secrets, I should probably tell you I’m Spider-Man,” he says, scraping up the last bits of it. It really is just as good as advertised.

Harry nods wisely and turns to his own lunch. “Explains all the cobwebs.”

“Can’t get them to leave me alone,” Louis laments.

“The life of a superhero is a tough one,” Harry agrees. “Thank you for bearing with it for the rest of us.”

“You’re welcome. Someone has to keep this city safe.”

“I’m so glad we have you to count on,” Harry says with a grin.

They finish their food in silence and it occurs to Louis that it should probably not feel as easy as it does. He doesn’t feel any pressure to say anything, and from the far off expression on Harry’s face he’s lost in his own head anyway. Even though there’s the bustle of other people all around them, the smell of different food and the sun warming everything up a little more than is comfortable now that they’ve passed noon, Louis feels... relaxed.

“Sorry for not being very good company,” Harry says when he blinks back into the here and now.

Louis puts his spoon down when he’s truly all but licked his bowl and waves Harry off with a lazy hand gesture.

“No worries. I don’t need constant entertainment provided.”

“Are you saying I’m not entertaining?”

“Oh, no! Not at all. Watching you stare off into the middle distance while you eat is positively riveting,” Louis says. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away, honestly. Had to know how it ended.”

“With a hankering for a cookie, to be honest,” Harry says and turns in his seat to look around. “Do you want one?”

“Nah, thanks. I’m still in curry heaven.”

“Hm,” Harry hums and then gets up from his seat. “I’ll be right back.”

Louis makes an inviting gesture towards the food booths and watches Harry’s back move through the crowd until he can’t see him anymore. He takes a moment to close his eyes and feel the wind move through his hair and rustle through trees or sun shades and people. There’s a kid crying somewhere and Louis feels a stab of sympathy, but even that doesn’t ruffle him too much.

It’s nice, this. Spending time one-on-one with a new person that he likes, finding out about them not because they share lists of favourites and their brightest childhood memories but because he gets to watch how Harry eats and the way he looks around himself like he’s trying to take in everything the world has to offer. It’s not that Louis doesn’t like spending time with Niall and Liam, because he does. It’s just that this is different.

Christ. Maybe his mother is right. Maybe he does miss dating and having one person in his life who he can give his undivided attention.

“Right. I hope you like chocolate chip,” Harry says, sitting back down.

Louis opens his eyes lazily and shoots Harry a look, but accepts the paper bag with the oversized cookie inside anyway.

“What if I’m allergic to chocolate?”

“I saw you eat nutella literally this morning,” Harry says.

Louis hums his acquiescence and then opens the bag to smell the cookie. Harry’s already breaking off pieces of his and sighing happily, and now that Louis can actually smell the mixture of butter, sugar, and chocolate (and a little flour has to be in there somewhere, he figures), he can’t quite resist it either.

“Is this from your whatsapp group as well?” he asks, chewing slowly.

Harry laughs. “Lux found these the last time I took her here, actually. She loves the hair ties this one woman sells so I took her here for end of term and got her one, and she insisted on having cookies as well.”

“You hang around school kids?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow.

Harry rolls his eyes. “She’s my sort of goddaughter. She’s in primary school and had a report with letter grades for the first time this year. They were all As so I figured she deserved a treat.”

It’s probably the most adorable thing Louis has heard in a while.

“That’s very sweet of you,” he says. “I sent my sisters something up to Doncaster for their report cards as well.”

“Is that where you’re from then? Doncaster?”

“Yep. Left for uni in Leeds and then moved to London with my last boyfriend. It’s grown on me.”

“It does that. I moved here for uni, but I used to think I’d go back north.”

“Where are you from then?” Louis asks, licking a smear of chocolate off his thumb.

“This tiny village in Cheshire. Near Manchester, so I thought I’d just move there,” Harry says.

“Village life not for you?” Louis teases. To be honest, he can’t even imagine Harry growing up in a village, what with his hair down to his collarbones, his ridiculous flamingo patterned shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest and assortment of rings decorating his fingers.

“It’s... picturesque,” Harry concedes. “I love going back to my mum and step-dad’s house, but I also love coming back to London.”

“I don’t think I could live in the country either,” Louis says. “At least not yet.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll retire to a little cottage when I’m, like, sixty. But until then I think I’m good here,” Harry grins.

“Bet they don’t have cookies like these in the country,” Louis says, stuffing the last – probably slightly too large – chunk of his into his mouth.

Harry laughs, brushing his hands off on his jeans and crumpling up his paper bag. “Exactly.”

They spend another hour strolling through the rest of the market, before they grow bored of the constant commotion and get back on the tube. Harry follows Louis off the train at his station, and Louis doesn’t comment on it, just holds the door to his flat open for Harry to come in.

“Want to watch a movie or something?” Louis offers, gesturing towards his collection of DVDs.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says and ambles over.

He fishes The Amazing Spider-Man off the shelf and holds it up to Louis with a grin.

“Look, there’s your biopic.”

“Hilarious,” Louis deadpans, taking the rest of the cherries and diced cantaloupe they hadn’t finished off at breakfast out of the fridge for a snack.

“Can we watch it?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Louis says, setting the fruit down on the couch table and taking the DVD from Harry to set up his DVD player. Remote in hand he flops down onto the sofa next to Harry who’s already helping himself to the fruit and starts the film. They spend the next four hours watching Marvel movies, arguing superpowers, and eating the Indian food they order in between movies, since the curry from lunch had left them both in the mood for more.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Louis asks as he rifles through his closet for clothes appropriate for going out in. It’s not like his outfit changes all that much, but the slightly skinnier jeans and the way the top falls down to his hips just make him feel – and move – differently and that’s really all he wanted.

Harry for his part hasn’t been at home yet and switches the shirt he’d worn all day for the one he bought at the market earlier. He’d hopped into Louis’ shower earlier to wash his hair and now it falls in gentle waves down to his collarbones, parted almost neatly at the side of his hair, though since he has a habit of running his hand through his hair every five minutes, Louis’s sure the neat part’ll be history soon enough.

“I don’t really know. A mate of a mate of Grimmy’s has something to celebrate and so she rented out this club – I’ve never been so I can’t tell you anything about it – and Grimmy invited me along. I don’t know how Ben knows I’ve been invited. It’s more his group of friends than mine, safe for Grimmy,” Harry says.

“So we’re basically rocking up with no clue as to who is celebrating what,” Louis sums up.

Harry grins at him. “Yep. No one in that group minds that though. The more people having a good time there the better. Nick wouldn’t have asked me along otherwise. Or he’d told me what it’s about.”

“Well, if you say so,” Louis says and makes sure there’s enough cash in his wallet before he pockets it along with his phone and keys. Harry grabs his things off the coffee table and then they’re off.

The evening air is still warm with the day’s sunshine and Louis can feel it settling into his veins a little. Summer always leaves him a little bit hyped, especially when it’s really hot like this.

“Looks like it might rain, later,” he comments, craning his head up before they hop down the stairs to get back onto the tube.

“It always looks like it might rain later,” Harry grins back.

Louis rolls his eyes, but grins at Harry and follows him through the barriers and further down into the ground. Thinking about how deep underground the tube actually runs always freaks Louis out a bit, so he pinches Harry in the side and grins at him widely when he yelps and flinches away from the contact. When Harry makes as if to retaliate, Louis sets off, running down the empty platform, only glancing back once to make sure that Harry’s giving chase.

They keep their pinching war up all the way to the front of the line in front of the club where the bouncer asks for their names and lets them in as ‘Harry Styles and plus-one’. Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s and bats his eyelashes up at him.

“It’s like you really are a secret pop star, come to introduce me your world of glamour and rock and roll.”

Harry only laughs and steers him through the crowd towards the backroom they’d been told the party they’re attending is taking place.

Content to let Harry lead him for the moment, Louis lets his eyes roam over the club, taking in the people and the decor, the music and the way all the alcohol is served in pretty glasses with garnish and straws and umbrellas. There must be quite the cocktail bar. Louis can already feel his wallet getting lighter, but he’s absolutely in the mood for something fruity that packs a punch – no pun intended.

Once they make it to the back room, Harry stops for a moment, surveying the crowd himself. Louis looks around as well, curious more than searching, and catches eye of at least three vaguely familiar faces before Harry grabs his arm and pulls him over to the unmistakable quiff on Nick Grimshaw’s equally unmistakable head.

“Harry!” Nick Grimshaw cheers, throwing both arms in the air and then wrapping them around Harry in a warm hug. At least two of the girls get up from the table to come give Harry hugs hello as well, and Harry cheerfully waves at the rest of the group. They all seem to know each other at least a little bit, so Louis pastes on his best smile and steps up beside Harry.

“Right! This is Louis,” Harry says, smiling at Louis and then at the table, and rattling off a list of names Louis has no hope of remembering. He’s gotten good at it, what with being a teacher and all, but the club is loud enough to make hearing all the names a little difficult, and there are some frankly unusual names in there. It’s one thing to know you’ve got three Andrews sitting in your Thursday morning class, but quite another one to keep your Siobhan and Shaileen apart. If Louis had indeed heard that correctly and the girl’s name’s not actually Yvonne. He’s not sure about that.

“Is this your mysterious plus one, then?” Nick Grimshaw asks, scooting over into the already overcrowded booth to make room for the two of them. Harry shuffles in first, and Louis sits down next to him, throwing one leg over one of Harry’s so he won’t topple out of the booth. Harry reaches down to hold onto Louis’ leg automatically, like he doesn’t even have to think about it.

“You’ve been so secretive about him!” Nick goes on.

Louis raises an intrigued eyebrow at Harry who may or may not be flushing. It’s hard to tell under the pink light of the club.

“I wasn’t being secretive I just asked if it’s alright if I bring someone,” he says.

Louis wonders if any of the people here know about the whole Ben thing. And if they do, if they also know about the whole Louis-pretending-to-be-Harry’s-new-boyfriend thing.

“Alright, if you say so,” Nick says with a smile that says he doesn’t quite believe Harry – or that he knows more than he can reveal right now. Harry rolls his eyes at him, which doesn’t really give Louis a good indication as to which one it is.

“Ben’s here tonight,” one of the girls – Yvonne, Louis thinks it was actually Yvonne – says then, and all eyes immediately turn to Harry.

“Yeah, I know. He texted me to ask if I was going,” Harry says, shrugging nonchalantly. Louis would have almost bought it this time, if it weren’t for how he can feel the tension creeping up on Harry from being pressed together in the booth. That probably means Nick Grimshaw can feel it as well on Harry’s other side.

“So you decided to come after all and show off your new boy?” Nick grins, and then turns to Louis.

“You are quite a lovely thing, darling,” he says.

Harry turns to widen his eyes at Louis and shoot him a short smirk, and Louis thinks of their earlier conversation and laughs.

“Thanks. I love being called a ‘lovely thing’,” he grins at Nick, who takes the jab good-naturedly with a nod of his head.

“No offense meant,” Nick says, and Louis shakes his head, still smiling.

“None taken. It’s quite the compliment, I reckon, next to this one,” he says, pointing at Harry with a careless thumb.

Nick’s laugh is booming. “Right? What’s up with that face?”

“Don’t know, mate, but it seems excessive.”

“Cheers to that,” Nick says and lifts his drink, only to notice that neither Harry nor Louis have one.

“You’re still dry? We’ll have to change that. A round of shots! Two rounds!” he calls.

The whole table cheers and two of the girls volunteer to go get them from the bar and there’s a lot of shuffling out of the booth to let them out before resettling. Louis doesn’t bother removing his leg from Harry’s lap, since they’ll only be squished together again as soon as the girls are back anyway and, from what Louis can tell, they’re definitely supposed to act like a couple tonight. Louis settles back into the booth and lets Harry catch up with Nick and his other friends, only really speaking when someone else pulls him into a conversation and taking the time to listen in.

The first two shots take a while to sink in, but by the time they have, Harry has relaxed a bit again and stopped semi-surreptitiously checking the room for signs of Ben every couple minutes, so when Nick asks if they want to do another round, Louis agrees enthusiastically and drags Harry to the bar with Nick, where Nick orders them two shots each and makes them down them in quick succession. Louis cheers Harry on a bit too enthusiastically maybe, but it makes him laugh, so he figures it’s all good. He knocks his own back without much fussing, much to Nick’s approval, who thumps his large hand down on Louis’ shoulder and grins first at him and then at Harry.

“This is a good one. Where did you find him?”

“Pub,” Harry grins, making Nick laugh and Louis roll his eyes. He’s not a drunkie, thanksverymuch. Both times Harry has seen him around alcohol he’s been there because of other people.

And just like the first time, Harry knocks his elbow into someone else’s.

Louis laughs loudly over Harry’s apology, because Harry really, really needs to watch his elbows, but it dies when the guy turns around just as Harry looks over at him and turns out to be Ben.

“Sorry,” Harry stutters out and Ben smiles at him blandly.

“No worries, mate,” he says, and then turns back around to the woman he’s talking to as if Harry were a perfect stranger.

Louis watches it happen with a sort of horrified fascination that culminates in a leaden ball of dread sinking into the pit of his stomach. He clocks the stricken look on Harry’s face and catches Nick’s eye, a silent communication passing between them.

“Let’s go dance!” Nick says and grabs Harry’s wrist.

Louis whoops and grabs Harry’s other wrist, pushing him along behind Nick, weaving their way through the throng of people on the dance floor, right into the thick of it, so there’s no possibility of accidentally catching Ben’s eye.

This is it, Louis decides, slotting into place beside Harry and trying to somehow get into the beat of the song and pull Harry with him. No more playing around for Ben’s attention. If Harry wants to, Louis will personally walk him to Ben’s front door and stand watch while they talk it out, but otherwise, Louis is content to just find out his address and key his car or something. The scumbag really isn’t worth any of Harry’s attention or time. Or any lingering affection.

Nick seems to be having similar thoughts, since he absentmindedly glares over the crowd in Ben’s general direction before catching Louis’ eye again and grimacing at him. Louis mimes retching, earning himself a wide grin.

Between the two of them they somehow manage to get Harry to participate in the dancing, and when Harry expresses a need for more drinks, Nick slips away immediately, promising to return with something sweet, potent and possibly pink. Harry grins his first genuine seeming smile in a while and then turns to Louis more fully, now that there’s only two of them dancing. Given how crowded the room has gotten and how many people there are at the bar, it’ll be a while before Nick will be back.

Louis grabs Harry’s hands and puts them on his waist, shuffling closer so he properly slots into place to dance with him, putting his own hands up on Harry’s shoulders. It’s all a bit school disco at first, because Harry’s stuck somewhere between apathetic and unwilling. Louis goes with it for a bit, not wanting to push Harry too hard, but all that happens is that the frown on Harry’s face deepens, so Louis decides to go in guns blazing and rolls his hips up against Harry’s.

Harry startles out of whatever contemplations he was stuck in and raises both eyebrows at Louis in surprise. There’s a tilt to his lips that might develop into a smile if Louis plays his card right.

Louis cocks a challenging eyebrow and rolls his hips into Harry’s again, slotting his thigh up against Harry’s.

There’s a moment where Louis’s unsure if he’s gone too far and Harry will push him away and decide to go home, but then he shifts his grip on Louis’ hips and pulls him closer instead.

“With us then?” Louis shouts over the music.

Harry only grins at him, pushing one of his hands onto Louis’ back to pull him flush against Harry’s body and letting his hips settle into the heavy bass of the song blaring out of the speakers. Louis doesn’t recognise it, but he doesn’t particularly care to, and just lets his body move with the rhythm of it. Harry doesn’t move his eyes off Louis’ face as if he’s still waiting for him to pull back again, or maybe challenging him not to, so Louis lets one of hands trail up higher over Harry’s neck and grabs onto the back of it, twisting a few strands of Harry’s hair around his fingers before settling his hand there.

Harry laughs and pulls Louis closer into an impromptu hug, swaying them back and forth clumsily. Louis’ surprised for a moment, but catches himself and winds his arms around Harry in return, holding him while the song segues into something faster that doesn’t match their slow movements anymore. It seems to get Harry buzzing though as he pulls back from their embrace with a wide grin on his face that Louis doesn’t think is fake, and starts jumping around in a manner that might vaguely be referred to as dancing.

Louis can’t help but laugh at him, but at least Harry seems to be having fun again.

Nick comes back with their drinks not long after, and he’s actually managed to find something pink that smells sweet and feels like it burns all the way down Louis’ throat.

“This is disgusting!” Harry shouts. “I absolutely love it!”

Nick and Louis both laugh at that, watching Harry knock his drink back rather quickly while they’re both more nursing it than anything.

Harry drags two of the girls over from their booth – Daisy and.... something with an A, Louis thinks – and gets them both to join them on the dance floor, and then to join Harry in another round of more shots. Louis is still nursing the evil pink concoction and thinks about just abandoning it and joining Harry and the shots, but then thinks that Harry will probably need someone to make sure he gets home tonight, so he just... doesn’t. He abandons his pink drink, but then gets himself a glass of water, shrugging at Nick and hoping his flush doesn’t show under the pink light when Nick smirks at him.

“Good of you, Louis,” Nick comments.

Louis takes a sip of his water and raises his eyebrows innocently. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry and the girls come back over to them then, all five of them flailing around together far more ridiculously than Louis would ever dare to on his own. There is, after all, strength in numbers, and although a few people might be laughing at them, it’s all the amused, good-natured sort of laugh. Everyone does sort of know everyone here after all, and Louis finds he really enjoys it. It’s a bit like the halls parties of his uni years, where everyone knew just how ridiculous they were being but no one ever really cared.

The air in the club is stifling, but Louis stops feeling it after a while, sweat tricking down the line of his spine and his glass of water welcome not just because it lacks alcohol but because he feels like he’s losing all the liquid his body needs to function through his pores. There are people pressed close all around him and his throat has gone a little hoarse from shouting along to so many songs he doesn’t even really know the lyrics to but has been bullied into with various elbows to the sides that have probably left bruises there. Louis lets it all sweep him up and carry him off in the general excitement, not thinking about how much time passes while they dance and drink and sometimes chat and mostly dance more.

The girls have at some point both retreated back to the bunk, as has Nick, and now Louis’s left with Harry, who keeps making Louis twirl under his arm the same way he’d done earlier with the girls. He’d tried it on Nick as well, but Nick had laughed too much about how low he has to duck to fit underneath Harry’s arm, even though Harry’s actually quite a tall lad. Louis’s not sure how Nick has managed to resist Harry’s impressive pout and beg off to the booth but it’s left Louis with slack to pick up and since he’s not only not as tall as Nick but actually shorter than Harry, he’s been letting him twirl him under his arm for long enough that everything around them has started to look a little more tilted than it has anyway.

Louis stumbles a bit and giggles, putting a hand against the firm plane of Harry’s chest.

“Harry. H. Hazza. Stop, I can’t—I’m too dizzy for this,” he says, making Harry laugh as well and wrap his arms back around Louis in a hug again.

“Me toooo, Lou. I’m so dizzy. I don’t even know if those people over there are actually dancing or if it’s just my brain,” Harry says.

Louis looks over his shoulder, trying to make out which couple Harry might be talking about but gives up when all it does is make him more dizzy and his neck hurt.

“I don’t know. Might be your brain,” he says instead, thinking it’d be easier to get his bearings back if Harry weren’t swaying them back and forth. Then again, Harry might not be doing it on purpose.

“I shouldn’t have had a second one of the pink thing, I think,” Harry says.

Louis gapes at him. “You had a second one? When did that happen?”

“I think you were in the loo,” Harry said. “They were delicious and you were taking a while.”

He says it like those are the only two reasons anyone needs to drink more than one of those evil things. Louis is relatively certain he’s still feeling the sugar high from that one.

“Think I should probably go home before I crash,” Harry says then, his swaying slowing down until he’s just hanging half off of Louis. Louis has to strain to hear him, but at least that means the swaying was probably on purpose and Harry’s not quite too drunk to walk yet.

“Want me to take you home?” Louis offers and Harry lifts his head from where he’s been pillowing it onto Louis’ shoulder to look at him with wide eyes.

“Would you?” he asks.

Louis pats his back. “’course. What a proper date would do, innit?”

Harry giggles sharply and then twirls around towards their booth with far more energy than Louis thought he’d still have left.

“Gotta say goodbye to Nick first. He worries if I don’t, does Nick,” Harry shouts over his shoulder, and then he’s off like a shot, laughing to himself as he weaves his way through the crowd who are all looking at him with varying degrees of displeasure and amusements.

Nick’s laugh booms loudly when Harry throws himself down onto his lap to announce that he’s leaving and Nick needn’t worry, because it’s to his own flat, all by himself except for Louis who said he’s taking him home.

“Is he?” Nick asks, like he’s humouring a child and sending Louis a look over Harry’s shoulder. Louis shrugs back at him.

“Yes! Louis is the best, isn’t he?” Harry asks and beams at the group of people left in the booth, lifting a hand to wave at them.

“Good luck with that one,” almost-definitely-Daisy says, and Louis shoots her a thumbs up.

“My number’s in H’s phone. Ring me if there’s any trouble,” Nick says to Louis as he’s pushing Harry off his lap again, watching him crumble to the floor and giggle to himself like he’s accomplished something great with a fond exasperation on his face.

Louis reaches down a hand to pull Harry up again.

“Will do. Thanks, mate. And thanks for the invite. Was wicked,” he says.

Nick waves him off. “Any friend of Harry’s...”

“Cheers,” Louis grins and then waves at the rest of them in the booth before wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist to steer him back outside. He keeps an eye open for Ben, just in case he needs to steer Harry clear of him, but doesn’t see him around anywhere. Louis sort of hopes he left and had a terrible time. Food poisoning maybe. That seems fitting.

Harry, slightly predictably, gets a little worse once they hit the air outside, tearing away from Louis’ side and throwing his arms wide, twirling around his own axis, until Louis has to grab him around the middle and hold on with all his might as Harry stumbles and laughs.

“The night is still so young, Louis!” Harry shouts.

“It’s two-thirty, actually,” Louis points out, much to Harry’s amusement.

“Come on, H, gotta tell me where you live, so I can get you home,” Louis coaxes, trying to steer Harry towards the line of cabs by the side of the club. He can’t be bothered trying to figure out which buses still run and if any of them can take them ‘near West Ham’, which is all he knows of where Harry lives.

“’s not here,” Harry says, giggling to himself and at least holding on to Louis by himself so he won’t fall over.

“No, I didn’t think so. Do you think you can tell me where it is, though?” Louis asks.

Harry sighs deeply and frowns at him. “Don’t want to go home yet, Lou. ‘s so dreary there.”

Louis feels his stomach sink down to his knees. Harry is a melancholy drunk when he’s not a fun drunk. Who says ‘dreary’ while trying not to trip over their own feet, honestly?

“Alright, then how about this – you come and stay over with me, yeah? We’ll have more fruit and waffles for breakfast tomorrow,” he suggests.

Harry shrugs morosely but then nods. “Alright. I guess.”

Louis rolls his eyes where Harry can’t see and pushes him towards one of the cabs, pulling open the door, and watching Harry flop down onto the seat.

“Your friend alright?” the cabbie asks when Louis climbs into the backseat with Harry. Louis shoots Harry a look, takes in his sweaty face, the flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, jittery legs and waves the cabbie off.

“He’s fine,” he says, sincerely hoping that Harry is, indeed, fine and won’t throw up on their cab ride. Louis is in absolutely no mood for the bad blood or the bill that comes with. Not that it’s happened to him often, but once is already one time too many.

“Alright,” the cabbie says with a deep sigh that betrays that he’s not convinced and turns back towards the front. “Where to then?”

Louis gives his address and then makes sure that Harry’s properly buckled in before he does his own seat belt up.

Harry starts humming along to the radio under his breath about two minutes into the ride, and Louis is pleasantly surprised to learn that even pissed like this he manages to carry a tune almost effortlessly. His voice is nice too, given that it’s a bit shot from screaming himself hoarse inside the club for the last few hours.

Every time he gets a bit too loud to be entirely polite Louis shoots him a look and then pinches his knee, making Harry giggle and mime zipping up his lips before he inevitably, thirty seconds later, starts up his humming and singing again. On the list of drunk cab rides taking care of even drunker friends, this is still up there with the easiest times Louis has ever had, especially given the striking amount of alcohol Harry has actually had. All that jogging and fruit eating must be good for something, Louis supposes.

Harry’s head lolls sideways so he’s looking at Louis some time during the ride, eyes still glassy and unfocussed, the smile on his lips a little tired but genuine looking. Louis turns his own face towards him as well, making sure Harry keeps the dopey expression on his face and doesn’t slip into melancholia, or worse, nausea. The yellow street lights streaking over his face light up his eyes occasionally and make them glitter in the night. There are rain drops running down the outside of the window behind Harry, and Louis idly thinks that he was right. It did look like rain.

When the cab stops at Louis’ address, Harry unbuckles his seatbelt and darts out the door before Louis can get done paying the cabbie and stumble after him. Luckily the streets are deserted and there’s absolutely no traffic, because Harry did definitely not check whether he’d be running in front of any cars and the arm with which Louis reached for him wasn’t fast enough to hold him back.

“Harry, for fuck’s sake!” Louis yells as soon as he’s out of the car himself, slamming the door behind him, and not paying the cab any mind as it pulls away again.

Harry only laughs and twirls around his own axis, head tilted upward towards the falling rain.

“The rain’s so warm, Lou!” he shouts.

Louis stalks over and grabs one of Harry’s hand, meaning to pull him off the street towards the pavement at least, if not up the stairs and into his flat. Instead Harry jerks at his arm with more force than Louis expected, making him stumble forwards into Harry’s arms who starts swaying them around to a beat that’s only in his head.

“You danced all night with me!” he giggles.

“I did, yes, but not in the rain,” Louis says, trying to wriggle back.

“Oh, come on, Louis, you’re not going to melt,” Harry teases, arm like a vice around Louis’ back where he’s pressing him close to his chest. Harry’s hot like a furnace, especially against the chill of the slight breeze that creeps over Louis’ dampened, bare arms and where his hand is pressed into the open collar of Harry’s shirt. It’s not full-on raining, thankfully, more spraying down a bit of water, but it’s enough to make Louis’ skin feel covered in a film of wetness and for his hair to cool his head down more than he’s really comfortable with.

“Come onnn, we need to get inside,” Louis says, trying to wriggle out of Harry’s hold.

There’s a moment when he looks up at Harry and Harry looks down at him, expression slack and eyes almost intent even through their drunken sheen where Louis suddenly remembers the second before Harry leaned down to kiss him this morning. He can barely remember the actual kiss, only the warmth that rolled off of Harry then the same way it does now, and how Harry’s cologne smelled so clean on him early in the morning, whereas now all Louis can smell is the rain. And even if he could smell anything else, Harry wouldn’t smell of his cologne, but of sweat and clubbing for hours. Alcohol, Louis reminds himself.

Harry lets him go so suddenly he stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet, cursing loudly. It only makes Harry laugh, but at least he’s still holding Louis’ hand and keeping him from falling over, so Louis might forgive him for it.

“Twirl?” Harry asks, grin wide and boyish and arm already lifting Louis’ hand like there’s no doubt in his mind that Louis will agree.

Louis sighs heavily, but can’t keep the smile off his face as he dutifully twirls under Harry’s arm, again and again until he’s as dizzy as he was at the club again and Harry has to put his hands on both his arms to steady him again.

“Why are we dancing out here in the rain, H? Haven’t we danced enough?” Louis murmurs, trying to focus on the streetlamp behind Harry’s shoulder to get the world to stop doing that spinning thing.

“’s not the same, is it?” Harry murmurs back, swaying them back and forth again – still in the middle of the freaking street, Louis suddenly remembers.

“Can we get out of the street at least?” he asks, pulling at Harry’s hand.

“I suppose,” Harry sighs, like he’s making a huge sacrifice, and lets Louis pull him towards the pavement.

Since he’s got the momentum going and Harry doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to anything that Louis’ doing, Louis just... keeps pulling him after him until they’re at the front door of his building of flats, digging through his pockets for his keys. Harry leans against the huge door tiredly, and it takes him a while to blink and look around, noticing what Louis has been doing.

“Hey,” he complains, but then Louis’s already got the door open and gently takes his hand again, pulling him inside where it’s warmer.

Not as warm as Harry was, pressed against Louis just moments ago, but warmer than Louis feels without Harry’s body heat, so it’ll have to do.

“Come on,” Louis coaxes, grabbing Harry’s wrist to pull him along and letting Harry twirl him under his arm once more when he tries since it makes him giggle and far more amenable to follow Louis up the stairs.

It’s a bit of an adventure, getting Harry to stumble up the stairs to Louis’ flat, but they manage without anyone falling over, and Louis’s sure he’s going to be even more grateful about that tomorrow morning when he’s waking up without any unnecessary bruising. He leans Harry against the wall by his door anyway while he’s unlocking it, and then guides him inside his flat with gentle hands on his waist and the back of his shoulder.

Harry’s back is really rather broad, Louis idly thinks as he watches it stumble into the darkness of his familiar flat, and chases the thought away with a flick of the light switch, bathing everything in a far too bright glow. They both squint their eyes against it and Louis toes off his shoes quickly, not wanting to drag more wetness than he absolutely has to through is flat. He doesn’t think he can get Harry’s boots off without having him sit down though, so he gently steers him further into the flat and gives him a little push so he’ll sit down on the sofa, kneeling on the floor before him.

Harry giggles.

Louis looks up at him with a quizzically raised eyebrow.

He hasn’t bothered turning on the lights in here as well, since the light spills in from the hallway, and he’s quite glad he doesn’t have to deal with the bright glare of it here, but he can see how Harry’s pupils are still a little bit dilated in his glittering eyes anyway.

“Hm?” he asks, unzipping one boot and pulling it off Harry’s foot.

“You’re on your knees by my feet,” Harry says, attempting an eyebrow waggle. It ends up looking more like a slightly lopsided caterpillar attempting to jive, but Louis snorts and shakes his head anyway. He turns towards the second boot and only looks up when he’s got it off to see Harry’s head lolled back against the backrest of the sofa, mouth open and breathing soft like he’s actually managed to fall asleep in the span of the last thirty seconds.

“Oh no, you don’t” Louis murmurs and pushes up from the floor to shake Harry a little bit.

“You’re not going to sleep without having a drink of water,” Louis insists, pulling Harry up from the sofa and through to the kitchen where he pops a vitamin tablet into a tall glass of water, and makes Harry drink the entire thing, absentmindedly watching his throat bob as he swallows.

When he’s done, Harry makes to amble back towards the couch, but Louis grabs his wrist and pulls him towards his bedroom.

“I can’t take your bed,” Harry protests, but it sounds weak, like all the exhaustion of the night is catching up with him at once and he’s about ready to fall asleep standing up.

“It sleeps two,” Louis merely says. It’s a king size, after all. Two people can comfortably sleep in his bed without even having to touch each other.

Harry mumbles something Louis doesn’t catch but strips out of his jeans and socks before crawling under the covers.

“You good?” Louis asks quietly, turning on the bedside lamp on the side Harry’s not occupying and sliding the dimmer down all the way just so he won’t bump into anything when he comes into bed in a moment himself.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs back with a smile only just pulling at the edges of his lips.

Louis reaches out to stroke a strand of hair out of Harry’s face, pushing it up over his forehead and back towards the crown of his head so it won’t bother him.

“You’re welcome,” he says and watches Harry’s features slacken with sleep as he nods off.

He gets back up from where he was crouched by the bed and goes to lock the front door and have his own glass of vitamin water on autopilot. It’s only when he sets Harry’s boots down next to his own vans by the door and feels half tempted to snap a photo of how they look sat next to each other that he suddenly realises with a jolt how very fucked he is. How very, very smitten.

He slowly thunks his head against the wall once, and then does it again, leaning against it for a moment and letting the coolness of the wall seep into his skin in the hopes it might chase off the flush high in his cheeks. This cannot be happening, but as he shuts off the light and ambles back into his bedroom he is forced to realise that it most definitely is.

Harry is starfished across almost the entirety of the bed, and Louis contemplates pulling out the couch and going to fetch the set of guest blankets for five seconds before deciding that he really can’t be bothered to do that. It’s probably closer to four in the morning now than it is to three, he is exhausted down to his bones, and he can’t be bothered caring about the boy taking up room in his bed right now. If this is how Harry sleeps, then he has to deal with the fact that he might bump into Louis. Or that Louis might shove his arms away none too gently in his sleep.

He shucks his jeans and top, pulling on the t-shirt he sleeps in, and goes for a piss before he slips into bed next to Harry, trying hard not to think about that in any other context than the one it’s happening. Before he can make it any harder on himself, he turns off the light and closes his eyes, willing sleep to take him quickly.

Mercifully, it does.

Breakfast the next morning – well, noon, really, but Louis will be damned to refer to his meal as anything other than a breakfast if it happens more or less soon after he crawls out of bed – shows that Harry is definitely worse off than Louis is himself. He’s groggy and bleary-eyed, though thankfully not nauseous, nibbling at his waffle and a bit of fruit here and there, and sipping on his tea. Louis offered him something a bit more greasy, since that’s supposed to be better for a hangover, but Harry had blanched at the idea so Louis brought out the fruit and nutella instead. At least Harry seems to have a little bit of an appetite, so it can’t be all bad, he figures.

Maybe he’s just piecing the night together and that’s why he’s so quiet. Every time Louis remembers the way Ben pretended not even to know Harry he can feel himself go quietly angry as well, after all.

“Thanks for letting me crash,” Harry says once he’s finished his entire waffle and pushed the plate away a little bit.

Louis nods at him tiredly. Just because he’s not exactly as wrung out as Harry is doesn’t mean he’s fresh as daisies either, after all. “Sure. You wouldn’t tell me where you live.”

Harry groans. “I remember that.”

Louis snorts a weak laugh. “I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Also thank you for not letting me stay in the rain. I get colds really easily,” Harry adds.

Louis makes a sympathetic tutting noise, clutching his mug of tea close and inhaling the scent of it. He can’t actually bring himself to take a sip of it yet, but just holding it is making him feel a little bit comforted, so he’s just going to... sit here and hold on to his tea.

“Did you want to have a shower or something?” Louis offers, when a minute has ticked by without either of them saying anything or making a move to do anything.

“Later maybe,” Harry says. “Kinda just want to sit quietly and not move or think right now.”

“Right. That can be arranged,” Louis says, shuffling his feet off his chair where he had his knees drawn up to his chest.

“I’m going to do my sitting and not thinking on the sofa. If you want you can join me,” he announces and then pushes himself up from his chair to drag himself to the couch. Mindful of the mug of tea he’s still holding Louis sits down carefully even though he sort of feels like just slumping down and staying in whatever crumpled up position he lands in. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t, since Harry shuffles over from the kitchen a few minutes later, curling up in the opposite corner.

Louis shuffles his body further down into the sofa so he can mimic Harry and lay his head sideways onto the backrest, staring across the space between them at the slight bruises underneath Harry’s eyes. His skin looks paler in the morning light, his pink lips a harsh contrast to the slight pallor of his complexion. Louis hopes it’s just the exhaustion and not an actual cold coming in.

Louis sort of wants to turn on some sort of music, because the silence of the flat is becoming more and more unbearable to him with every passing moment that he’s staring at Harry’s closed eyes and his lashes fanned out over his cheeks, but he can’t muster the energy to get up from his place on the sofa. And the idea of actually having to listen to any sort of music right now sort of makes him want to put his hands over his ears and whimper a bit, so it’s probably a good thing that he doesn’t anyway.

The only thing is that it makes him talk instead.

“So, last night... happened,” he said.

Harry huffs a breath that Louis can only identify as amused because his lips curl with it, even as his eyes stay closed.

“My headache agrees with that assessment.”

“D’you want a paracetamol?” Louis offers.

Harry moves his head from side to side the littlest bit. “No. Makes me nauseous, especially on a hung over stomach.”

“Sucks,” Louis comments, glad his own body didn’t reject the pain meds this morning. He’s already faring much better, now that they’re properly kicking in. He’ll probably have a shower and then go back to bed for a while, he thinks.

“D’you want to talk about it?” he asks then.

Harry blinks his tired eyes open, squinting at Louis. “My headache?” he asks, confusion heavy in his voice.

“Last night,” Louis corrects. “Ben.”

Harry’s expression immediately shutters, closing down into a grumpy frown. “No.”

“Harry...” Louis prods.

Harry only glares at him more fiercely and then shuts his eyes. “No.”

Louis licks his lips and swallows heavily, tips of his fingers going cold and a small lump sitting at the back of his throat.

“It’s not working,” he says gently.

Harry huffs an annoyed sigh and opens his eyes back up, eyebrows still furrowed in a vicious frown.

“Really? Now?” Harry asks, admittedly looking like a miserable, wet kitten more than he does and adult capable of having a conversation like this.

Louis hesitates.

“We can talk about it later if you’d rather.”

“I’d rather never,” Harry mumbles, stubbornly letting his eyes fall shut again.

Louis sighs and takes a sip of his tea instead of saying something. Maybe he should let Harry get a bit more sleep. A shower. Wait till his headache eases up a bit.

“Later it is,” Louis says, and stretches his legs out so he can get up from the sofa.

“Are you angry at me?” Harry asks, disbelief and annoyance heavy in his voice, staring up at Louis.

“No, of course not. You’re right, I shouldn’t have brought it up while you’re still trying to get your bearings,” Louis says, reaching down a hand to pass through Harry’s hair.

Harry eyes flutter as his face relaxes, and he tilts his head into the touch. Louis does it again, passing his hand back through Harry’s hair. It’s tangled and a bit greasy from sleep, but still soft and Louis smiles to himself a little.

“We do have to talk about it though,” Louis points out a few heartbeats later.

Harry sighs deeply and looks up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“I know,” he says, defeated.

“But you can get some more sleep first, if you want,” Louis offers.

“Can I just have head scratches?” Harry asks back, scooting down further onto the sofa.

Louis’s about to offer up his bed again, but then decides against it. Harry doesn’t seem like he’s very inclined to move, so he just drags over a chair to sit down on and moves his fingers back to Harry’s hair.

“Sure,” he says, stroking the hair away from Harry’s face the same way he does when one of his little sisters is ill, passing his fingers over that spot between Harry’s eyebrows that always makes his sisters’ eyes flutter shut. It does the same thing to Harry, and Louis stamps down the urge to hum him some sort of lullaby. Nevertheless it’s not long before Harry’s breath evens out into soft little huffs again, indicating that he’s fallen back asleep.

With nothing really to do, Louis decides to tidy up the kitchen and his bedroom a little bit, getting rid of the bits of laundry and such he’d hid from his mother the previous morning, before he gets into the shower to wash the rest of the club off his skin and hair. Harry’s still asleep by the time Louis’s done, so he grabs the book he’s currently reading from his bedside table and settles on top of his bed with it in his lap.

Louis gets a sizeable chunk further into the book by the time he can hear the tell tale rustling signifying that Harry’s getting up. There’s a groan that probably means that Harry still doesn’t feel 100%, and then a few tentative steps that probably mean Harry’s looking for him.

“Bedroom!” Louis calls out to him.

Harry shuffles into the room dragging his feet on the floor, eyes small, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand.

“How long was I asleep?” he asks, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His voice sounds like it’s being dragged over gravel.

“Just under two hours,” Louis says with a gentle smile. “Feel better?”

“Well, I don’t feel worse,” Harry concedes and tries for an answering smile.

“You’re welcome to another shower, if you want. And I can lend you a t-shirt or something. I don’t think my jeans’ll fit you.”

“Yeah, thanks. That’d be great,” Harry says and hides a huge yawn behind the back of his hand. Louis waves towards the bathroom in what is meant to be invitation. Harry’s had a shower here just yesterday; Louis’s sure he remembers where everything is.

Louis reads a few more pages while Harry’s in the shower, only looking up when Harry stumbles back out of the bathroom. He’s put his jeans back on, but has his shirt balled up in his hand, the tips of his hair wet from where he couldn’t entirely keep it out of the water’s way and dripping down onto his naked shoulders. Louis tries very hard not to notice that Harry’s sculpted like he belongs onto the cover of a fitness magazine and that his entire torso is littered with an array of very interesting tattoos, and just waves a hand at his closet instead.

“Just pick something,” he says.

Harry smiles at him, looking more awake than he has all morning, and then rummages through Louis’ selection of t-shirts. He pulls on Louis’ football shirt, which is probably a good idea, since it’s too broad over Louis’ shoulders and thus sits comfortably on Harry’s, but even though it technically fits Harry better, it looks strangely more out of place on him than it does Louis.

“You play?” Harry asks, pulling at the fabric hanging over his chest a little bit.

“Pub team,” Louis confirms with a nod, sliding his bookmark back into the book and leaning over to the bedside table to put it back down.

“I’m rubbish at it,” Harry confesses and sinks down onto the empty side of the bed heavily, one leg folded underneath him and one still dangling down to the floor, like he’s keeping his exits open.

A moment passes in which neither of them say anything.

“Harry,” Louis starts, voice heavy with all the things he knows need saying.

Harry sighs and runs a hand down over his face. “I know, I know. It’s not working and Ben is a dick and I should just drop him.”

Well. Yes. Only Louis wouldn’t have put it exactly like that.

“He’s not worth it, Harry,” Louis says. “You do realise that, yes? Even if there is something he’s struggling with, the way he ignored you yesterday was absolutely not okay at all.”

“I know,” Harry mumbles.

“I shouldn’t have suggested this, it was probably a stupid idea from beginning to end,” Louis says, shrugging self-deprecatingly.

Harry gives a humourless chuckles. “It’s not like I couldn’t have turned your offer down. This is still on me.”

“No, it’s on Ben. Who is a gigantic bag of dicks, from what I can tell.”

Harry frowns at him a little but doesn’t argue. Louis doesn’t push.

“Look, if you want, I’m walking you to Ben’s front door tomorrow and making sure he can’t get away so you can talk it out. I’ll bring Liam, he’s buff,” Louis says with a small smile.

Harry’s lips twitch into an answering one briefly, but it’s more of a formality before they settle back into their frown.

“He lives in Manchester. I mean, he’s moving to London, I think, but... last we spoke he still lived in Manchester.”

Louis refrains from asking how many times a week he took the trip to London when he kept popping into the gallery to see Harry – especially if that’s not something he usually does – and sighs instead.

“Alright. Well. If there’s anything I can do...”

“No. This is not... it’s not your issue to deal with. Thanks for the help, Louis, but... I need to think this over, yeah?” Harry says, pushing himself up from the bed.

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Louis says, getting up as well when Harry goes to move from the room, picking up his shopping bag from yesterday where he’d put his own shirts.

Harry reaches for the hem of the shirt as if to take it off, but Louis holds out a hand to stop him.

“No, it’s okay. Just give it back some other time,” he says, squashing the hysterical thought that he’s maybe just trying to give Harry an excuse – an obligation, really – to come back, or at least contact Louis somehow.

“Okay,” Harry says and ambles through the living room to pick up his things before sitting down heavily in the hallway to pull on his boots.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer? I’ll put us on a pizza and we can watch the second Captain America or something,” Louis suggests.

Harry smiles up at him weakly and shakes his head a little. “Thanks, but... I think I need to be by myself a bit.”

Louis nods. “Sure. If you need... anything...”

Harry pushes himself back up from the floor and pats down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything before giving Louis’ biceps a squeeze.

“Thanks for yesterday. And... today. And in general,” he says.

Louis shrugs it off with a small smile and reaches past Harry to unlock the door. “Of course.”

“See you around then,” Harry says and gives a little wave before he steps outside and makes for the stairs without turning around again.

Louis watches him walk down half of the first flight before he feels creepy and closes the door, leaning his forehead against the inside of it to take two steadying breaths. He is definitely, definitely fucked.

“So basically you’ve got a crush on your fake boyfriend, which is a terrible thing because he’s still hung up on his scumbag of an ex,” Niall sums up, offering the bag of crisps to Louis again.

Louis reaches in for a handful, and nods slowly. “That about sums it up.”

It’s quite obvious that Niall’s trying not to laugh out loud at Louis, but Louis appreciates the effort.

“I’m not going to say I told you so, because I did not in fact tell you so, but I just want it on record that I knew this would happen,” Niall says, before going for more crisps himself.

“How on Earth did you know this would happen?” Louis asks.

“This is exactly the kind of thing that would happen to you. Remember how you and Keith got together? You both wanted that research assistant position and kept trying to sabotage and one-up each other until that professor gave it to both of you, and you had to work together and he asked you out halfway through summer term,” Niall says.

Louis grunts his agreement. Looking at it like that it does sound a bit ridiculous.

“And what was it with Eleanor? Your amazon orders got misfiled in halls, and you kept having to go over to give her her packages until she developed an interest in your package.”

Louis is about to interrupt because Niall’s putting it quite crudely, but Eleanor and he did fool around for a few weeks before they started going out.

“Face it, Tommo, your life’s a bit of a cliché. Falling for your fake boyfriend is right up your alley.”

Louis groans and scoots down further into the sofa. “My life is a series of improbably rom com moments without the happy end. That doesn’t quite seem fair.”

“No need to go all maudlin on me, mate. You don’t know how this whole Harry thing’s going to play out. Just give him a bit of space.”

Louis whines a bit but reaches for more crisps instead of giving an answer.

“He’s just gotten royally fucked over by that arse. He’ll need to get his bearings and such,” Niall says wisely.

“When did you get to be relationship guru?” Louis teases, poking Niall in the side and earning himself a ruffle of his hair, probably with the hand that’s full of grease and salt from the crisps.

“You have no idea how much Liam worries,” Niall sighs.

Louis laughs loudly, because he does, in fact, have an idea about how much Liam worries about doing something wrong in his relationships.

“So I wait,” Louis sighs.

“Yep, you wait,” Niall confirms, and then pats his thigh consolingly and offers up the packet of crisps again.

When Louis has waved goodbye to the last Little Actor on Monday after reassuring all of them that, yes, there was going to be another rehearsal on Wednesday before their performance, there’s a text from Harry waiting for him on his phone. Despite how exhausted he just felt there’s a surge of energy bolting through him at it and he grins down at his phone as he swipes his thumb over the screen to unlock it and bring the message up.

‘I’ve got your shirt if you want to come pick it up,’ it says, accompanied by a footballer emoji and a smiley face.

Louis, as it so happens, does want to come pick it up. (Well, he wants to go see Harry.)

‘I’m just leaving so I’ll be over in a few,’ he texts back and waves at Liam across the courtyard as he swings his bag onto his shoulder.

The tube ride is short as always and Louis spends it listening to music and telling himself to calm down because nothing has changed. Nothing other than him having realised he’s a bit infatuated with Harry, but Niall’s right and Louis already knew that anyway. Harry’s got enough on his plate without having to deal with Louis’ feelings as well, so he’s going to bite his tongue and be a friend and wait a little.

When he gets to the gallery, Jade waves at him from behind the café counter, but Harry’s not behind his own counter like he usually is. Instead there’s a lad approximately their age with short black hair, tan skin, and a face that surely must be a practical joke. Even without his infatuation Louis would be able to say that Harry’s quite an attractive lad, but this man here truly takes the cake.

Louis falters a little and in his confusion looks over at Jade, who has apparently been watching him and is silently laughing at him but also giving him a commiserating nod as if to say ‘yeah, he’s real, I see him too’. Louis’s not sure whether or not to approach the man, though he is stood behind the counter, so he thinks it’s safe to assume he works here, when the Adonis looks up and his eyes settle on him. Louis moves forward automatically.

“Louis?” Adonis asks.

“Er, yeah?” Louis says.

“’m Zayn,” Adonis – Zayn – says and holds out a hand for Louis to shake when he’s close enough. “Harry had to go take care of a few things for the event thing Friday, so he asked me to give you this.”

He hands Louis the bag he recognises from their shop at the market on Saturday. Louis assumes it’s his shirt and tries his hardest not to feel disappointed that he doesn’t get to see Harry himself today. He refuses to believe that this is Harry’s way of gently pushing him back out of his life. Especially given Harry’s incredibly recent experience with that particular tactic he just doesn’t believe that’s something Harry would do.

“Alright. Thanks, mate,” Louis says, giving Zayn a smile and taking a step back to leave again.

“Also,” Zayn says, gluing Louis’ feet to the floor. “Thanks for telling H you wouldn’t play along with this thing any longer. I told him it was time to give it up as well, and I think it’s probably good that he heard it from two sides, y’know?”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, it obviously wasn’t going anywhere,” Louis says.

Zayn nods slowly. “Yeah. Plus, Ben is a dick and Harry needs to drop him, like, yesterday.”

Louis chuckles a bit. “That’s pretty much the impression I got as well, yeah.”

“Never liked him much, to be honest, but... well. Yeah. Not my place,” Zayn says with a small smile. “Just thanks for helping H out and all.”

“Sure. He’s a good lad,” Louis shrugs.

“That he is,” Zayn says with an imperious nod.

“Well, alright. I’ll be off then,” Louis announces, taking another step backwards.

“Will you be there on Friday?” Zayn asks.

“If Harry wants me there,” Louis says.

Zayn nods a bit more, a calculating look in his eyes that Louis takes as his cue to wave at Zayn and over at Jade before turning around to leave.

As it turns out, Harry does want him there.

He texts later in the afternoon to apologise for not being there at lunchtime and does Louis want to go for lunch on Wednesday and will Harry be seeing him at the thing on Friday?

‘Can’t do Wednesday, sorry! Dress rehearsals all day and the performance in the afternoon. I’ll be there on Friday though,’ Louis sends back.

‘Oooh, break a leg!’ Harry answers and Louis tries hard not to be disappointed.

It’s just that Harry’s got a lot on his plate right now, what with Ben and that book launch he’s organising for Friday. Louis knows this, he’s up to his ears in last minute preparations and corrections and averting of disasters himself, and he’s only putting on a theatre performance with a bunch of children. Louis really doesn’t envy Harry having to deal with caterers and florists and decorators and whatever else needs to be taken care of for events like the one he’s putting on.

So instead of moping around he calls Liam and invites him over so they can work on the costumes for their respective Wednesday performances together. Sometime into the evening Niall joins them with pizza and beer and Louis stops thinking about Friday and Harry for a few hours.

Wednesday afternoon find Louis frazzled and almost at his wit’s end when, thirty minutes before the performance, Pippa has inexplicably lost her tree crown, Amanda has ripped two of the petals off her flower head set and Felix is shaking in the corner swearing up and down that he won’t go on stage. It’s always like this, every single year, and it always turns out alright every single year, but that doesn’t mean that Louis doesn’t feel like he earns himself a new grey streak every single years as well. (Despite the fact that not a single strand of his hair has turned grey so far. It’s more that if it did, Louis would not be surprised.)

“Okay. Pippa, go check if you’ve maybe left it in the bathroom when you went to the loo earlier, alright? And Amanda, go see Emily, she’ll be able to help you with your petals,” he says and shoos the girls off with a gentle smile, before turning to kneel by Felix’ side.

“Why do you not want to go on stage?” he asks, putting a hand on Felix’ shoulder.

Felix shrugs, but his eyes are wide and wet, and he looks about two seconds from crying.

“Are you not having fun?” Louis asks. Felix has always loved rehearsals, loud and boisterous and waving his wooden axe about far more than was strictly necessary.

“Don’t know,” Felix mumbles. “I’m gonna mess up.”

Louis hums and sits down on the floor with Felix, pulling his hand back and taking the opportunity to stretch his legs and just sit for a for seconds.

“D’you know, when I was in school I did this play once. I was meant to climb up a balcony to a girl’s window, yeah?” Louis says.

Felix furrows his brow like he doesn’t really see the point of that, but he’s listening, so Louis counts it as a win.

“So I walk on stage and I say my lines and I go to climb the balcony, only it hadn’t been set up properly, so just as I walk over it suddenly falls over and almost hits me on the head,” Louis says.

Felix’ eyes go wide as saucers. “What did you do?”

“Made something up about how I couldn’t climb up and how maybe the girl could come downstairs instead, and luckily the girl who was acting with me pretended to do that, so we could just go on as normal,” Louis says.

“Can you do that?” Felix asks, eyes still wide. “Just make something up even though you didn’t rehearse it?”

“If you have to, yeah. The audience thought it was funny anyway,” Louis says. “Mind you, I thought I was going to die, because the balcony almost hit me on the head and then I was so nervous!”

“So do you think if I mess up, I can just make something up later?” Felix asks.

Louis is a little apprehensive about allowing it, but if Felix messes up, there will probably be chaos anyway, so he might as well.

“Sure,” he says. “So long as you do it in a way that doesn’t confuse anyone else.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, if you’re going to make up that you’re fighting a dragon, say ‘Oh! There’s a dragon! I’ll have to fight it!’ and then everyone else will know to play along with you, yeah?”

Also, if Louis is lucky he’s planted that particular idea into Felix’ head and if he does mess up and go for it, Louis can go on stage pretending to be the dragon and try and get everything back in order.

Felix nods. “Okay.”

“But you’re probably not going to mess up, you did really well in rehearsals, remember?” Louis says, tickling his tummy a little to make him giggle.

Felix nods again and the colour thankfully returns to his cheeks.

“Okay. Well, get Emily to sort out your hat then, I think you’re missing a feather,” Louis says, watching him go.

Crisis averted, Louis goes back to helping trees and flowers into their costumes, reminding the trees not to move too much unless they’re singing their ‘Swaying In the Wind’ song, and the flowers that they need to start off circling left, otherwise they’ll trip over each other if they don’t all go in the same direction. The kids are all wide eyed and excited, chattering and laughing and running back and forth to the curtain hiding the stage from few to check if their parents or siblings or grandparents have arrived yet.

The hush that falls over them all when Louis tells them to wait by the side of the stage and goes out to introduce the play and do his thank-you-for-coming spiel is probably Louis’ favourite thing. Not because they’re finally quiet, but because in that moment they’re all so excited to show off what they’ve been rehearsing for a month now. Not that they’ve not probably sung all the songs at home over and over and annoyed their parents to no end, but this is their official moment to shine, and the energy condensed in their small bodies hangs almost palpably in the air.

After the first smattering of polite applause, Louis goes backstage again and ushers his trees and flowers onto the stage to sing their first little song about nothing exciting ever happening in the woods. It goes off without a hitch and even earns a few laughs at the cleverer lines that probably go over the kids’ heads but amuse their parents. Little Red and her mother say their lines about being careful on the way to grandmother’s house and Louis gives Thomas a high five when he runs backstage again for a job well done.

Little Red and the flowers do their little dance routine as Little Red ‘plucks’ the flowers, grabbing the first one by the hand, the second flower holding onto the first one’s hand and so on, and leading them through the woods. Emily is giving Louis a thumbs up from the side of stage at the other side of their little stage, and Louis beams back.

The wolf does his scene with Grandmother and then Little Red, gobbling them both up by hiding them behind his skinny little shoulders. Grandmother is waving at her parents from behind the wolf’s back and Little Red grabs her hand back and hisses at her that she’s supposed to be inside the wolf’s belly and can’t wave at anyone right now.

“You’ll do great,” Louis assures Felix before sending him on stage with a pat to the back.

Felix does his first bit about how it’s a lovely day for a stroll in the woods flawlessly, but when he comes upon the wolf with Grandmother and Little Red crouched behind him, he falters. Louis crosses his fingers and holds his breath, only releasing it when Felix looks over to him and beams at him, clearly over his stage fright.

“Oh no! A dragon!” Felix yells and Louis groans.

Confused mumbling breaks out in the audience.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbles, vowing to himself he’ll never tell the kids anything but platitudes ever again.

Emily’s eye are wide as she mouths a frantic “what?” at Louis, who grabs a green scarf from the costume box that’s stood by the side of stage for emergencies and ties two corners around his neck, grabbing the other two in his hands and waving his arms around so they’ll make wings when he swoops out onto the stage.

Louis runs out making whooshing sounds and a little girl in the front row actually gasps and slaps her hands over her mouth.

“What a lovely day for a snack!” Louis says loud and clear. “Let’s see if I can find something to eat!”

He runs through the trees to smile encouragingly at them all, since they’re all staring at him with wide, confused eyes before stopping next to the wolf.

“Well! I think this wolf would make a lovely meal!” he says.

“No!” a little voice pipes up in the audience. The kids all know Little Red Riding Hood’s story, so they weren’t overly worried about the wolf eating her, but apparently the addition of a dragon is making them a little bit nervous. Louis loves kids.

He growls loudly and spreads his arms wide, wrapping them around the wolf and as much of Little Red and Grandmother as he can.

“Haha! There’s not a huntsman anywhere to be seen who could defeat me!” he says loudly, hoping it’ll prompt Felix into doing what he was supposed to do all along.

It does.

“Yes, there is!” Felix calls, running up behind Louis and climbing up onto his back to hit him – gently, thankfully – with the wooden axe.

“Oh no! Oh no!” Louis groans and shakes Felix off just as gently before he dramatically stumbles to the side and falls onto his back. “I’m defeated!”

“I’ve defeated the dragon!” Felix announces proudly to the audience, to a few cheers from their smallest audience members.

“You still need to defeat the wolf!” Little Red pipes up from behind the wolf, and Louis bites down on his lip to keep from laughing.

Felix turns back around, grumbling “I know” lowly enough that the audience maybe didn’t hear, although the chuckles from the front row tell a different story, and sets about hacking away at the wolf as well.

“Oh no! Oh no!” the wolf copies Louis, although it’s not what they rehearsed, stumbling over and falling down onto his belly heavily enough that he can’t keep in the groan at it.

“I’m defeated too!” she calls with a bit of a giggle in her voice. She’s beaming up at Louis like she’s very proud of herself, so Louis wraps an arm around her before he goes back to playing dead.

For a few moments nothing happens, so Louis pokes Grandmother with his foot.

“Do the end,” he hisses.

Grandmother, thankfully, says her bit about being more careful around wolves, and then all the kids hold hands and sing about listening to their mothers and such, much to Louis’ relief. Jenny seems very smug where she’s splayed out on top of Louis that she gets to sit this one out. Louis taps her nose when the song is done and the applause is picking up, making her scramble off him.

He makes them all hold hands in a line, like they practiced, prompting them to bow several times, before ushering them back behind the stage to take off their costumes before they go running to their parents. There’s always even more chaos after their performances as the kids tear off their costumes and go searching for their parents half-dressed. Louis has long since learned to let the first rush of adrenaline run its course before he attempts to establish something resembling order again. Instead he helps Emily collect the parts of the costumes that belong to the Little Actors Program to put away in boxes as quickly as possible, so maybe they’ll stay more or less unharmed and can be reused for another play.

“Interesting addition,” she grins at him when he brings her the first arm full of flower head sets.

He groans and shakes his head. “I’m never giving these kids the advice to improv if they mess up again.”

“I didn’t even see him mess up,” she says, amused.

“He didn’t! I think he just liked the idea of adding a dragon. Not enough monster fighting in Little Red Riding Hood, apparently,” Louis shrugs, making her laugh.

“Well, you were a very convincing impromptu dragon.”

“Thanks, I’ve got practice,” he winks at her, before turning to the kid pulling at his t-shirt.

“Mr. Louis, I’m leaving,” Amanda says.

“Oh, goodbye, sweetheart. Did you have a good time?” he asks.

She beams and nods enthusiastically.

“I liked the dragon,” she beams.

“Thank you! You were a very good flower,” Louis says.

“Thank you, Mr. Louis. And thank you for helping with my costume, Ms. Emily!”

“Of course, love,” Emily smiles, and then they both wave at her before she turns around and bolts back over to her smiling mother, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and steers her out.

Louis gets swept up in goodbyes then, kids crowding around him to ask about the dragon, and why they didn’t rehears it if that was in the play, and how they didn’t know there was a dragon in this story, and how come mum never tells the story this way? He’s trying his best to explain how stories can change depending on who’s telling them, and how he didn’t know that Felix was going to put a dragon in the story and he didn’t mean to keep it a secret from everyone, but mostly he just gets confused little faces staring at him until their parents pull them away, promising to explain later over dinner. At least none of the parents seem to mind their little improv – on the contrary, some of them even congratulate him on it.

“It really was a very impressive dragon,” Louis suddenly hears Harry say behind him, whirling around.

“Harry!” he says, surprise slackening his face. “What are you doing here?”

Harry’s got one hand on a girl’s shoulder, looking down at her briefly before smiling at Louis again.

“Lux and I went for ice cream yesterday and I told her about my friend who does acting with kids in the summer, and she wanted to come see the performance,” he explains.

Lux nods excitedly.

“I love Little Red Riding Hood, it’s my favourite!” she says. “Can I be in it as well?”

“Well, we’re already done for this summer,” Louis says gently, wincing a bit as Lux’ face falls. “But you know what? A friend of mine, Donald, has a theatre group for kids your age that put on plays all through the school year. Do you think you’d like to do that?”

Lux’ eyes widen and she nods slowly. “All year?”

“Yep. There’s a performance for Christmas and one for spring and then at the end of the school year in summer. And then you can come join us for the summer, if you want,” Louis says.

“Can I, Uncle Harry?” she turns around to ask, grabbing Harry’s shirt and pulling at it. “Oh, please, please, please, please, please!”

Harry laughs and disentangles her fingers from his shirt. “We’ll have to ask your mum, Luxie, you know that.”

Lux sighs heavily and turns back around with a frown.

“How about I give your uncle Harry all the information you need and then you and he can explain it to your mum, hm?” Louis suggests, smiling down at her.

She looks at him suspiciously for a few moments, but then shrugs and nods. “Okay.”

Louis jogs over to the table they’ve got set up with a whole lot of flyers for all the summer activities they offer, as well as some other programs that offer acting and gymnastics during the school year. He scans the rows for the light blue one he’s looking for, before hurrying back over to Harry and his sort-of-god-daughter.

“Here,” he says, handing the single sheet flyer over to Harry. “It’s just a regular kids’ acting troupe, but I know the bloke who started it and he’s really good with kids. All the info’s on there or their homepage.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, folding the flyer up and pushing it into his back pocket.

“We’ll let you get back to it then,” Harry says, gesturing at the kids stood a way behind Louis, obviously unsure about approaching him when they see him chatting to someone they’ve never seen before.

Louis winks at them before turning back around to Harry and Lux.

“It was nice to meet you, Lux,” he says, holding out a hand to her which she shakes firmly.

“You too,” she says. “There’s no dragon in Little Red Riding Hood, though.”

Louis laughs. “We made that up.”

She doesn’t look entirely on board with the idea, but Louis’s going to let Harry explain the mutable nature of stories to her.

“I’ll see you Friday then?” Harry asks, already half turned away.

Louis nods. “Yep. I’ll be there at seven on the dot.”

“Till Friday then,” Harry smiles, and Louis fights down the butterflies and his own smile that wants to go beaming wide in answer.

“Till Friday,” he agrees, and turns around to the kids he knows are waiting for him so he won’t be tempted to stare after Harry like an idiot.

On Friday at seven pm on the dot Louis walks up to the gallery in black skinny jeans, shiny shoes and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up because it is still summer and too warm to be buttoned up completely. It feels a little circular, given that it's the type of thing he was wearing when he met Harry as well. Jade is just wedging a stopper underneath the door so it won’t fall shut, dressed in a pretty black cocktail dress with her hair up in an elegant bun at the base of her neck.

“Hiya Louis,” she greets as she straightens back up. “You look handsome.”

“Thanks. You’re quite stunning yourself,” he says, returning the bisous she leans in to greet him with.

“Harry’ll probably be around fussing with the catering,” she says and then waves him in.

Louis nods his thanks at her and takes his time looking around the gallery. The official part of the event is set to start at half seven, so there aren’t that many people here yet, stood around in clusters and chatting among themselves. Louis’s never actually been further inside than the gift shop, so he grabs a flute of sparkling wine and goes to look around.

There are high tables set up for people to stand around out here in the gift shop and café area, but the stage is set up in the next room over, where the actual art starts. Louis assumes the split is so there’s no risk of any of the food messing up any of the art. He empties his glass in two long sips and sets it down at one of the deserted tables for someone to come pick up, and then goes to have a look around at the photography displayed on the walls in the stage room.

Harry finds him approximately fifteen minutes later, sidling up to him with a quiet “hi, there”.

“Hi,” Louis says as he looks up from the photograph he was studying.

Harry’s looking particularly handsome tonight, hair pulled back into a neat bun and skinny jeans paired with a smart shirt. Louis’s almost sad to see it doesn’t have any ridiculous print or embroidery detail, but he understands that for some work events Harry’s attire of choice just might not be appropriate. And anyway, the light blue of his shirt is doing wonders for his complexion and eyes, and he has left more buttons unbuttoned than is maybe considered entirely appropriate, so Louis isn’t about to complain.

“Everything going well?” Louis asks.

Harry sighs the sigh of someone who still has a lot of things to worry about they have little influence over.

“So far, yeah,” he says.

“It’ll be great,” Louis assures him.

The whole set up looks incredibly tasteful – elegant and simple without being boring, and Louis has absolutely no doubt that if Harry can pull that off, he can organise the rest of the event so it’ll go off without a hitch as well.

“I’m going to talk to Ben tonight,” Harry murmurs quietly, shuffling a little bit closer.

Louis raises a surprised eyebrow.

“He has to be here and I’ll just... drag him away and make him talk,” Harry says.

“Okay,” Louis says. “I’ll be... around.”

Harry smiles at him a little thinly and nods his thanks, before running a hand over his hair and squeezing at his bun.

“I need to go make sure everything’s in order and then get everyone settled so we can start, but I’ll see you afterwards?” he says.

Louis nods easily. “Sure. Don’t let me keep you.”

Harry smiles again and gives Louis’ forearm a small squeeze before bustling off.

The room starts to fill with people soon after and Louis makes sure to shuffle towards the back, seeing as he doesn’t really have a clue what all of this is about. He finds Zayn and Jade chatting close by the door and decides to join them. They both smile at him in welcome, but before they can strike up some sort of conversation, a gangly guy with floppy hair that Louis’s never seen before hops on stage and calls for quiet before he starts introducing the guest of honour, a woman called Meredith who is apparently publishing a book, and launching a line of beauty and home products.

There are speeches by Meredith and some of her colleagues and friends, and Louis claps at all the appropriate places. It’s not the dullest of these things he’s ever attended, but none of them are ever particularly interesting either. Especially when you don’t even know any of the people involved and aren’t particularly interested in the topic. Sure, Louis’s all for organic and fair trade beauty products, but he can’t say it’s a massive passion of his.

He spots Ben hovering somewhere near the stage and glares over at him, sharing a dark look with Jade and Zayn.

“Did Harry tell you he’d talk to him today?” Zayn bends his head close ask in a low murmur.

Louis nods and pulls a grimace. Zayn grimaces back. Good to know they’re on the same page about it, then.

The event does go off without a hitch and when the end of all the speeches has been reached, Meredith hops up on stage and calls Harry up to thank him for all the splendid work he did on such short notice. Apparently they’d had to cancel their original plans with another venue, and Harry had pulled everything together in far less time than is usually common for these types of things. Harry is appropriately bashful and says a few words about how it’s been his pleasure and he enjoyed putting together the launch for such a wonderful thing she’s doing. Meredith is clearly tickled pink, beaming at him. There’s another smattering of polite applause, and then Harry informs everyone that there would be food and drinks served in the front room, prompting people from the room.

Zayn, Jade and Louis are among the first ones through the door, and Jade and Zayn excuse themselves when they spot a group of three girls chatting at one of the high tables near the entrance. Jade bounces over to them happily, Zayn following at a more leisurely pace. They’re clearly all friends, or possibly more, given the way the blonde wraps her arm around Zayn’s waist and pecks him on the lips.

Louis moves towards the side, deciding to hang back until Harry comes to find him and pulls his phone out to check he hasn’t missed anything terribly important.

‘All good?’ Niall has texted and Louis grins down at it and types out a swift reply.

‘So far so good.’

He plays a few rounds of 2048, snagging canapés off a tray whenever someone passes him and waits for Harry to come find him.

“What did you think?” Harry asks, sidling up to him.

Louis grins as he looks up at him, closing the game, and letting his phone slide back into his jeans pocket.

“One of the best book launches I’ve ever been to,” Louis says.

Harry smiles fondly and arches an eyebrow. “Go to lots of those?”

“I have been to one before,” Louis insists, making Harry laugh.

“I’m just glad I got the worst part of the evening over with. Now as long as there’s nothing wrong with the food or cleanup, it’ll be fine,” Harry says.

“I’m sure it’ll all be perfect,” Louis says, trying to work out if it’d be excessive to reach out to hug Harry or something. It’s not really a hugging situation, is it? It’s just that Louis wants to hug Harry.

“Your word in god’s ear,” Harry says, letting his shoulders slump a bit with exhaustion and a relief of tension.

“Harry?” Meredith says, making them both turn around to find her... snuggled up into Ben’s side, with his arm around her, and a box of what seems to be chocolates in her hands.

Meredith is beaming at Harry, and Louis automatically takes a step closer to him.

“Meredith,” Harry says, voice wavering only the slightest bit. He clears his throat to cover it up and smiles at her.

“I just wanted to say thank you again,” she says. “You did such an incredibly marvellous job. Juliette recommended you when everything was falling apart with the old venue and Ben said he knew you as well and, just... I really couldn’t have hoped for anything better.”

She holds the box of chocolates out to Harry, who only stares at them.

Louis reaches to take them from her and smiles at her.

“Louis,” he introduces himself and shakes her hand. It seems to startle Harry out of his confusion, at least. He winds an arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulls him closer, smiling down at him before turning back to Meredith and Ben.

“Juliette? Kettlesworth?” he asks.

Meredith nods enthusiastically.

“Oh, that’s very kind of her. How are the kids? Two, right?” Harry asks politely, though Louis can feel his fingers shake a little where they’re holding on to him.

“Yes! Great memory. They’re all doing fine, thank you,” Meredith says. “I hope you like the chocolates. Ben said they’re your favourites.”

Louis glances down at the box of Belgian pralines in his hand and suddenly feels the urge to squash them under his shiny shoes.

“They are. Thank you,” Harry says.

“Oh, it’s absolutely the least I could do. It really is all so perfect. The food especially. Three people have already commented on how amazing it is!” Meredith gushes. “You don’t do weddings as well, do you?”

She’s clearly teasing, giggling at them, but Louis’ – and probably Harry’s – gaze zeroes in on the sparkling ring on her finger and the way she and Ben are snuggled up together. He adds two and two together and ends up with a steaming pile of horse manure that he would quite like to see Ben suffocate in.

“You’re engaged?” he blurts.

Meredith laughs and holds out her ring like he asked to see it.

“Only recently; about two months now,” she says while Louis politely inspects the ring so as not to blow Harry’s thin veneer of composure.

Two months. So around the time Ben started ignoring Harry.

“Congratulations,” Harry smiles. “No wonder we’ve seen so little of Ben recently.”

He winks at Meredith and she titters happily.

Louis smiles thinly and wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, turning to address him.

“I’m a bit flushed, do you think you could take me outside for a bit of air?” he asks, and then turns back to Meredith. “Terribly sorry. I don’t think I should’ve had that second glass of bubbly on an empty stomach.”

Meredith waves him off with a laugh and takes a step back.

“Oh, we don’t want to keep you. I just meant to thank Harry again.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Harry says and shakes her hand again before grabbing hold of Louis more firmly. “If you’ll excuse us?”

“Of course, of course,” Meredith says.

“Have a lovely evening, you two,” Louis says before turning with Harry and letting him steer him behind the café counter and further back through the kitchen, and out the back door.

Harry stumbles away from him as soon as the door falls shut, taking in a huge, gasping gulp of air.

“I didn’t know!” he whirls around to say to Louis, ripping the hair tie that’s holding his hair in place off, and raking a hand through his loose hair. “I promise I didn’t know, Louis, I would never-”

“Hey, hey, hey, no. I know. I know you wouldn’t,” Louis says, stepping forwards and gently pulling Harry’s hand out of his hair, holding it in his own.

Harry gives a humourless laugh. “Guess I don’t need to confront Ben anymore.”

Louis bites down on his lips harshly, and drops the box of chocolates he’s still holding so he can wrap both arms around Harry. Harry crumbles into the embrace, clinging to Louis’ back and burying his face in Louis’ neck. Louis sways them back and forth a bit, even as Harry’s taking deep breaths and trying his best not to cry.

“I’m going to have to tell her,” he mumbles. “God, I’m going to have to tell her, won’t I?”

“Not tonight. You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Louis says, stroking a hand up and down Harry’s warm back soothingly.

“I just don’t understand...” Harry mumbles. “We have mutual friends. How did no one tell me? How did no one know?”

“Not your responsibility, Hazza,” Louis says quietly. “You couldn’t have known. This is all 100% on him, okay?”

Harry nods into Louis’ neck, holding himself close and sways back and forth with Louis for a bit until his breathing returns to normal. He sniffs and wipes at his eyes when he does stand back up, but in the darkness outside Louis can’t tell if he’s been crying or not.

“Fucking chocolates,” Harry mumbles. “I can’t believe him.”

Louis looks down at the box, a little bit dented from where he dropped it onto the concrete, and very deliberately places his foot on it.

“Oops,” he says, looking up at Harry to gauge his reaction.

Harry looks lost in surprise for a moment, before he gives a startled laugh.

“I don’t want them anyway,” he says, planting his own foot next to Louis’s, squashing the box thoroughly.

Harry sighs deeply, and pulls his hair back up into a bun.

“I have to go back in,” he says, sounding like he’d like nothing less. “I have to make sure the rest of the night goes smoothly.”

Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and smiles encouragingly up at him.

“Good thing you’ve got your fake boyfriend to keep you company.”

Harry smiles at him a little tiredly. “Good thing,” he agrees.

Louis lets Harry lead them back inside and sticks close by him all through the night, making sure he never has to interact with Ben and Meredith again. He can tell the precise moment Zayn and Jade work out what happened, because their playful jabbing at each other suddenly makes Jade trip forward towards the couple. Zayn steps on Ben’s toes trying to catch her, and Jade spills her full glass of bubbly all down his shirt front. Louis snorts as he watches them apologise profusely. Meredith waves them off with a laugh, but there’s no way Ben doesn’t know exactly what happened, Louis thinks.

The gallery empties slowly, and Ben and Meredith are among the last people to leave, even though Ben has suffered a second food related mishap and been kicked in the calf, courtesy of Zayn’s blonde. Meredith waves over at them jovially from the door, since Harry and Louis have found themselves on the other side of the room, completely coincidentally of course, and then they’re finally gone.

Zayn, Jade, and their three friends pop up at their side almost immediately.

“I cannot believe him!” Jade fumes, and wraps Harry up in a hug that looks surprisingly strong given that she doesn’t even come up to his chin.

Zayn stares at Harry so fiercely as he offers his own embrace that Louis is sure if he asked Zayn to key Ben’s car with him he’d bring a crowbar.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” one of the other girls says, and all four of them bury him in a group hug made of a lot of cocktail dresses and arms. Harry smiles down at the tops of their heads and gives them each a kiss to their hair.

“Thanks, loves,” he says. “He’s not worth it, right?”

“Not even worth the gum stuck to the sole of your shoe,” Zayn’s blonde confirms with a fierce nod. “What a prick.”

“You’ll tell her though, won’t you?” Jade asks gently.

Harry nods tiredly. “Yeah, I’m emailing her tomorrow.”

Jade pats his back gently, and then takes a step back. “Do you need me to stay for cleanup?”

“Nah, that’s alright. You lot go out and have a good night. I’ve got everything under control.”

“You sure, bro?” Zayn asks, one arm slung around the blonde’s shoulders, who’s still frowning like she’s contemplating keying Ben’s car.

“Yeah, there’s not much to do. And I need the distraction anyway,” Harry says.

“And I’ll stay and help,” Louis pipes up.

“Alright,” Zayn says with a slow nod and another one of those calculating looks at Louis. “Call if you change your mind.”

Harry smiles and lets Zayn pull him into another hug before ushering them out the door.

Once everyone’s gone, Harry goes to lock the front door and hooks his phone up to the speakers that have been playing something subtle and acoustic all night, blasting Taylor Swift’s 1989. He grins over at Louis who can’t help the burst of laughter before he starts singing along with Taylor and Harry. The catering people join in while they carry out the last of their stuff, slapping Harry on the back good-naturedly when they’re done, while Louis is collecting paper decorations. It’s clear that they’ve worked with Harry before, and Louis watches Harry say goodbye to them with a smile on his face.

It doesn’t take much longer for them to take down the rest of the decorations. Harry pushes a broom into Louis’ hands and tells him to sweep up the worst of the mess while he goes to stash the high tables wherever it is they are meant to be stashed.

“The cleaners’ll take care of the details,” Harry says when he comes back, taking the broom from Louis to put it back wherever it belongs.

“So we’re done?” Louis asks.

“Yep. We’re done,” Harry says with a smile and unhooks his phone, powering down the sound system and locking that up as well. “We’ll leave out back so I can take out the trash.”

Louis nods and follows him back out through the kitchen, picking the squashed box of chocolates up from the street outside to throw in with the two large black bags Harry is tossing into the garbage container. He slams it shut with a metallic clang, and then locks the back door, throwing an arm around Louis’ shoulders as he starts walking them back around towards the main street. He’s always so warm. With the chill of the night, Louis allows himself to enjoy it.

“Thanks for sticking around,” Harry says.

“I was hardly going to leave, was I?” Louis says, pinching Harry in the side.

“Still. Thanks,” Harry insists, taking a deep breath of the clear night air once they’ve made it out of the alley and letting it out as an exasperated chuckle. “You make a better fake boyfriend that Ben does a real one.”

“I could be,” Louis says and immediately wants to bite off his tongue. He wasn’t going to do this tonight, especially not after everything that happened.

“Could be what?” Harry asks, arm slipping from around Louis’ shoulders so he can turn to look at him better.

Louis sighs and runs a hand over his face.

“I... your boyfriend. I could be your boyfriend,” he says, probably sounding a lot more tired than someone confessing their affections is supposed to.

Harry stares at him and doesn’t say anything. Louis doesn’t really expect him to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t... I wasn’t going to say anything tonight, or any time soon, really. I shouldn’t have—” he says and sighs again. “But there it is. I fancy you.”

“You fancy me?” Harry echoes, dumbstruck.

“Sorry,” Louis says again. “I really didn’t... mean to.”

“Fancy me? Or tell me?” Harry asks.

Louis can’t really read his tone so he just shrugs. “Either, really.”

“Right,” Harry says.

For a few moments neither of them says or does anything. Louis gives up trying to read Harry’s expression and stares down at his feet instead, trying very hard not to shuffle them nervously.

“Right, I— sorry, but I can’t—” Harry says, or tries to say at least.

“No, of course not,” Louis interrupts, looking back up to see Harry hanging on to his bun again. “Please don’t feel like you need to... anything. I don’t need you to anything. I shouldn’t have told you this right now but slipped out and I can’t take it back.”

Harry nods his acceptance.

“Just... get back to me whenever you... whenever,” Louis says with a helpless shrug.

Harry nods again before they lapse back into silence.

“Thanks anyway,” Harry says.

Louis snorts a laugh.

“’course,” he says. “And that’s not because I—that’s not conditional or anything, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, sounding a bit like he’d like to be relieved but maybe doesn’t believe Louis entirely. Louis can’t really blame him.

“Well, I’ll, um, see you,” Louis says, taking an awkward step backwards. It’s still early enough that the tube should be going.

“See you,” Harry says back, letting Louis turn and walk away.

“Fuck,” Louis mutters under his breath when he’s sure he’s too far away for Harry to catch it. He resists the urge to run an agitated hand through his own hair or pull out his phone to text Niall until he’s out of sight as well.

‘I fucked up, I told H. Going up to my mum’s for the weekend,’ he texts him.

‘You’re an idiot. Give my best to Jo,’ Niall answers.

Louis can’t say he disagrees.

Louis spends the weekend catching up with his sisters, playing with the youngest set of twins, and telling his mother that Harry’s not actually his boyfriend, he just pretended so she’d get off his back about finding someone to date. That last one does not go over particularly well until Dan chimes in that she has been particularly insistent in disrespecting his direct wish not to interfere with his love life. Apparently they’d already had a small fight about that Saturday they showed up at Louis’ flat, and eventually Louis’ mum relents and apologises.

They have a little cry about it and hug it out, and Louis proceeds to tell her all about what he’s actually been doing with Harry and how he somehow managed to actually fall in love with him somewhere along the line. She’s far more sympathetic about that, and even makes his favourite childhood dinner for him that night. Louis really does love his mum when she’s not being unreasonable and setting him up with every single twenty-something she can find. All in all it’s a good weekend and Louis spends admirably little of it worrying about what Harry’s doing or thinking or how long exactly it’ll be until Harry will get in contact again.

He leaves Doncaster on Monday morning, making it back to London by midday, and considers calling Niall and Liam to meet up for a pub lunch and possibly chill with them for the rest of the day. He still needs to pack, since he’s leaving on the teacher’s conference retreat thing with Liam tomorrow, but he can get that done in the evening and he doesn’t feel like languishing around his flat all day, marinating in his own thoughts. He can already feel the anxiety about the whole Harry situation building, just from being back in London and on his own.

Before he can make up his mind one way or another, his phone dings with a text.

From Harry.

Louis nearly stumbles on his way up the stairs to his flat.

‘Lunch?’ is all it says.

Heart hammering away in his chest, Louis texts back.

‘Sure. Pick you up?’

‘My break starts in thirty,’ Harry sends, which leaves Louis just enough time to drop off his bags, change into a slightly better t-shirt, and shave off the weekend’s scruff, before he rushes out the door.

Harry’s waiting for him outside the gallery, hesitant smile on his lips when he sees Louis coming.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Louis replies.

“Good weekend?” Harry asks, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Louis nods. “Yeah. Went up to Doncaster to see the family, and tell my mum I don’t actually have a boyfriend.”

Harry hums noncommittally and starts walking them down the street towards the sandwich bistro.

“You?” Louis asks.

“Met up with Ed,” Harry says. “Did a lot of thinking. A bit of music. A bit of— weed.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Sounds alright.”

“Yeah. It was,” Harry agrees.

They somehow manage to fill the walk with more small talk, but once they’ve sat down and ordered their food, the humongous elephant in the room takes up all the space between them. Harry’s eyes are darting all around the backyard of the bistro, and Louis is trying incredibly hard not to pick the label off the bottle of sparkling water he’d ordered.

“Look,” Harry finally says.

Louis almost sighs with relief that they won’t have to spend the entire lunch pretending there isn’t anything for them to talk about.

“I didn’t— I was way too wrapped up in Ben until, like, Friday, to think about anything – anyone else,” Harry says.

Louis nods. Of course. He didn’t expect anything else.

“And obviously Ben was... shit. And I might not be in the most ideal place to get right back into anything else. Especially if you only ever do serious and I... well,” Harry goes on, grimacing a little.

Louis swallows heavily but nods again.

“But you’ve been nothing but good to me, and I—”

“No, I don’t want you to think you owe me anything,” Louis interrupts, brow furrowing. “That’s not why I helped you. It took me until we went out Saturday night to even realise I liked you like that. That’s not—”

“No, I know. That’s not what I mean,” Harry says. “Just... you’re already better than Ben and we’re not even... anything. Is what I meant. And I do like spending time with you.”

Louis bites down on the pleased smile, but judging by the twinkling in Harry’s eyes, he’s caught it anyway.

“And I’d like to spend more time with you,” he goes on.

“We can do that as friends as well,” Louis offers. “This isn’t... it’s not serious yet. I won’t be pining away for you if you say you want to be my friend but nothing more.”

Harry hums and looks over at Louis contemplatively. Louis does his best not to fidget under his gaze.

“That’s good. I can’t give you anything serious yet anyway,” Harry says. “But I think I want to kiss you a bit more than is appropriate among friends.”

He’s smirking at Louis a bit, and Louis is helpless against the heat blooming in his cheeks and the way his eyes widen in surprise.

“You do?” Louis asks, because he has to be sure before he gives in to the heavy pumping of his heart.

Harry smiles and reaches a hand out across the table slowly, running his fingers over Louis’. The touch zings along Louis’ nerves like butterflies in an electric current.

“Very sure. You’re quite the lovely thing, after all,” he says with an amused tilt to his lips.

Louis rolls his eyes.

“And anyway, I was talking to my mum last night about going to visit her and my stepdad soon, and she told me we might be joined by these friends of hers and their daughter for Sunday roast. So I told her I’d bring someone, just in case she’s getting any ideas,” Harry says, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Louis gives a startled laugh.

“I don’t know... meeting the parents so soon? Don’t you think that’s a tad fast?”

“Well, I’ve already met yours,” Harry points out. “I’m just making sure I’m keeping pace.”

Louis grins and shakes his head fondly.

“We can go at whatever pace you want,” he says, turning his hand over so he can tangle his fingers with Harry’s, holding on to them.

“I’d like that,” Harry says, teasing smile turning into something sweeter.

Louis smiles back and, on impulse, leans forward and picks Harry’s hand up so he can press a kiss to the back of it, firm and sweet, and absolutely necessary so he won’t burst with the giddy joy of it. He hears Harry laugh gently, and then feels his fingers on his cheek, tilting his face up so Harry can look at him. Only Harry’s a lot closer than Louis expects him to be, and he’s not only looking at Louis, but leaning closer and catching Louis’ lips with his own in a sweet kiss.

Louis makes a surprised noise, but follows the gentle motion of Harry’s lips with his own without thinking, breathing in his proximity and cologne, the warm sunshine filtering down onto them through the leaves, and the quiet murmur of other people’s conversations around them. It’s very much and nothing like the first kiss Harry gave him at the same time. Louis wasn’t expecting either of them, but this one is not a performance; it’s the beginning of something that Louis is incredibly excited about exploring. He can feel in the tilt of Harry’s lips that he’s trying just as hard as Louis is not to smile.

Harry is the one who pulls back again first, settling back into his chair with a cheeky smile, fingers of his one hand still tangled with Louis’s. It takes Louis a moment longer and the arrival of their food to copy Harry and lean back again, but even when they dig into their lunch, their fingers stay laced together loosely. Louis thinks he can probably learn to do a lot of things with only one hand, if this is how his other one’s going to be occupied from now on.