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“Yeah, Gems, super proud, like I could burst,” Louis typed out a text to Harry’s sister.
“Meeee toooo!!!” She replied with heart and star emojis. “Give him a hug and a kiss for me! I texted him but he hasn’t replied”
“Will do, love” Louis sent back. He always considered Gemma to be his “bonus sister” as he’d known her for almost thirteen years and adored her.
At that moment, the car door flew open and his stumbling, bumbling, drunk husband launched himself into it, carrying two Brit awards in one hand and a drink in a crystal glass in the other. “LOUISH!” Harry screeched, settling himself beside Louis and splashing half his drink in Louis’ lap.
“Hi, love,” Louis replied softly, wiping the Scotch from his lap, because he really was married to an idiot.
“Louish, I won FOUR BRITS tonight!!”
“I know, love, I was there” to which Harry replied, astounded and wide-eyed “YOU WERE?!”
Louis rolled his eyes as Harry’s manager, Jeff, slid behind Harry on the back seat carrying the other two Brits. Harry’s head swung around dramatically towards Jeff.
“JEFF-ER-REY!” Harry explained. For some reason when Harry was drunk, Jeff’s name suddenly contained three syllables. “Those are MINE!” he yelled, handing Jeff his now empty drink and snatching the other two Brits from his hands.
“Okay, fucker, you can have them, just didn’t want you to forget them,” Jeff muttered, returning to his phone, which he was always on. He sat there quietly, tapping text after text into his phone for most of the ride. Louis often wondered who in the hell he texted so often?
Harry huffed and sat down on the seat, sliding his head into Louis’ shoulder, and promptly falling asleep. His loud snoring soon filled the car as they drove to their house. The driver took a turn a bit too sharply and the two Brits Harry held in his right hand slid out and landed on the floor with a clunk. Harry woke up, raising his head slowly from Louis’, who bent down to pick them up.
“NO LOUISH!” Harry exclaimed, swatting away his hand. “I get dem” and as he went to grab them, his drunk ass slid towards Jeff, pinning him to the door. “Christ, Harry” Jeff muttered as Harry struggled to pick up the awards. Once he managed to do that-taking far too long in his inebriated state-he turned to face Jeff and shoved the four Brit awards in his face.
“It’s the Brits, BITCH!” he screeched as Jeff rolled his eyes and Louis stifled a giggle. He turned around and said it to Louis, as if he didn’t know that it was a reference to one of Harry’s favorite songs “It’s Britney, bitch!”
“Okay, love, have a seat, we are almost home,” Louis chided, guiding Harry back to a sitting position..
“It’s the BRITS, BITCH!” Harry yelled-again-before passing out. Again.
When they arrived at their house, Jeff helped Harry out of the car, handing his awards to Louis as they made their way up the stairs. “Jeff-er-reyyyyy,” Harry slurred. “Fankssss youuuuuu” as he kissed Jeff’s cheek. He promptly wiped it off.
Jeff managed to get Harry inside and on the couch after some struggle. “Lou, you gonna be okay with him?” he asked, as if this wasn’t Louis’ first rodeo with a drunk Harry.
“Yeah, mate, I got this,” Louis replied.
“Okay, well text me if not. My hotel is close by” Jeff encouraged as he patted Louis on the back. Louis thought Jeff a wanker most days, but he did genuinely care about Harry, and Louis respected that.
“Should be a fun night” Louis joked, as he escorted Jeff to the door and with a wave, he was gone. Louis took a deep breath and made his way to the couch.
“Love, let’s get this itchy wool suit off you” Louis chided, trying to take Harry’s jacket off him but it was like trying to undress a body in rigor mortis. He was an absolute dead weight in a finely appointed, and very expensive, suit.
“Louish, no, lea me alllonneee” Harry groaned so Louis did just that as he padded back into their bedroom to get his “monkey suit” off. Louis hated dressing up and was much more comfortable in a tracksuit and his signature Adidas trainers. With his pajamas finally on, he began brushing his teeth and he heard Harry yell “LOUISH I NEED YOU!” Louis didn’t immediately respond as he had a mouthful of toothpaste so Harry repeated himself, even louder the second time. “Wanker” Louis muttered as he spit out his toothpaste. “COMING!” he bellowed, wiping his mouth and making his way back into the living room.
What he saw made him burst into laughter. Harry had tried to undress himself but it went all pear-shaped so he had one arm out of the jacket and his right arm half out of his shirt and the arm of the jacket stuck at his shoulder. His drunk, half-dressed, starfish-looking ass was a sight. Louis slid onto his lap and grabbed his arm. “Love, pull your arm this way,” he explained as he tried to guide his right arm out of the shirt and jacket, with moderate success. Harry stared at him with a drunk puppy look on his face and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Hi Lou, love you” he said which made Louis smile.
“Love you too” Louis replied, working diligently on getting Harry untangled from his shirt and jacket. Once he did, he stood up and flung them onto the love seat next to the couch then sat back on Harry’s lap, knees by Harry’s thighs.
In the meantime, Harry put his head back onto the couch and was silent. “Haz,” Louis said, tapping him lightly on the cheek. “Let’s get you out of these trousers,” he suggested.
“Louish, NO!” Harry yelled, then returned to sleeping. “Harry!” Louis said more forcefully. “Don’t you want to get out of that itchy suit and put some pants on?” For reasons Louis had yet to understand, Harry preferred going commando in his suits. Louis wasn’t one to complain though…
Harry perked up and thought about it for a second and nodded. “Yesh, suit itchy, need pants,” he muttered like a caveman. “Okay, I’ll go get pants and you work on getting yourself out of those trousers,” as soon as Louis said that, he knew it was a mistake, leaving drunk Harry alone to get undressed. When he returned with Harry’s underwear, he found him face down, arse-up on the couch, trousers at mid-thigh. Louis’ mind was invaded with dirty thoughts, but then he quickly focused on the task at hand. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him into a sitting position and slid his trousers the rest of the way off his legs. Now Harry Styles, world-famous pop star, three-time Grammy winner and eight-time Brit award winner, was stark raving naked on Louis’ $3000 couch. Louis smirked to himself and wondered how he got so lucky. Louis started to pull the underwear up Harry’s legs, but Harry kicked them off like a toddler. “Louish, no” he murmured as he slid down the couch, head now resting on a pillow. Louis realized this wasn’t a fight he was going to win so he grabbed a blanket, covered him up and decided to leave him on the couch. He pecked a kiss to his cheek, turned off the lights, and made his way into the kitchen for tea. Yorkshire tea always reminded Louis of home-and Harry, but the two were synonymous-and it always comforted him, especially at night. Louis suffered from crippling insomnia but at least the tea made him feel secure, even if he didn’t feel that way in his own mind. When he passed back through the living room, he saw his adorable husband snoring on the couch, mouth open, drool spilling onto the pillow. He shook his head and laid down in bed where he knew he wouldn’t sleep but at least he could be shielded from Harry’s ridiculous drunk noises.
Louis must’ve fallen asleep at some point because he was awoken by Harry climbing into bed, still pants-less. “Hey babe,” Louis said sleepily, as Harry grunted. “Wanna spoon,” he replied as he tucked his back into Louis’ chest. “Do you want some water or paracetamol?” Louis asked quietly and Harry shook his head so Louis obliged his request and wrapped his arm around his chest. Harry was back asleep in three seconds as Louis snuggled into his curls and pulled him tighter. After twelve years together, this was Louis’ absolute favorite; needy Harry wrapped in his arms. Harry stayed in that position for the rest of the night, seemingly catatonic as Louis was up and down, grabbing his laptop to write down some lyrics, getting more tea and water and intermittently, breathing in Harry’s sweaty, Scotch-and-soap tinged essence as they spooned. In the early morning, Louis got out of bed to use the restroom and when he returned, Harry was gone. Louis found him-still naked as the day he was born-standing in their nicely appointed kitchen, chugging a glass of water. Louis wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist. “Need some help?” he asked softly and Harry groaned loudly.
“Louis, I feel like dog shit. Remind me to never drink Scotch again” Harry replied. Louis was just happy he could pronounce his name properly.
“Do you want some paracetamol?” Louis asked.
“Took some,” Harry replied, filling up his water glass.
“Let’s get you back to bed” Louis suggested, guiding Harry back to the bedroom where they encountered Harry’s underwear on the floor. They slid back into their usual positions-Harry as the little spoon-and Harry was sober enough to talk. “Last night’s a bit of a blur,” he admitted.
“Well, you won four Brits, kissed two men on live television and were generally a drunken nuisance at the after-party,” Louis recapped the night for him. “And it was amazing. Gems said to give you a hug and a kiss” as he did just that. Harry chuckled, still seemingly clueless about last night.
“Oh, Gems, prob need to text her back. Where’s my phone?” Harry wondered.
“Probably in your trousers which are on the love seat,” Louis explained.
Harry paused for a second as if he just suddenly realized he was naked and had no memory of getting that way. “How did I?” he asked as his voice trailed off, trying to remember the previous night. “Did we?” he asked, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows at Louis.
“No, love, you couldn’t keep your head up, much less other body parts,” Louis explained.
“Fucking hell,” Harry chuckled. “I haven’t been that drunk in ages. Probably should be that long before I do it again. Jeff is prob mad at me” Louis was also relieved that Jeff’s name returned to one syllable.
“Jeff is Jeff. As long as your shenanigans don’t end up on the front of the Daily Mail, he’s fine.”
Louis smiled wryly. “You, ah, also kept yelling ‘It’s the Brits, bitch!’ at me and Jeff in the car on the way home.”
Harry stared at Louis, wide-eyed, as if he suddenly remembered one event from the previous night, then jumped out of bed and ran to the living room where Louis heard a small ruckus. He returned quickly, phone in hand. “Let’s call Jeff!” he exclaimed, jumping on the bed, and before Louis could protest that it was 6:30 am, Harry was leaving a message on Jeff’s phone.
“Hey wanker,” Harry started. “Guess what? IT’S THE BRITS, BITCH!” he yelled. Harry motioned for Louis to move towards the phone. “Louis has a message for you too!”
“Say it, Louis, say it!” Harry said softly to Louis so he did, yelling “IT’S THE BRITS, BITCH!!” into Jeff’s phone. Harry hung up as they giggled hysterically, Louis falling onto his back, with Harry stretched out on top of him. Harry grabbed the Brit award sitting on the night table and slowly traced it down Louis’ body. “I’d like to tell Jeff where to put his award,” Harry smirked, pressing the Brit to Louis’ bum.
Louis gasped. “You better not!” he yelled as he rolled Harry over so now he was on his back, Louis straddling him. Now Louis had his chance and ducked his head into Harry’s neck to nip at it, which made Harry grab his bum. “Lou,” Harry whispered softly and Louis knew what to do from there. THIS was Louis’ favorite, the way their bodies moved together in sync, exploring each other, hands and fingers in different places, lips crashing together. When Louis made love to Harry, it was just them, their bodies, minds and souls together as one, no Grammys, Brits, beards or publicity in the way. As corny as it sounded, Louis was willing to put up with all of that if Harry ended up like this: naked under him, looking absolutely wrecked and moaning his name. One day they would come out together and it was going to be glorious. In the meantime, Louis knew that it didn’t get much better than Harry whispering “I love you, Lou” in his ear after sex.
As they untangled themselves and returned to spooning, Harry pulled the covers up around them with a satiated sigh. “Thank you for taking care of me last night, Louis” Harry said. Louis squeezed him gently “Always have, always will” he replied as they basked in their post-sex haze. Harry’s phone buzzed suddenly and once they found it, noticed it was Jeff calling. “I’m not answering that!” Harry exclaimed, chucking his phone back to the floor and settling in for a day-long cuddle session with his husband.