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Scene: Harry's mum's kitchen. Ingredients are spread out on the counter top, including an unspecified meat and at least three different kinds of peppers. A skillet sits on the unlit stove behind Harry. Harry has his hair tucked beneath a beanie, but a few strands escape to curl around his face. It's sort of unhygienic. He should probably invest in a hairnet.
“Hiii! Welcome back for another installment of Happy Hour with Harry. 'M Harry, and I don't endorse drinking while cooking.”
Harry takes a sip from a clear glass and winks theatrically at the camera. He does not mention that the glass is filled with tap water.
“Right, so, uhm. Today, we're going to be making a stir fry. This is a great healthy alternative if you're trying to lose wei-- or, um. Like, if you're trying to get healthier, that sort of thing.”
Harry grins at the camera. The lighting perfectly captures both his dimples. Sliding a cutting board onto the counter in front of him, Harry reaches for the peppers, selecting one of each color. He pulls a long knife from a drawer and holds it up at various angles like he's in an infomercial. He remembers he's not in an infomercial and addresses the camera again.
“Step one is to slice your vegetables. Now, the great thing about a stir fry is that you can choose whatever ingredients you want to personalize it. Personally, I think peppers are a staple of a good stir fry, both taste-wise and to give you an aesthetically pleasing di--”
Harry has been slicing peppers as he talks. He cuts himself off abruptly and stares down at his finger in apparent bewilderment. Ignoring the camera, Harry brings his finger closer to his face. Blood is welling along a shallow nick. Harry hisses in apparent pain and turns his back towards the camera, grabbing the tap to turn on the faucet and running his finger beneath the stream of water. The scene cuts to Harry back at the cutting board, a plaster around his finger.
“Another important thing to keep in mind is that while a sharp blade makes chopping vegetables easier, you have to watch carefully to make sure you don't end up cutting yourself. It'd be a health code violation if you were working in a restaurant, and also it hurts.”
Harry smiles at the camera again, but sincerely like he was giving practical advice and not making a joke. He continues chopping vegetables and other ingredients, pausing to turn on the stove behind him to allow the pan to begin heating up. When he starts to add vegetables and meat chunks, the pan sizzles. He pokes at the ingredients with a wooden spoon, before turning to address the camera again.
“The key to making a successful stir fry is to stir everything consistently, so nothing sticks to the pan and it all cooks evenly.”
This time, Harry looks at the camera smugly, like he's come up with a particularly clever play on words. He frowns a moment later, his eyebrows furrowing, and smoke begins to waft up from the stove.
“Shit. Did I remember to grease the pan?”
Before he can reassure the viewer that he would never forget that important step, even though he definitely did, the smoke detector stars shrieking. Harry jumps, startled, and looks up at the ceiling with a confused expression on his face. He leaves the stir fry unattended to crack open a window, and disappears off screen again. A moment later, he reappears with a small electric fan that he plugs in and aims towards the open window. The smoke detector is still beeping.
“So, uhm, we're having a few technical difficulties, but it's nothing that we can't handle. It's like they say – if you can't handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen!”
It's unclear who “we” is, as Harry is the only one on camera. The stir fry is sizzling aggressively. Harry pokes at it with the wooden spoon uncertainly, eventually turning off the burner. He eyes the finished product and winces. Rallying quickly, he aims another easy grin at the camera. He looks strained around the eyes as he angles the burnt mess in the pan towards the lens. It does not resemble the picture Harry posted as a teaser on instagram.
“Well, there you have it. A learning experience! Luckily we still have leftover ingredients, and kitchen mistakes are just like falling off a horse. You just have to get right back on, and, you know, try again.”
The video ends before Harry can explain how that analogy makes sense.
Scene: Niall's kitchen. There are ingredients for a stir fry laid out neatly on the counter, organized by type. Niall is wearing a worn grey t-shirt and his hair is unstyled; the boy next door look is at odds with the military precision he runs his kitchen with.
“Nialler here. Got another 10 minute recipe for ya that's fast, easy, and delicious. Healthy, too. Today we're gonna be making a stir fry--”
A voice interrupts from off camera. “No way, mate. You can't make a stir fry.”
“Louis, I am filming. Shut up for like twenty minutes, will ya?”
Niall glares into the camera, like it's the viewer's fault that his flatmate is being an insufferable twat. Louis continues to interrupt. “You can't do a stir fry, mate, I'm telling ya.”
“Why the fu-- why not? I've already got everything for a stir fry, and if you'd stop fu-- stop talking for a minute, I could--”
“Listen, mate. Styles literally just uploaded a video of him making stir fry. Although--” Off camera, there is the very faint beep of a smoke detector going off. “Yeah, nevermind. Make your video. Don't think anyone'll accuse you of plagiarizing him. One upping him, maybe...” Shooting one last weary glance at the camera, Niall starts to walk out of the shot towards Louis' voice. The scene cuts off, resuming with Niall back in the kitchen, smiling tightly at the camera.
“Okay, back 't business! So, as you can see, we've got all the ingredients here you'll need 't make a quick and tasty stir fry. Also, just for the record, I want 't point out that it's possible for two separate Youtube channels with similar content 't develop completely independently of each other. Food for thought.”
Off camera, there is a sound like a goat bleating. Long-time viewers are able to identify this noise as Louis' sarcastic laughter. Niall ignores the noise and carries on describing in acute detail how to properly chop each vegetable. He does not nick himself with the blade even once.
“Once you're finished with the peppers, which we've already got set aside, you can go ahead and chop up your meat. Don't forget that--”
A green blur flies into the shot, hitting Niall squarely in the forehead before falling to the counter. It is an expertly chopped piece of green pepper. There is more laughter that sounds distinctly less goat-like. Niall looks directly into the camera like he's on The Office.
“Louis, you know I can't edit it out every time you fu- mess up a shot. I promised the people 10 minute stir fry. I've already been in this kitchen for forty-five minutes.”
“Come off it, Niall. Your viewers love me. It's the only reason you can compete with Harry Styles.” Niall holds up the knife he still has clasped in hand, aiming the pointy bit just to the left of the camera. Pink-tinged liquid runs down the blade, dripping onto the small pile of chopped-up meat on the cutting board. No sound effects from the movie Psycho have been added, even though Louis left several comments on the uploaded video complaining that Niall 'missed a real opportunity.'
“Do ya want frozen waffles for dinner again, or will you let me finish this fu-- this video?”
Another cut screen to Niall finishing chopping the meat and explaining how to tenderize and season it properly. The rest of the video goes smoothly; there are no fires, smoke, or beeping alarms. Louis makes an appearance in the last 12 seconds of the video to steal a bite directly out of the pan. The video ends with Niall laughing at him as he runs his burned fingertips under a stream of cold water.
Scene: Harry's mate Liam's kitchen. It's cramped and a little messy, and the lighting is sort of dingy. Harry has his hair tied back with a bandana, and Liam's hair is cropped closely enough to his head that it's unlikely to end up in whatever they're going to cook. There is a cartoon of eggs sitting on the counter. Good chance they're going to cook eggs.
“Hiii! This is Happy Hour with Harry. 'M Harry, and I'm here with my mate, Liam.”
Liam waves his hand at the camera. He kind of resembles a grizzly bear that's learned how to wave on cue, but he's got the sort of face that means Harry's video is going to get lots of views. Harry grins, like he knows this.
“Today we're going to have a little competition, since apparently cooking on Youtube is the new Cutthroat Kitchen.”
Next to Harry, Liam frowns. “You said you weren't going to bring Niall up,” Liam murmurs just loud enough for the camera to catch. “I really don't think he meant to--” Grinning almost manically, Harry opens his mouth to loudly interrupt.
“So! Today Liam and I are each going to be preparing the same dish, and giving it our own unique twist. My lovely sister, Gemma, has agreed to judge--”
“No I haven't!” Gemma's voice calls from off camera. It's not the first time Harry has tried to rope her into a video, but it is the first time she's made an appearance at Liam's house. The viewers are going to eat this up with a spoon.
“--our chosen dish. As you may have guessed from the carton, here, we're going to be making eggs!”
Ignoring Gemma's outburst, Harry beams, like making eggs is something innovative. In his slow drawl, he explains that they're each going to be working separately on either side of the kitchen, and that the only rule is not to cheat and steal someone's idea. “Laying it on a bit thick, H, aren't you?” Liam mumbles audibly if you turn the volume all the way up and also have a nice set of speakers. Harry ignores this, too, and the screen goes black. A second later words appear in white, reading, Ready... Set... Go! The video cuts to a duel screen of slightly different angles of Liam's kitchen; one camera centered on Harry and the other centered on Liam. Instead of Harry's usual long, laborious explanation of what he's doing and the various tangents he inevitably prattles on about, the video is sped up while a weird song about space plays. A quick Google search reveals it's a Flaming Lips song titled 'They Punctured My Yolk.' There is a gleam in Harry's eye when he glances at the camera at the end of the montage, even though the song was definitely added when he edited the video.
“And... time! Drop your eggs, Liam. It's judgment day.”
Frowning, Liam gently sets his plate of eggs on the counter. “Why would I drop my eggs? You do realize this isn't actually Cutthroat Kitchen, right?” but Harry ignores him, yelling for Gemma again. At her lack of response, he flicks another glance at the camera, and then the video cuts to her strolling into the frame, blue-tipped hair tucked behind one ear. “You decide to have a cook-off, and you can't even make dessert? Why do I have to be the one to judge? Bit busy revising, aren't I?"
“It's an Egg off. Ohh, that's clever, actually. I'm gonna put that on instagram.”
Gemma makes a face at Harry, like she's puzzling out if he's actually her brother, or possibly an alien left on their parents steps as an infant. “Yeah, all right, just at glace, Liam's the clear winner.” Harry emits an indignant squawking noise.
“What? You didn't even try them!”
With an eyeroll, Gemma forks a bit of Harry's, then Liam's eggs into her mouth. “Taste test proves it,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scrambled egg. Liam bites his lip, but his eyes are all crinkled up like he can't hold back his smile.
“This is unbelievable.”
Harry's hand swims into view, clearly slapping at the top of the camera, and the video stops a few seconds later when he finally connects with the pause button.
Scene: Niall's kitchen. There's a recipe book lying open on the counter to the 'Easy Curries' section, and Niall's already prepared a selection of raw chicken, laid out on his cutting board. The rest of the ingredients for Chicken Korma are lined up behind him, ready for assembly. Niall grins excitedly into the camera, almost bouncing on his toes as he addresses the camera.
“Nialler here. Got a special treat for you guys today. I'm gonna be making Chicken Korma from a recipe from one of my favorite cooks, Jamie Oliver. Now, this isn't as simple as some dishes, like scrambled eggs, for a completely random example, but--”
A hooting laugh can be heard faintly in the background, and Niall's eyes flick upward in exasperation as Louis calls from the living room, “Going for passive-aggressive, mate? Because I gotta say, you're nailin' it.”
“Louis. Do you want to edit this video, or do you wanna shut the fu-- be quiet? I'm not bein' passive-aggressive, all right? I'm just pointing out a basic fact. Chicken Korma is a touch more complicated than scrambled eggs. Anyone with a skillet can scramble eggs. I want 't show my viewers something that takes skill.”
Niall seems to remember that he has viewers he needs to please, and fixes a bright grin at the camera.
“So! Today I'm gonna be walkin' you through this recipe, and show how even cooks with only a basic skill set can make something delicious that Jamie Oliver would be proud of with a little bit of hard work and patience.”
“Hold up. Are you trying to insult Harry Styles, or get into Jamie Oliver's knickers?” Louis' voice calls again. Niall's smile tightens, and the video's barely hit the 30 second mark. Loudly, Niall starts to explain the prep process, and nearly manages to drown Louis' cackling laughter out. The viewers will have fun deciding which animal he sounds the most like, and Louis will have more fun hitting thumbs up on his favorite comments.
By the end of the video, Niall is wiping his wrist across his forehead, which is shiny with sweat. He's managed to prepare a Chicken Korma that looks as good, maybe better, than the one pictured in Jamie Oliver's recipe book, and his pride is obvious in the square line of his shoulders. He cheeks are a bit flushed, too. Based solely on a screen cap from certain frames, it would be hard to say for sure if this video was cooking tutorial rather than a low budget porn film. Louis' fingers dart into the frame, the silver of his fork flashing as he tries to snag a mouthful, but Niall slaps his hand away.
“Well. Hope I haven't set the bar too high. There you have it, ladies 'n gents. A delicious recipe that even a beginner can make with enough preparation and dedication.”
“You can keep trying to one-up Harry every night, if it means you're gonna cook me food this good,” Louis says, close enough to the camera that even with the volume turned low, you can definitely hear it.
“Who said I cooked this for you?”
With a guilty start, Niall's eyes flick towards the camera.
“Uh, I mean. I'm not trying to one-up anyone. Just a big Jamie Oliver fan.”
Shooting one last bright smile at the camera, the video cuts out.
Scene: Harry's mate Zayn's kitchen. There is an abundance of fruit on Zayn's counter, but it's not clear if that's a choice on Zayn's or Harry's part. In fact, it's not really clear if having Harry in his kitchen is a choice on Zayn's part at all. He blinks at the camera sleepily, like he's not really sure what's going on. The way he watches himself blink, and then angles his face slightly to show off both the length of his eyelashes and the cut of cheekbones, says that he probably knows exactly what he's doing. For a moment, Harry looks a bit lost, staring at Zayn, but then regroups, aiming a grin at the camera. You can see in his eyes that he knows he's going to rake in the views.
“Hiii! This is Happy Hour with Harry. 'M Harry, and today my mate Zayn has been gracious enough to let me into his kitchen.”
There is a collective grateful sigh across the internet as Zayn lifts a hand to lazily acknowledge the camera. Somehow his cheekbones look even sharper than they did just a moment before. It's entirely unfair. Grinning wickedly, Harry lifts his hand, holding up a bunch of tiny bananas. There is another collective sigh, this time because the bananas are so cute. Harry's dimple pops free. This video is definitely going viral.
“Now, what we're doing today is a bit – unorthodox, shall we say. We're not going to be following any recipes like some cooks need to rely on. Instead, we're going to blaze our own trail. Isn't that right, Zayn?”
Zayn lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “Thought we were making banana bread?” Glancing almost apprehensively towards the camera, Harry shakes the tiny bananas in Zayn's face. The internet doesn't know what kind of sound to make.
“Yes, but we're making it with baby bananas. That's cutting edge, Zayn. Never been done before.”
If it's possible, Zayn looks even more skeptical. “In the entire history of the world, you've verified no one's ever used little bananas to make banana bread?”
“Would you just – can you shut up and look pretty?”
“If no one's used tiny bananas, have you considered it's because they don't taste right in the bread?” Zayn suggests, and grunts when Harry elbows him in the side. “Don't make me taste-test, then,” he mutters darkly, rubbing the spot where Harry's sharp elbow connected with his ribs. It doesn't really hurt, but a dozen viewers coo at their screens in sympathy all the same.
“It'll taste wonderful, Zayn. Innovation always tastes wonderful.”
Harry sounds sure about this, but once he's mixed the batter, from scratch, without following a recipe, he eyes it with hesitation. It looks more or less like normal batter. Harry sniffs at it, mouth curled in a pout.
“Sure you don't want to try it first, Z? Blaze a new trail?”
Zayn sort of smolders into the camera, which will ensure that the hits climb even if the bread turns out to be shit. “Yeah, I'm good, thanks.” He hasn't actually done anything to contribute, mostly just lounged about judging Harry. All the same, his presence seems vital. With one last desperate look towards Zayn, Harry takes a deep breath. His tongue cautiously darts out to taste the batter, not unlike a frog trying to catch a fly. At the taste, he can't quite control the look of alarm that twists his features before he rearranges his mouth into an obviously fake smile.
“Mmmm. That's so... delicious. Stay tuned for the next video to see the finished product after we bake this!”
Zayn's husky laugh cuts off abruptly as the video ends, and the observant viewer will notice that Harry never makes a follow up video about how the bread turned out.
Scene: Niall's sick patio. Bright afternoon sun gleams off Niall's shiny grill, which is clearly the centerpiece of his entire garden. It's big enough that it makes Niall look almost tiny, and he beams at the camera like a proud father of his giant transformer baby.
“Nialler here. As you can see, we've got a change of scenery today. We're steppin' outta the box, and steppin' outta the kitchen all together. Today, ladies 'n gents, we're gonna BBQ.”
There's a sliding glass door just visible at the edge of the frame, and as Niall continues to explain what he'll be BBQ'n today, Louis' face presses against the glass until his nose flattens. He widens his eyes, letting them go cross-eyed, and puffs air into his cheeks until they inflate like a monkey. Turning his back towards Louis' antics with the determination of a desperate man, Niall continues to address the camera.
“Now, truth be told, handling a grill is more difficult than it looks. There are some people out there – no one specific, mind, just, in general – but, some people who might feel a little safer in the kitchen, away from an open flame. And that's just fine. It's like they say. If you can't handle the heat...”
Trailing off, Niall winks at the camera. Behind him, Louis begins to pound against the glass door, more and more aggressively the longer Niall ignores him. Without looking, Niall snaps his tongs backwards over his shoulder at Louis' face. Louis staggers dramatically, clutching at his chest, as if Niall's tongs somehow went through the glass barrier and actually wounded him.
“So, I've got a variety of meat here. Kebabs, coupla steaks, some chicken. I've already seasoned 'em, and you can check the description below for tips 'n tricks on seasoning. What I wanna show you guys today is the key to grilling all your meat without under-cooking it, or accidentally burning – OI! Louis, would you fu- piss off?”
Whatever Louis has been yelling over the past few minutes is too muffled to make out, even if you replay the video a bunch of times with the volume turned all the way up, but he must step closer to the door because it's possible to hear him shout something that sounds remarkably like, “just admit you want Harry's meat. Unless you think he was trying to drop a hint with those tiny bananas.”
“Not everything is a euphemism, Lou. Besides, Ha--”
Cutting himself off, Niall darts a look towards the camera. The scene abruptly cuts to Niall gently placing his various meats on the flaming grill, which crackles and snaps, the grease sizzling loudly.
“We've got our meat cookin', now, and honestly the key is just to keep a close eye. You want 't turn it frequently to ensure nice, even cooking and to avoid burning the outside. While the meat's doing its thing, I just wanna address a couple of quick things. Y'know I read most of your comments – thanks for the suggestion, by the way, jonaslover34982, about the BBQ. Obviously I took ya up on it. Uh, but what I really wanted 't say was that I'm not really interested in any sort of collab. With anyone. So thanks for askin', but that won't happen.”
“Because your collab video would have to be posted on youporn, right?” Louis' voice asks from behind the camera. He must've stepped outside between takes. Niall looks straight into the camera with eyes that are silently screaming for help.
“Right, time to turn the meat! Would you – oh, for the love of – Louis, that was not a euphemism!”
Dedicated viewers can just make out a Louis-shaped reflection in the sliding glass door, hand making an obvious wanking motion as Niall hides his face in his palms.
Scene: Harry's mate Nick's posh kitchen. It looks expensive and unused, other than a wine opener discarded near the sink, next to a lone cork. There's a bottle of red wine sat on the counter top nearby that's already half gone.
“Hiii! This is Happy Hour with Harry. 'M Harry, and this is my pal Nick, who I've promised to cook a romantic meal for.”
Harry's pal Nick tips his glass of red wine towards the camera. His cheeks are already a bit rosy, like he's responsible for most of the missing wine. “Don't know that fish and chips can be classified as a romantic meal, pet,” Nick says gently, but his whole face is crinkling fondly in Harry's general direction. Harry pokes at Nick's side.
“It's not fish and chips. It's, like. Fish and... garnishes. Fruit wedges. Fancy dips. C'mon, Nick. I've already wined you. Let me dine you.”
It's not a particularly romantic, or even logical thing to say, since it's definitely Nick's wine. Harry's cheeks erupt in dimples when he smiles, though, and he bites at his already pink lips. Nick looks sort of like he's been hit with a truck, but not that he minds. He takes another large gulp of wine. “Be my guest then, H,” he says, gesturing to the kitchen island, where Harry's already got a couple of uncooked fish fillets laid out on a cutting board.
“Thaaaanks. Now, anyone can just slap some meat on the grill and call it a BBQ. Some dishes, though, take preparation and, like, delicacy to pull off. Fish, for example, is about as far out of the box as you can get, since it's from the sea, and--”
Dragging his face away from his glass of wine, Nick's eyebrows climb up his forehead. “Ohhh, this is about the little Irish fellow, isn't it? The one who's videos you watch all the time? I dunno, I quite liked the BBQ one. His mate seems like a bit of a wanker, though.” Harry huffs out an aggrieved sigh.
“I was on a roll, about the fish. Now you've interrupted and I don't want to have to spend all night editing this. Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about. I watch a lot of cooking shows. Have to make sure I'm not plagiarizing, don't I?”
Nick snorts into his glass of wine, his floppy fringe falling over his face. “You plagiarize GBBO all the time. Besides, that's the only one I've seen you watch, with – oh, I forget his name, but he's all--” Nick adopts a truly horrendous Irish accent, bleating out, “hey mate, t'day we're gonna be talking about my massive crush on Harry Styl--”
“Niall doesn't sound like that!”
While Nick laughs and pours himself more wine, Harry turns his attention back to his poor, neglected fish.
“I'm not even going to edit that out. I want everyone to know how horrible you are.”
“You want Niall to know you watch his videos, you mean,” Nick says, voice low but still loud enough for the camera to pick up. It's hard to say, in the intimate lighting of Nick's kitchen, but Harry might be blushing.
“I don't know what you're talking about. This has nothing to do with Nia-- I'm trying to make you a nice dinner, here, Nick!”
“It's all right, love. I don't mind you using me to make your little crush jealous. I might be old and jaded, but it warms the cockles of my withered heart, to see young love.” Nick tugs his fingers through his messy hair, eyes a bit glassy with alcohol as he grins at Harry. Harry frowns.
“You're barely even 30.”
“I'm over the hill. One foot in the grave,” Nick argues, and neither one of them mention Niall again for the rest of the video.
Scene: Niall's kitchen. Niall's wearing a thick, chunky jumper that looks very soft, and the sleeves are nearly long enough to swallow his fingers. Behind him, a large pot is sat on the stove, the burner turned low and lid ajar.
“Nialler here! I know you all like the ten minute recipes, but I've got a special one I wanna share with ya today that takes a bit longer. As you can see, I've already gotten started to save time. T'day I'm making of my da's favorite recipes that tastes like home: Irish Stew.”
Lined up on the counter next to him are various vegetables, mostly potatoes and carrots, as well as a package of fresh beef. A soft smile creasing his face, Niall reaches for a potato and starts peeling in even, practiced strokes.
“When I was little, me da would always make stew on cold winter mornings. It'd have to simmer on the stove all day, and he'd have to keep watch, make sure me 'n my brudder didn't sneak any before it was done cookin'. The prep is pretty easy, really, just peeling and chopping your veg, making sure your meat is cut into small enough chunks, bit of seasoning 't round it out.”
Niall peers up at the camera through his lashes. His normally quiffed hair falls softly over his forehead, and he's got his sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows to free his hands to work.
“The hardest part, honestly, is waitin' all day for it to cook. Me da still makes it sometimes, when I go home to visit, but I don't usually make it meself, unless I'm feelin' homesick for Mullingar--”
“You lying Irish bastard. You only make it when you're trying to pull.” Louis sounds delighted, shuffling into the shot to grab a beer from the fridge.
“Fu-- c'mon, Louis. Can I make one video, just one, where you don't interrupt?”
“What, and have you lose all your viewers?” Louis steps closer to examine Niall's work. “Pouring on the ol' Horan charm, eh? Really exploiting your Irish roots there, champ. Are you going to feed Harry your stew through your computer screen, or what?” Niall sputters.
“This isn't about-- look, some people try to impress you with over the top, fancy, complex meals. You really wanna show someone you care, you make 'em something from the heart.”
Raising a brow, Louis lets out a low whistle. “Oh, so you care about him, now?”
“That's not what I said. Would you just – I'm going to edit this part ou--”
The screen cuts to Niall smiling into the camera, cheeks a bit flushed and neat piles of chopped meat and potatoes laid out on the counter.
“All right, so, now we're just going to throw this all into the pot, and let it simmer on low all day. By the time it's ready, your whole flat will smell like delicious stew. All you have to do is sit back and relax with a drink, and wait for it cook.”
Niall starts tossing things into the pot, and the screen goes black. EIGHT HOURS LATER flashes across the video, and then Niall's back in frame. His cheeks are very red now, and there are quite a few empty beer bottles crowding the counter that weren't there eight hours ago. “Is the fucking stew done yet? Fuck, I'm starving,” Louis voices yells from the living room. Niall doesn't even wince at the swearing he normally doesn't allow in his videos.
“I think so! Come try it, Lou, tell me what you think.”
“Think you need to stop pining over Harry and send him a dick pic, is what I think.” Louis' voice is muffled, but not that muffled. The video ends as soon as he steps into frame.
Scene: Harry's bedroom, presumably. He's lying on a mattress, chest bare and a half-eaten box of donuts perched on his stomach. From the angle, it's clear he's holding the camera up with one hand, barely managing to keep his face in the shot. There's a donut with a bite missing gripped tightly in the fingers of his other hand. Just visible on the bed next to him when the camera wobbles is a bottle of whiskey.
“Hiii, this is Happy Hour wi' Harry, and 'm – I don' endorse drinkin' while cooking, but 'm not cooking tonight 'cause 've got donuts.”
A sloppy grin slides onto Harry's face as he waggles his donut towards the camera. He frowns a moment later, hand dropping off the side of the bed.
“'m so full. Too many... too many donuts.”
Restlessly, Harry pushes the box off his stomach with suspiciously empty fingers. It's not immediately clear what happened to the donut he just had, but there's a good chance it now lives on Harry's bedroom floor. Most viewers don't notice this detail, as Harry's naked chest is now on display, complete with questionable tattoo choices. It's a very nice chest, and Harry absently runs his fingers over what appears to be a gigantic moth tattoos over his abs. He hiccups.
“Kinda want... d'you know, what sounds good? Like, a nice, hearty – a stew, I think.”
Harry brings the camera closer to his face, lip bitten against a smile. He lowers his voice to a whisper when he speaks again, like he's telling the viewer a secret.
“An Irish stew.”
With a cackling laugh, Harry slumps back on the bed, the camera wobbling a little before he remembers to keep it steady.
“He's cute, isn't he? With the whole, like. The Irish thing. I like it. Him. I like him.”
Hiccuping again, Harry frowns.
“Zayn is so gonna take the piss. I shouldn't. I should post the other video I made, of the donuts. Not this one.”
Harry grins at the camera, green eyes bright.
“It's a really good video, the one about the donuts.”
The video cuts off abruptly.
Scene: Niall's kitchen. It's late at night, the usual bright sunlight replaced by the warm glow of a lamp. Although the camera's already rolling, Niall is distracted by something just out of frame. He's got a snapback perched on his head, and he lifts it up to run his fingers through his messy fringe.
“What the hell are you doin'? I just told you, I'm filming already.”
“Sorryyyy,” a familiar voice calls from behind the camera. “I was just grabbing the cheese.” Niall looks like he's barely restraining from rolling his eyes.
“I already have cheese. Hurry up, would ya?"
Impatiently, Niall finally turns his attention towards the camera, fingers still pulling at his fringe.
"Nialler here, and I've got a surprise for you all t'day--”
“Hiii!” Harry beams, stepping into the shot. There's a block of cheese in his hand. “I'm Harry, but this isn't Happy Hour. Today I'm Niall's surprise celebrity guest!”
“You're not a celebrity.”
Harry frowns. “No, but, like – a youtube celebrity. That's a – don't make that face, Niall, that's a thing!”
“It's not. And if it were, you still wouldn't be one. Your videos aren't that popular, Harry.”
Harry scoffs. “Says the boy trying to make fajitas with dodgy cheese.” Holding up his cheese block, Harry smiles smugly. “Picked this up on my way over. You said you didn't have any organic cheese, so I thought I'd bring some. You know, Niall, it really adds a lot to the flavor of the--”
“You brought organic cheese? What's wrong with my cheese? We're making fajitas, Harry, not opening a five star restaurant.”
“Yeah, all right, I'm leaving.” Both Harry and Niall look up at the sound of Louis' voice. He must be in the kitchen doorway. “You two are too much to deal with. Listen, just, like, quick word of advice? Be sure you turn the camera off before you start fucking on the kitchen counter.” Niall's mouth drops open, eyebrows clearly offended, but Harry's lips quirk up into a knowing little smirk. There's a smacking sound, like Louis' possibly blown them a kiss, and Harry reaches up to catch it, pressing it to his cheek. “I like him,” Louis announces. “Keep him around, Niall. Just don't let any of his friends come over.” It's Niall's turn to snigger while Harry looks politely outraged.
“Don't mind him, he's just sensitive about your mate's cheekbones. And the one that called him a wanker. I don't think he minds the one that looks like a bear, though.”
“Oh, well. Liam's a good egg.” Harry grins a second later, like this was a clever thing to say. Niall barks out a surprised laugh when he catches on.
“For the record, I could make way better eggs than you.”
“That so?” Harry counters, stepping into Niall's space. Niall has to tip his head up to meet his gaze. This video is going to get way more views than the one of Zayn's cheekbones. The viewers have gone beyond a collective sigh and settled for something closer to a despairing shriek. There's hardly any space between Harry and Niall at all, and the most dedicated of viewers will later point out how obvious it is when Harry's gaze flicks down to Niall's mouth. “Mmm,” Harry mumbles. “Maybe we should turn off the camera.”
“First bright idea you've had all night.”
Reaching around the block of organic cheese, Niall fumbles for the camera. Right before he hits the pause button, he looks straight into the lens and winks.
Although they post a picture of the fajitas on instagram later, the video of them cooking is never uploaded.
