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“I’m not getting married.”

“No love, you’re not. You’re getting engaged,” says Jay, giving him a stern look over the top of her breakfast. Louis presses his lips together and thinks calming thoughts.

“Engaged to be married.”

Jay inclines her head. “Yes.”

“So I will be getting married.”

“That’s generally how it works.”

Louis’ fingers tighten around his cutlery as he shovels a spoonful of cereal in his hands. “No.”

“Louis—“

“I refuse to take part in an arranged marriage.”

Jay sighs. “It’s tradition. The Prince is a very nice boy.”

“We’re in the twenty-first century, Mother. I’m gay, I think we can do away with that tradition.”

“Louis.”

“How did you even find another gay prince who was willing to be in an arranged marriage? Is he old? Please tell me he’s not old and grey.”

“He’s younger than you, actually.”

“Mum,” he whines back—as much as one can whine to a Queen—and watches hopefully for any sign of giving in. No such luck. “I can’t get married.”

“Why?”

“I’m in love with Harry,” he blurts out and the room goes silent. Until Lottie bursts into laughter and nearly upends her cup of tea.

“Charlotte,” his mother warns, but her lips are twitching up into a smile.

“Sorry,” she giggles and ignores the glares Louis sends her. “It’s just— in love with Harry. It’s like being in love with Eleanor.”

“Eleanor’s a girl.”

“And Harry’s been your best friend since you were eight.”

“I could be,” says Louis. Lottie just laughs again, shaking her head. Jay takes another dainty bite of her toast as she waits for them to settle, and then clears her throat.

“The Prince is arriving next week. He will be here for two months, enough time for you to become acquainted, and then there will be an engagement party the beginning of the third.”

“I’ll be married before I see twenty-four.”

“Perhaps.” She doesn’t look at him. He scowls and fights the urge to slump in his seat.

“Why’s it me that’s getting married? Why can’t it be one of the girls?”

“Oi!” Lottie says, and the rest of the sisters echo her. Jay gives him a small smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re the crown prince, aren’t you? And it’s tradition.”

He chews his tongue and holds back the urge to tell his mother to fuck tradition, because swearing at the breakfast table does not go over well. His appetite suddenly gone, he excuses himself from the table and goes off in search of a distraction.

“Let’s elope,” he announces, falling onto the bed. Harry glances up with a smile.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s run away and elope.” When he just rolls his eyes, Louis pokes him in the side. “I’ll knight you.”

Harry snorts. “As if I needed another part to my name. Besides, I’d figure that counts as treason or something.”

“Only if you’d kidnap me.”

“Ummm.” Harry drags out the letter as if he’s thinking and drops a kiss on Louis’ hair at the end. “I’m sorry but no.”

“I’m supposed to marry some poncey prince.”

“Louis, you are a poncey prince.”

He twists his nipples in retaliation. “Exactly, neither can live while the other survives,” he intones and Harry snorts again. “I’m going to die of boredom at thirty.”

“Or maybe you’ll fall in love and live happily ever after.”

It’s Louis’ turn to snort. “This is real life, not one of your romantic comedies.”

“It could be!”

“He’s going to be a prick with a stick in his arse and I will die,” he says, shaking his head. “We will sit in our room and darn socks.”

“Where’d you pull that from?”

“Dunno.” Louis shrugs. “It works, though.”

Harry laughs and then climbs up in the bed to give him a cuddle. Louis didn’t even know he needed a cuddle; this is why he should be marrying Harry.

“Why couldn’t we have fallen in love?” he says, a bit petulantly. Harry hums and runs his hands through Louis’ hair.

It could’ve been easy, marrying Harry. They’d been best friends since they were small, knew everything about the other, worked well together. But they were missing that something, that spark and they were both too romantic to imagine a life without it. They stayed close and their friendship never slid into anything more.

“Because me and Niall were meant to be— joking, I’m only joking.”

“You’re not allowed to pick him over me. I’ll make it illegal.” He digs his fingers into Harry’s side until he’s wriggling away and laughing. Louis nearly gets hit by one of his flailing elbows but dodges just in time.

Harry calls truce after a minute and Louis leaves him be, both still giggling like mad. Leaning over, Harry flips on some hipster shit that Louis is pretty certain no one actually likes and settles down on his back. Louis curls up next to him on his side, head resting on Harry’s arm. They breathe together.

“You’re at least going to be nice to him, yeah?”

“Not scare him off?”

“You’re not scary,” Harry tells him, eyes alight. Louis scoffs and pokes him in the cheek.

“Am too! I’m fucking terrifying!”

“You’re a terror, is what you are. But you’re secretly a teddy bear under that prickly exterior. A small one, though.”

Louis bristles and ignores Harry shaking with laughter. “I am not small! I am a giant among men.”

“If you say so.”

He huffs and bites a little at Harry’s arm. “I do.”

“You’re very good at distracting, but you still haven’t promised to be nice.”  

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re going to live with him for the rest of your life. Might as well at least try to be friends.”

Louis rolls over onto his belly, so he’s half on top of him, and squints at the other boy. It was a good point, but he’s not about to admit that out loud. Instead, he heaves a sigh and taps Harry on the nose.

“I’ll think about it.”

The palace is in a minor uproar making arrangements for the incoming prince. Louis is a little tired of it, to be honest. It’s not like they’re unused to guests—hell, half the nobility has probably stayed there at some point or another—but this has a new layer of intensity.

“It’s cause he’s a prince,” Niall tells him as he waves his spatula around. Louis frowns and kicks his feet out a little. They bang against the cupboards underneath him.

“He’s not the first prince we’ve had.”

“He’s special,” insists Niall. “He’s potentially a future king.”

Louis stiffens. “Excuse me?”

“If he’s married to you, he’ll eventually have a part in ruling. Isn’t that how royal marriages work?” He chuckles and flips whatever he’s cooking. Louis chews on his lip a little. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Well, that’s not intimidating.”

“Imagine how he’s feeling,” says Niall. Louis makes a face.

“I don’t particularly care, really.”

“Don’t say that, Lou. He’s your fiancee.”

He’s really starting to hate the word. He wants to argue that he can’t have a fiancee that he doesn’t know, but it’s just empty words because he does. He hates it. All this talk and preparing and he still doesn’t know the prince’s name. Doesn’t know his future husband’s name.

Louis shudders.

“Hey Niall,” he says and Niall raises an eyebrow. “Wanna get married?”

“To you or to the prince?”

He considers it. “Either.”

“Don’t think I’m cut out to be a king, sorry. Duke is high enough. And I don’t think Bressie’d like it very much.”

“You don’t know that!”

Niall laughs, shooting him an amused look over his shoulder. “He’s my boyfriend. I’m pretty sure he’d be upset if I married someone else, Lou.”

“Where is Bressie?” Louis asks, trying not to pout. He leans forward to glance around the corner. “He’s always around somewhere.”

“He had a meeting with the Queen.” Niall gives him a look that he obviously expects to be meaningful. When all Louis does is blink back, he sighs. “Security information for when she’s gone.”

“Mum’s leaving?! Where? When?”

“M’not sure, but she’s going after the ball.”

“Ball?”

Niall heaves another sigh. “Yes, the Welcoming Ball for the new prince. It’s Thursday.”

Louis sits up taller and scowls at him. “Thursday? When is the bloke arriving, then?”

“Tomorrow. Honestly, Lou. How do you not know this?”

He sags back against the wall and pulls a hand through his fringe. “Dunno. I don’t listen very well, I guess.”

Niall rolls his eyes and flips an egg out of the pan, offering it Louis. He eats it with his fingers, not bothering to jump down for a fork. Niall follows suit and they grin at each other between bites.

“High royalty you are,” Niall says and Louis wipes his greasy fingers along his back in response.

“I didn’t know you were leaving,” he tells his mother that night. She raises an eyebrow at him and the corners of her mouth inch up into a smile.

“I’ve been planning this for a month.”

Louis shrugs once and takes another sip of his tea. “Didn’t know the prince was arriving tomorrow either. What’s his name again?”

She just laughs. “You’ve got selective hearing. I’m going south for a bit— work on some trade negotiations.”

“Are the sisters going?”

“Not this time, love. They’re due to start school soon, and they’re excited to meet the prince.”

“You want me to greet him, yeah?”

“It’d be proper,” she says, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Not to mention polite. He gets in around midday.”

“Him and his entourage, right?”

She tilts her head to the side and pours him another cup. “I think it’s just him, actually. He didn’t mention anyone coming along. Bodyguards, maybe.”

He makes a noncommittal sound. He can’t imagine going to meet his future spouse without Niall or Harry tagging along. “Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you? Wouldn’t he want friends to come with him? Mum, what if he’s strange?”

“Then you’ll have an interesting marriage,” she teases and he manages not to glower. “He’ll be fine, love. I know his parents and they’re dead nice. I’m sure the prince will be too.”

“Were you this worried when you married Dad?” he asked and cut himself off. “You knew him already, never mind.”

“Everyone’s nervous when they get engaged.”

“Not like this,” he mutters mutinously and then changes the subject. “When do the girls start school?”

“Next Monday. Caroline’s got the details, she’ll send them off and such. I think your month will be pretty clear, besides the odd meeting. Plenty of time to get to know the prince.”

Plenty of time to hide out in Harry’s room and convince him to get married, more like. His mother smiles at him as if she knows what he’s thinking and taps him gently on the head.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

He presses his lips together in an approximation of a smile and ignores the pit in the middle of his stomach.

Louis stands in line between his mother and Lottie, trying his hardest not to fidget. It was a bad habit tutor after tutor had tried to break. Lottie and Fizzy and Daisy all were content to be still but he couldn’t. Neither could Phoebe.

He glances down the line of girls and bites back a smile when he spots the twins in their Converse. He’s pretty sure they’re meant to be wearing flats or something, but they’ve never been ones for fancy dress.

The Prince is late.

Lottie fixes her hair with an impatient flick of the wrist and Fizzy heaves a small sigh. The hallway is stuffy and overbearing and his shirt is itchy. All he wants to do is put on his joggers and go play FIFA with Niall, pretending like none of this is happening. His mother touches his back, just briefly, and he closes his eyes at the gesture.

There’s the sound of voices floating in from the hallway and he snaps his eyes open, steeling himself.

“It’s time,” the Queen murmurs, and all six of them straighten, eyes glued to the door.

A boy steps through the door and all the breath goes out of Louis.

The Prince is attractive, but that’s not what makes him falter. It’s the immediacy of it all, the realisation that the man he’s going to spend the rest of his life with is standing right there. He gets the overwhelming urge to bolt.

His eyes meet the prince and there’s a moment of tension, of shared fear, of something, before the Queen speaks and it’s broken.

“Welcome,” she says with her warmest smile. The prince returns it, but it seems a little fake to Louis. “I hope you’ll enjoy your time here. We’re so glad you can come.”

“Thank you,” he answers, bowing gently at the waist. “It’s an honour.”

“This is the Princesses Phoebe and Daisy, the Princess Felicité, the Princess Charlotte and, of course, the Prince Louis.” The Prince’s eyes widen as they land on Louis and he bites back the urge to scowl. Collecting himself, he nods his head at all of them and extends his hand.

“I’m Liam,” he says as he wraps his fingers around Louis’. And he finally has a name. “I’m, uh…”

“My fiancee?” he inserts, eyebrow raised. Lottie coughs and it sounds a little like a laugh. Liam’s cheeks go pink.

“Apparently.”

Counting to three and attempting to make his tone light, Louis smiles. “It’s nice to meet you.” The smile on Liam’s face dims. Maybe Louis isn’t as hospitable as he thinks he is. “How was your trip?”

“Very well, thank you.”

There’s a few beats of awkward silence and Louis tries not to let the panic settling in his chest show. This isn’t going to work, this isn’t ever going to work and he is so, so fucked.

“Maybe you’d like to show the Prince to his rooms?” the Queen suggests, breaking into his inner monologue. Louis nods. “And Prime Minister, if we can discuss details of my trip in the conference room?”

The tension in the room starts to break, with the important people following his mother so he’s just left with his sisters and the bodyguards. And Liam.

Louis starts when Lottie jostles him with an elbow and then shakes his head slightly. “Oh yes. To the rooms?”

The gaggle of sisters follow the two boys through the palace. Liam looks a little surprised at that, but Louis isn’t. They’re curious.

“D’you have any sisters?” Daisy asks quietly, at Liam’s left. The prince smiles down at her and gets a grin in return.

“I have two. They’re both older but terribly busy doing important things.”

Daisy wrinkles her nose. “My sisters don’t do important things.”

“Daisy,” Fizzy chides, but Liam just laughs.

“I didn’t think mine did at your age either, I don’t think. You’re twelve, aren’t you?”

“No,” giggles Phoebe. “We’re eight!”

“My mistake.”

“And Fizzy’s fourteen and Lottie’s just eighteen and Lou is twenty-three.”

Liam gives him a glance out of the corner of his eye. “Is that right?”

“How old are you?” Fizzy asks.

“I’m twenty-one.”

That sets all of them to giggling and whispering.

“You’re robbing the cradle then, Louis,” Lottie says, snickering. Louis flushes bright red and he notices Liam doing the same.

“Shut up,” he mutters but she just laughs harder. He flicks her nose, and Phoebe’s for good measure. “And you shouldn’t be laughing, because you’re next.”

That shuts her up and she glares at him until he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Is that a tattoo?” Phoebe asks, poking at Liam’s sleeve. He jumps and tugs it further down, chewing a little on his lip.

“Um…” he says, glancing at Louis. “Yes?”

“Sick,” she breathes, Daisy echoing a half second later. “Can I see it? Louis’ got loads, he looks like a picture book.”

Liam visibly relaxes and lets her pull up his sleeve. The twins ooh and ahh over the feather, question after question tumbling out of their lips and he can’t keep up. Louis suppresses a smile.

They arrive at Liam’s rooms then, and Louis pushes the doors open. There’s a sitting room that’s nicely furnished first, with doors leading into the bedroom and bathroom sitting at the back. Liam’s suitcases are set neatly behind the large, comfortable couch, waiting to be unpacked.

“This is your suite. I hope it’s alright, we didn’t know what you would need,” Louis recites. “If it’s not to your liking, we can get another.”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Liam says quietly. Louis nods again, for lack of something to do, and shifts his weight.

“We’ll let you get settled, then. Girls, let him be.”

The four of them file out the door, wishing Liam a good night as they go, and Louis behind them. Before he can swing it closed, Liam stops it and catches him by the wrist. He lets go as soon as Louis pauses, chewing on his lip and looking highly uncertain.

“Thank you. And your sisters, they’re lovely.”

Louis snorts. “They’re little menaces, that’s what they are. Don’t worry, they won’t be around very often, they’ve got school. You’ll have some peace.” Liam smiles at him a little and he can’t help smiling back. “Dinner’s at eight, usually, but the kitchens are always open. I can show you, if you’d like.”

Liam glances back into his very big, very empty room and nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

So he shows the way in relative quiet. It might be a first for Louis, being speechless, but he feels a little in shock. Liam, thankfully, doesn’t say anything either.

“Them’s the official kitchens, but we—I like this one better. Smaller, and they let us use it if we want,” he says, and finds both Harry and Niall sitting on the counter with identical grins.

“Oh, who’s this then?” Niall asks around a laugh. Louis feels warmer just hearing it.

“S’Liam. The prince.” Niall and Harry exchange a glance and their grins grow wider. “I’m showing him around the kitchens.”

“Obviously,” says Niall.

“Tell me, do you bring a chicken for your table?” Harry wonders, ignoring the glare Louis sends him. Liam’s eyebrows fly up and he looks between Harry and Louis in confusion.

“Um, what?”

“Nothing,” Louis says and flaps his hand. “Harry’s just being stupid.” He’s in no mood to explain the Princess Diaries 2 reference, and really, Liam as a modern prince with sisters should know every line of that movie. Heaven knows Louis does—the perks of having little sisters. “Tweedledum is Niall and Tweedledumber is Harry,” he announces, pointing at each in turn.

Niall and Harry, predictably, kick up a fuss.

“Why’m I Tweedledumber? Niall’s obviously him.”

“You’re not!”

Louis rolls his eyes and turns to a vaguely shellshocked Liam. “They live here. Unfortunately. Pinch them if they annoy you or summat. What are you two doing down here, anyways?”

“Harry made a welcome cake,” Niall says and jerks his head towards the oven. “We were going to bring it to Liam’s room but we didn’t get the timing right.”

“Actually, Niall put too much salt in the first one and it tasted like a pretzel.”

Niall pokes Harry in the side and frowns. “I thought we’d agreed not to say that.”

“You’re losing your edge, Horan,” Louis teases, already feeling calmer with them around. Well, maybe not calmer. More normal. “I thought you were the baker?”

“Harry’s the baker,” Niall corrects. “I’m the chef.”

Louis rolls his eyes again. “Because there’s a difference.”

The timer cuts off their complaints and Harry jumps down to pull the cake out.

“We weren’t sure what you liked, so we went with chocolate,” he explains. “But you can pick the icing?”

He looks at Liam expectantly, who jumps a little and blushes. “Oh, um. Anything’s fine, really. I like all sorts of cake.”

Harry looks down at it with a thoughtful expression. “Would chocolate on chocolate be too sweet?”

“Never,” Niall declares and Harry reaches for the icing. Louis shakes his head and rummages around for the cereal instead.

“Hungry, Liam?” he asks, rattling the box in his direction.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You look overwhelmed, mate,” he says conversationally as he pours his bowl. “Everything alright?”

“Tired. And they’re, um…” he waves his hand at the bickering two over by the counter. Louis settles down in a chair and kicks the one next to him out for Liam to sit.

“I know. They can be a bit much. Like I said, pinch them if they get annoying.” Niall flips him off absently and Louis laughs. Harry serves up pieces of cake and the four settle around the table.

It’s tense, again. Niall and Harry keep exchanging looks and Liam won’t glance up from his plate.

Harry looks over at him again and Louis might explode.

“Harry,” he snaps and instantly feels bad when Harry frowns. “Um, you’ve got something—“ He leans forward and swipes a line of icing down his nose. Harry nearly goes cross-eyed trying to examine it and then yelps.

“Louis!” he shouts and then lurches forward to tackle him. Louis slides out of his seat and scampers to the other end of the table, smearing chocolate in Niall’s hair as he goes.

Niall gets chocolate on Harry, and then it’s every man for himself. It’s chaos, all three of the boys giggling like schoolchildren and then Liam sat in the middle, bewildered.

Louis decides to change that. He grabs a plate and scoops off a corner, slapping it onto Liam’s cheek as he races round the table. Liam looks even more confused.

“Fight back!” Niall bellows and the prince just shies away from Louis’ grabbing hands.

Their scuffle ends with Louis shoving Harry’s face into the remainder of his slice, all three laughing too hard to keep it up. Liam’s silent as they help each other clean up, Niall eating bits of the cake off of his fingers and, at times, Harry’s face.

“This is disgusting,” Harry says as he works his fingers through his hair. “Louis, you are a menace.”

“I love you too,” he laughs and presses a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. Harry pretends he doesn’t preen and kicks him in the shin.

“Does this happen often?” he hears Liam whisper to Niall. Niall shrugs.

“I don’t remember the last time we’ve had a food fight, but yeah. Louis’s a little shit.”

Louis blows him a kiss, and then one to Liam for good measure.

The ball is a hell of a disaster.

Maybe it isn’t to anyone else but to Louis, it’s a fucking disaster. He’d spilled tea all down his front and run in late. It set the tone for the rest of the evening.

It’s just, no one told him he was supposed to be dancing. And proper dancing at that, not in a crowded club where no one can see you. But the ball’s in Liam’s honour, and he’s Liam’s date, so everyone’s watching him.

His mother gives him a Look when the music starts, so he sighs and turns to Liam.

“Do you want to dance?”

Liam swallows hard and stands up. “Of course.”

They make their way to the middle, painfully aware of all the eyes on them, and face each other. There’s some awkward fumbling with their hands, but Liam’s end up on his waist and his end up on his shoulders. (They’re very nice shoulders, but he doesn’t focus on that. Can’t focus on that.)

They sway a little to the music, stiff and uncomfortable, and Louis hates it so, so much.

“Can’t grind to Mozart,” he mumbles and Liam looks taken aback. “I just… never mind.”

The song ends and he glances up to the Queen, a question in his eyes. She shakes her head ever so slightly and he resigns himself to another dance.

Then, it’s time to mingle. Louis hates this even more, hates all the men and women stuffed into their best as they sneer at him and his life choices.

He can’t fucking help that he’s gay, no matter what they think.

“I would’ve thought you’d find a lovely girl to settle down with,” an older lady snipes and peers at Liam over by the table. “This isn’t really very traditional, is it?”

“We’re having an arranged marriage,” he says flatly. “I don’t see how you can get more traditional than that.”

The lady just smiles at him, lips pressed so thin they’re almost white. She doesn’t answer him, but she doesn’t need to.

“I guess he’ll do,” she says finally. “At least he seems nice. The country will be in capable hands?”

Louis tamps down the urge to scream and inclines his head. “I wouldn’t be marrying him if he wasn’t capable.”

She harrumphs and Louis takes his leave, moving on to a near-identical conversation with a man with an awful toupee.

Niall laughs somewhere to his left with Bressie hovering at his shoulder. No one cares about their relationship at all, just his.

“I hate this,” he says to Harry, who gives him a sympathetic look. “Why does everyone have a  say in my life?”

Harry hums and gives him a pat on the arm. It’s not much comfort, but it’s enough to get him through the night.

Liam appears at his side sometime after Louis has had his fourth glass of champagne, ignoring the way his mother frowned after the second. He needs it to dull the urge to lash out at people, he reasons.

“For Queen and Country,” he mutters as he finishes the glass. Liam frowns slightly.

“What did you say?”

Louis waves a hand, not willing to explain his thoughts. “Having fun?”

“Incredible,” he answers with a tight smile.

“That’s good, seeing as I’m having a shit time.”

Liam’s smile disappears. “Did I do something?”

“Not you.” He jabs his glass in the direction of a particularly offensive lady. “Them.”

“Oh. Um, would you like to talk about it?”

“To you? Not particularly,” he says and instantly regrets it. Liam’s face closes off and he shifts away from Louis.

“Right then.” And Liam leaves just as soon as he came and Louis feels the panic in his chest enlarge.

When it’s late enough for him to excuse himself and not be rude, he drags Harry and Niall out in search of something harder.

“Louis!” he hears behind him, and he turns to see Liam tagging along. “Louis, wait!”

He glances back to Niall and Harry, who are looking a little worried. “No, go on. I’ll meet you in Hazza’s room, yeah?”  They nod together—a little creepily, actually—and Louis takes in a deep breath, pasting a smile on his face. “Can I help you?”

Liam stops in front of him, looking uncertain. “I just… are you upset with me?”

“No,” he says shortly. Liam quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Are you sure?”

He’s not mad at Liam really, but more like what Liam represents. Tradition and responsibility and the fact that his life isn’t his.

“You can tell me what’s going on,” Liam says quietly and then the sides of his mouth lift in a half-smile. “I’m to be your husband after all.”

And he’s so, so tired of it all.

“Legally, maybe,” he snaps and the other boy takes a step back, “but that’s about it. We’re lucky if we’re going to be mates.”

“But—“

He waves a hand.“Take a mistress if you’re looking for a relationship. I don’t care.”

Liam swallows hard, looking a little shocked and nods. “Sorry for asking, then.”

Louis gives him a small smile that he knows doesn’t look real and stomps away.

Harry just has wine in his room, so they make their way to Niall’s, who has whiskey.

“Nialler,” Louis says as he takes a drink directly from the bottle, “you’re my favourite.”

Niall grins and swipes the bottle to take a drink himself. “It’s not my fault if I like a little bit of kick in my coffee some mornings.”

Harry laughs. “You are such a stereotype,” he says fondly, tapping Niall on the nose. Louis tries to copy him, but misses and hits his eye instead.

“Oops.” Maybe he’s a little drunker than he thought. He takes another swig and collapses on the overlarge couch. “I hate this,” he says into the pillow.

“What?”

“That I have to marry Liam and that everyone wants to tell me what to do with my life and that they’re too fucking dense to realise that who I want to fuck isn’t something they get a say in,” he growls, a little savagely, and Harry’s eyebrows fly up.

“Lou…”

“I hate it,” he repeats and rolls onto his side. “Can I sleep here, Niall?”

“Course. Bressie’s on duty tonight, so you can take the bed with me if you want. Harry, want to stay?”

“Sleepover!” Harry cheers and Louis throws the pillow at him.

He borrows Niall’s clothes to sleep in, too tired to go and get his own, and lays between Niall and Harry. He should feel better, this always helps him, but instead he just feels strangely wired. He clambers out and pads to where Niall tucked away the half-finished whiskey. He drinks it until he feels relaxed and drunk and ready to sleep, then throws away the empty bottle.

The morning comes with an awful hangover that paracetamol only dulls. Niall, the saint, goes to ask for a fry-up, and the other two sprawl out across the bed.

Louis checks his twitter idly, not bothering to really read anything until he comes across his own name.

Prince Louis Introduces His New Fiancee-to-Be at Welcome Ball

There’s a fucking awful picture attached of the two of them dancing, uncomfortable smiles plaster on their faces. Louis winces and turns the phone off. He rolls into Harry’s side and tucks his face into his hair. Harry runs a hand down his back and sighs.

“Is it really that bad?” he asks quietly and Louis stills.

“Liam… Liam’s not. He’s fine, it’s just the pressure and everything caring and I can’t let this fail. Even though I’ve already told him off.” He winces at the memory of the night before and then again at the idea of pretending to be in love with Liam for the rest of his life.

Harry hums for a second, fingers scratching at Louis’ spine. “I’ll marry you,” he says finally.

“What?” Louis asks, certain he’s heard wrong. He lifts his head to find Harry watching him.

“If it’s really that bad, I’ll marry you.”

“Hazza…”

“No, it’ll be fun. Like marrying your best friend, yeah? We can have sex with other people, if you want, and just live with each other.” He raises his chin and looks Louis straight in the eye. “Let’s do it.”

Louis stares at him, heart feeling three times too big for his chest. He loves Harry, and Harry loves him enough to give up his future. But Louis can’t take that away from him.

“Hazza,” he says again, sitting up enough to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I love you, but no. You deserve to find someone who makes you happy, who you want to marry.”

Harry’s eyes are sad as he pulls Louis in for a cuddle. “So do you, though.”

“It’s not so bad,” he says. “You’ll just have to be extra content to make up for the two of us.”

“Okay,” whispers Harry and he buries his head in Louis’ chest until Niall comes back. Louis just tries to breathe.

He apologises to Liam in the morning. It’s brushed off with a smile that seems almost genuine.

When the girls go off to school, and Harry to university, Louis inexplicably gets bored. There’s not so much to do around this time and even less with his mother gone. He’s got a daily ten minute meeting with the head of staff and security to make sure everything’s fine, and then nothing to do until the girls get home.

He finds himself sitting at the kitchen table with Liam most mornings. Liam finishes with his run about the same time Louis finishes his meeting, and they eat breakfast together. It was awkward at first, but now they’ve reached some sort of agreement to be friends, at least when it’s just the two of them. They’re not princes at breakfast. Just boys.

“I don’t understand the point of a protein shake,” Louis says one morning as he watches Liam blend ingredients. “It looks disgusting.”

Liam laughs and nods at his cereal. “Because that concoction is not.”

“Isn’t!” he insists, shovelling a spoonful of Coco Pops and Frosted Flakes into his mouth. Liam pretends to gag.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Liam says, sitting down across from Louis. “My friend’s wanting to come ‘round for a visit next week. Is that alright?”

“For an afternoon or…?”

Liam’s cheeks turn pink. “I think he was thinking a week or so.”

“Sure,” Louis says as he eats another bite. “I’ll tell Mary to get another room ready. When’s he coming?”

“Tuesday.”

“Just him?”

“Just him,” Liam confirms. “He doesn’t travel with anyone.”

“Cool.” He types in a text to Mary with the information.

“Thank you,” says Liam warmly, and Louis glances up at his tone.

“It’s no problem,” he tells him, rolling his eyes. He throws a soggy piece of cereal at him for good measure. “It’s not as if we’re short on rooms. We’ve probably got too many, really. I get lost all the bloody time.”

“So it’s not just me?”

“Nah. Have you found the secret passages yet?”

Liam sits up straight and his eyes go wide. “No?”

“Neither have I. But Harry swears they’re there. We’ve been looking for them ever since we were small.” He pauses, looking over Liam for a moment. “Do you want to go looking for them today?”

Liam thinks for a second and then stands up, dropping his glass into the sink. “Yeah.”

Louis leads him to a hallway and investigates the wall. “We’ve marked all the corridors we’ve searched,” he explains. “But the marks are really little so I’m not sure if I’m missing it or…” After a minute of searching, he decides it’s a new corridor.

“What are we going to do?”

“We’ll go down and just knock randomly on the wall, yeah? If it sounds hollow, try feeling around  for a crack or something that could be a door.”

“Okay,” says Liam and he immediately starts making his way. Louis watches his briefly and then snaps himself out of it, taking his side.

“Nothing?” he asks when they get to the end. Liam shakes his head and Louis clicks his tongue. “Right then. Onwards.”

They search until they get peckish and then decide to watch a film after lunch, knuckles a little sore from all the knocking.

“Spiderman,” Louis argues immediately and Liam holds up the Batman DVD he’s got. “Spiderman or no superheroes.”

“Batman’s nice, though,” he pouts. Louis thought he was immune to pouting after growing up with Harry, but Liam’s expression makes him go a little soft. Making a face, he motions at him to put the film in.

Liam makes a happy noise and comes to sit next to him on the sofa, leaving a good three inches between their bodies.

Ten minutes into the movie, Louis is already restless. He’s used to being tangled up with people when he watches things, whether it’s his sisters piled on top of him or being in the boys’ laps.

“This is shit,” he mutters and closes the distance between them. Liam jumps.

“What are you doing?”

“I want a cuddle,” he says fiercely, pushing at Liam’s arm. Liam lifts it bewilderedly and allows Louis to crawl under it until they’re pressed together. “Better,” he hums and laughs at Liam’s still-shocked expression.

He stays tense until Louis decides to take matters into his own hands.

“This is what friends do, Liam. Haven’t you had any before?”

“I just thought—“ he cuts himself off and shakes his head. Louis gives him a small smile, an idea of what he’s thinking.

“Just friends. Relax,” he says, tweaking Liam’s chest.

“I can’t with you pinching my nipples— bloody hell, Tommo. It hurts.”

“But you’re relaxed,” Louis says smugly and ignores the hint of something that went through him at the nickname. Liam grunts a reply and Louis cuddles closer.

Louis forgets Liam’s friend is coming until he goes down to breakfast and there’s a stranger at the table. He blinks at him for a good ten seconds before clearing his throat.

“Who the fuck are you?” he says, eyeing the boy in the leather jacket. “And why are you in my kitchen?”

“I’m Zayn,” the boy says and Louis just looks at him blankly. “Liam’s friend.”

He frowns for a second and then remembers. “Oh!”

“Did you forget?” Liam asks as he comes in, already laughing. Louis finds it a little rude.

“No,” he tells him sulkily. “I just wasn’t expecting a stranger.”

“Zayn’s not a stranger.” Zayn beams up at him for that and Liam rubs under his chin. Louis feels a flash of irrational anger that he refuses to analyse.

“Thanks, babe.” He holds out a hand to Louis. “Shall we meet properly? I”m Zayn.”

“Louis.”

“Liam’s fiancee,” Zayn says thoughtfully, eyeing him. “Should I bow?”

“You can curtsey, if you’d like.”

Zayn grins and Louis can’t help but grin back. “Nah, mate, I’m not dressed for it.”

“Shame,” says Liam, kicking at Zayn’s leg. “Would’ve liked to see that.”

Zayn wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, curling his fingers into Liam’s shirt collar. Liam leans into his touch, and Louis feels that anger again.

“So Zayn,” he says loudly, “how long have you known Liam?”

“Long enough,” he answers and the two boys laugh. Louis just manages not to scowl. “We met in secondary.”

“S’nice,” Louis says and flings a spoonful of cereal at Liam.

“Oi.” He flicks some water back at him and then slides Louis’ bowl away. “We’re not having another food fight, Tommo.”

“Alright,” he says, getting up. “How about a water fight, then?” He dumps the remains  of his glass over the top of Liam’s head. Liam rolls his eyes and catches his hoodie before he can dash off.

“Niall was right, you’re a little shit,” he tells him fondly and Zayn laughs. “What a way to make an impression.”

Louis grins at Zayn. “Might as well get over the awkwardness. You’ll be living with us for a week.”

“Who’s this, then?” Niall asks, coming into the kitchen. His hair’s an absolute mess and he looks like he’s just rolled out of bed. Liam makes the introductions and Zayn and Niall shake hands.

“I’ve seen you’ve gotten to know Louis,” he says, nodding at Liam’s wet hair.

“That I have.”

“Did you have a good night, Nialler?” Louis asks sweetly and Niall gives him a cautious look.

“Why?” He digs his thumb into the love bite on Niall’s neck until he yelps and swats his hand away. “Fuck, that hurts.”

Louis clicks his tongue. “Shagging security? S’not very professional, wouldn’t you agree Leemo?”

Liam shrugs and laughs, Niall’s cheeks flushing red.

“He’s your bodyguard, not mine. I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

“Scandalous,” Zayn puts in and wags his eyebrows.

“We’ve just met, you’re not allowed to tease me just yet,” Niall complains and the other three boys burst into laughter. “Where’s Harry? He’s always on my side.”  

“You’ll just have to wait until later,” Louis says, patting him on the head.

Harry doesn’t even blink when he comes into Louis’ room and there are four people there instead of three. He sits next to Zayn on the sofa and slings his arm around Louis’ shoulders.

“What are we doing?”

“Niall’s going down to his for beer and then we’re going to watch the match.”

“Riveting,” Harry says and laughs when Louis gives him a shove. “But what if I wanted to watch a movie?”

“It’s a lads night, Harry. We’re not watching a romantic comedy. We’re putting on a manly face for Zayner here.”

They do, after they get drunk. Harry always gets his way in the end.

He can hear footsteps outside his door and this late, it’s probably a sister with a nightmare. So he abandons his game and looks out into the corridor.

It’s not a sister, it’s Liam.

“What’s up, Payno?” he asks quietly, making the other boy jump. “Are you lost?”

Liam shakes his head with a small smile. “No. Just thought I’d go for a walk. Can’t sleep.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I can’t sleep tonight.”

“Why?”

Louis makes a face and doesn’t answer. Liam doesn’t press. “Have you been to the best place in the palace yet?”

“…no?”

“Hold on.” He ducks back into his room and finds two jumpers, thrusting one at Liam. “You’ll need this, it’s a bit cold.”

Liam pulls it on as he follows Louis and it’s tight around his shoulders, despite being one of his biggest sweaters. He suddenly remembers the night of the godawful ball, when they danced and he felt Liam’s very broad shoulders and—

“Where are we going?”

Louis grins at him and continues down the hall. “My favourite place.”

“I’m a little scared.”

He decides to take that as a compliment and opens a door. There are stairs behind it, plain ones and nothing like the grand set in the foyer. They climb and climb until they get to a little room with a ladder against the wall.

“Louis, what are we doing? This doesn’t look safe.”

He pauses and looks down at Liam with an eyebrow raised. “Have you quite finished?” Without waiting for an answer, he pushes open the trap door and hoists himself up. “C’mon then, come on up!”

He hears Liam heave a sigh and then a clatter that means he’s listening. A few seconds later, his head pops up, already frowning. Louis pats the spot beside him and Liam reluctantly clambers over to sit.

“Look,” Louis says, pointing. Liam does, and gives a little sigh.

They’re on the roof, on the bit that’s almost the tallest and the entire city is stretched out in front of them. It’s lit up with lights and practically sparkles in the dark.

“Wow.”

“I know.”

They sit and watch for a while in silence; there’s something mesmerising at seeing people live their life from a distance, untouched by others.

Louis shivers, his hoodie not quite thick enough to ward away the evening chill. Liam lifts his arm and wraps it around Louis, allowing him to snuggle into his side.

Liam smells good, like deodorant and pine and something sweet. He turns his head into Liam’s chest so he can smell some more and catches himself just in time.

It’s entirely too coupley for Louis’ taste.

“Simba,” he intones, stretching his arm out, “everything the light touches is ours.”

Liam frowns and tilts his head to the side. “Hold on, it’s dark.”

“Exactly,” Louis says, pinching Liam’s side. “We’re a figurehead monarchy with no real power.” Liam catches his fingers and holds them in his own, laughing.

That warms Louis up more than anything else, really.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Louis asks finally, and it’s quiet in the darkness.

“You first,” Liam says.

“I—“ He hesitates. “Some nights I remember all my responsibility and I can’t hardly sit still, let alone let my mind sleep.”

“What responsibility?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh and swats at Liam’s arm. “I’m meant to be King someday. Everyone’s watching me, everyone’s waiting for me to fail and I just know that I will, in the end.” He laughs again, but it’s sharp and hard. “I’ll be the first modern member of royalty to be executed.”

“Hardly the first,” Liam says without thinking and Louis hits him once more. “I just meant—“

“I know what you meant.”

Liam breathes out a chuckle, hugging him tighter. “You’re going to smash it, Lou. Really. The best King of them all.”

Louis hides his face in his jumper for a second. “You’re just saying that because you have to.”

“Am not.” He pokes Louis in the side. “And besides. I’ll be there to help you, yeah?”

That thought makes him feel lighter, like he can stop and rest for a while. Liam— steady, calm, practical Liam—will be there to share the responsibility. For once, neither the arranged marriage nor the throne seem too daunting.

“I’m glad we turned out to be mates,” he says quietly and Liam goes still beside him. “I mean, it would’ve been shit if we didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Liam breathes.

“What about you, then? What’s got you up at half-past three?”

Liam hums for a moment. “I don’t sleep well in new places, and Zayn’s door was locked when I tried to get in.”

“Hold on, Zayn?”

He can’t see Liam very well in the dark, but he’s pretty sure he’s flushing. Louis feels rather cold again, and then Liam shifts away until their shoulders are barely touching. He’s freezing now.

“Yeah, I sleep well when he’s there. Always have, dunno why.”

“Oh.”

He waits for a minute or two more before he gets up, limbs feeling heavy with tiredness. “I’m dead exhausted,” he says and Liam starts a little. “Tomorrow’s going to be shit.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you still going to go on your early morning run, even after being up this late?”

“Of course,” Liam says, and his voice drops as they climb back into the palace. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’ll be knackered, and it’s a Saturday. I’m planning to sleep in until noon and then eat my weight in bacon.”

“I’ll feel like shit if I do that.”

“You’ll feel like shit either way,” Louis points out. “Just embrace it, mate.”

“I’m working out tomorrow, Louis.”

“Suit yourself.”

He’s the last one down to lunch the next day, unsurprisingly. They’ve not started, which is a surprise, and there’s only one chair left, between Niall and Harry.

“Good morning,” he says around a yawn. Liam and Zayn are too busy whispering to themselves to answer and Louis tamps down the annoyance. He doesn’t need to be the centre of attention all the time, he’s not that self-centred.

But Liam barely acknowledges him the entire meal, conversing with Zayn or just sitting quietly. He doesn’t even look at Louis and it’s irritating at best.

Harry’s hand presses down on his knee.

“It’s been jumping for the past five minutes,” he whispers. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he answers shortly, doing his best not to glare daggers at Liam. “Not much sleep.”

But Harry’s too bloody observant than he should be and he notices the weirdness between Louis and Liam. Leaning in closer, he rubs small circles between Louis’ shoulders and hums softly. Louis relaxes into because Harry is a bloody saint.

“Did you fight?”

“No,” he says and Harry leaves it at that.

Sunday mornings are special. Ever since they were little, Sundays were family breakfast days and today was no exception. The only difference is the absence of their mum, and even that’s not too uncommon.

Louis gets up first and gathers his sisters from their rooms, youngest first. They make their way down the hallway in a little parade, sleepy kids with grumbling tummies.

“Can’t you hold me, Louis?” Daisy asks, blinking up at him.

“You’re too big, love. Didn’t you get any sleep last night?” She shakes her head and shares a small smile with Phoebe. “You’ll be awake after we have brekkie, then.”

She nods enthusiastically and Lottie smiles around a yawn. Louis opens the door to their mum’s room and they troop off to the kitchens.

“Alright. Lottie, it’s your turn to pick the music this time—“

“But she picked last!” Fizzy complains and Louis wags a finger at her.

“You can pick the movie.” Fizzy nods her agreement. “Phoebe and Daisy, you can help me crack the eggs.”

The twins cheer as the Top 40 drifts in over the speakers. Louis heats up the stove and pulls out a frying pan.

“Eggs and bacon and tomatoes alright?”

“And toast and marmalade!”

He smiles at Phoebe, tapping her on the nose. “As if I could forget.” She giggles and tries to tap him back, but she can’t reach. After a minute of trying, she gives up and teases Daisy instead. He keeps an eye on them, lest it turns violent.

The butter’s just melting in the pan and he’s pulled the eggs out when Lottie frowns.

“Oh, I’ve forgotten to charge my phone. Reckon Mum’s left her cord here?”

“Doubt it,” Fizzy chimes in from the table. “She always takes extra when she goes, just in case.”

“I’ll just run back for mine. Don’t eat without me!” Lottie calls and she’s gone before Louis can blink. He shakes his head and starts to fry the bacon.

“Fizz, check and see if Mum’s got any hash browns left. We can eat those for breakfast too.” Fizz checks and returns triumphant, so Louis slides over to let her pop them in the oven.

He does the tomatoes next, because the twins are too busy dancing to help him and he knows they’ll be cross if he doesn’t wait.

“Dance with us, Lou!” Phoebe demands, so he leaves the food on low to join them. They’re all spinning madly around and he picks up Daisy as she goes by.

“I thought I was too big to be carried!”

He licks her cheek in response. She squeals and wriggles out of his grasp, wiping her face on his stomach.

“Gross,” the three sisters say in tandem. He laughs at them and tugs on Fizzy’s arms.

“I thought we were dancing.”

They do a silly made up dance, the four of them, that doesn’t make sense and will never be repeated. Fizzy and Daisy are giggling on the floor by the time they’re done, but Louis and Phoebe are still being as crazy as they can get.

Lottie’s laugh catches his attention and he looks up to see her in the doorway with a familiar figure behind him.

“Oh,” he says, stopping and going red. Lottie smirks and he decides she’s too devious for her own good. “Hello.”

“Sorry I took so long,” she says breezily, “but I found him awake. Can he join us for breakfast, Lou?”

“Family breakfast?” he says without thinking and she gives him a frown.

“If it’s family breakfast, I don’t need to join. I’m fine with making my own, honestly Lottie—“

“You’re going to be a part of the family anyways. You might as well join.” She’s talking to Liam but her words are directed towards Louis. He nods.

“You can, if you’d like. It’s nothing special.”

He turns back to the stove--none of the food's burned, thankfully--and motions to the twins. "C'mon girls. Help me make the eggs. Fried okay?"

"Yeah," Liam murmurs and Louis keeps an eye on Daisy and Phoebe as they carefully break eggs into the pan. He picks out the shells when their backs are turned.

"We're also having bacon and tomatoes and marmalade and toast," Daisy informs him and he lights up.

"A feast fit for princesses," he teases and the girls giggle, Lottie rolling her eyes.

"That's because we are!" says Phoebe. She grabs his arm and tugs him to the table. "Mum's not here, so we have a chair for you."

"That's good."

Louis hides his smile at Liam's earnest replies to the girls' chattering. The food's finished soon enough and he sets it out. The girls tuck in and tease each other between bites, Louis in the middle of it. Liam sits and laughs, flinching when Phoebe smears marmalade down Fizzy's arm and when Louis successfully gets a crust in Lottie's hair.

"Is mischief a family trait, then?" he asks when Phoebe then tries to clean Fizzy's arm with her tongue.

"Probably," says Louis. Daisy marks Liam's forehead with a bit of yolk.

"Since you're part of the family now," she tells him solemnly and splutters when Louis flicks water at her.

"Leave him, Daze. He's not used to it." Daisy pouts and takes a bite of her toast.

Fifteen minutes later and there's hardly any food left. Louis leans back in his seat and sighs happily. Phoebe is sleepily sipping at some tea and Fizzy's in a quiet conversation with Lottie and Liam.

He gathers up their plates and brings them to the sink. "Who wants to dry?"

They form an assembly line with music playing again and Liam staying in his seat, where they told him to be. Phoebe dries, Lottie puts the plates away, Fizzy does the food, and Daisy wipes down be table.

"Surely I can help."

Louis glances over his shoulder at him. "Switch on the kettle and make another pot," he suggests and Liam gets up.

They settle in front of the telly, watching Fizzy's choice of movie, with tea on their laps. Phoebe's cuddled into Louis' side and Liam's on the other with Daisy in his lap.

It's warm and sleepy and comfortable and perfect.

"Let's do something," Louis says, sitting up. Niall looks at him with a smile.

"Like what?"

"Let's go for drinks."

"It's Thursday, Lou," Harry complains. "I've got class tomorrow."

"Not until two," says Louis, kissing him on the temple. "You can be over your hangover by then."

Harry pulls his lip into his mouth and worries it for a moment.

"Yeah, okay."

Louis slaps him on the chest and bounds up.

"Sick. Niall, call your boyfriend and tell him we're going out. Boys? You coming along?"

Zayn glances up from where he was whispering with Liam. “What?”

He repeats his question and the two exchange a look.

“Sure,” says Liam, shrugging. “But are we allowed?”

Louis frowns. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because it’s potentially dangerous?”

“S’what Bressie’s for, mate. It’ll be fun.”

Zayn nudges him in the side and agrees. “Let’s go, Leeyum.”

With a long look at Zayn, Liam agrees and Louis lets out a whoop. They scatter to their respective rooms only to return half an hour later, dressed up and ready to go. Harry gets back first, after Louis, changed into some sheer shirt that would look ridiculous on anyone else. He takes one look at him and snorts.

“You’re going to be cold,” Louis warns, pressing his chilly fingers to the skin above Harry’s tattoo. Harry shivers and swats his hand away.

“Shan’t.”

“Oh, right,” he teases. “Forgot you were a bloody heater.”

Niall comes in next and snorts at Harry’s ensemble. “The hat’s a bit much, don’t you think Hazza?”

“You shouldn’t be talking, seeing as you’re wearing a snapback.”

Niall scowls at the both of them as they giggle, and Louis pulls Harry in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He gives one to Niall too, because he loves his boys and they’re going out and he’s fucking excited.

Liam’s down next, and then they wait an extra ten minutes for Zayn.

“He’s always late,” Liam says with a fond smile and something in Louis’ stomach twists. It gets sharper when Zayn finally slinks down, looking as pretty as always, and he curls into Liam’s side like it’s second nature. Liam has an easy arm over his shoulders and there’s a bitter taste at the back of Louis’ throat.

Bressie meets them at the door, all business as usual except for the way he lights up when Niall smiles at him. Louis might vomit.

“Where to?” he asks, and they all look at each other with wide eyes. Eventually, Niall shrugs.

“The usual club? Unless you lot don’t want to dance?”

Dancing sounds like fun. “Let’s go.”

They crowd into the car and Bressie hands over the aux cord to Niall, who puts on a pop song Louis doesn’t know the name of. He knows all the lyrics, regardless.

“Why’d you give the music to him?” Harry whines.

“Because I’ve got the best music,” Niall shoots back and Harry wrinkles his nose.

“It’s because you’re his boyfriend and probably a good shag, actually. Don’t deny it, Bressie.” That gets Bressie to laughing and Niall goes a little pink. Louis rolls his eyes.

There’s a long line at the front when they pull up, but they go around back and tip the guard there. He lets them in without a complaint and all of them slip into the dimly lit room.

“Go have fun,” Louis tells Bressie. “I’ll be alright.”

“Louis—“

“Niall’s going to be miserable if he doesn’t dance and I don’t want to hear him whining about it. Go.”

Bressie does. Niall and Harry are already dancing, unable to keep still, but Zayn and Liam look a little lost.

“Drink first,” Louis decides and he leads them to the bar. They order shots of tequila and Louis downs them until he doesn’t feel so tense. He thinks about dancing, but he’s not quite drunk enough, so he settles on watching Liam instead.

Liam’s flushed from the heat or maybe the alcohol and his eyes are dancing at something Zayn’s said. Zayn’s tipped towards him with his tongue pressed to his teeth in a wild grin and Louis is so suddenly jealous.

He stumbles forward off his chair until his thighs hit Liam’s knees.

“Alright there, Tommo?” Liam asks, laughing and Louis scoffs.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just fell out of your chair, mate,” Zayn says easily and he shrugs.

“Wanted to.” He reaches out and flicks at Zayn’s chest, then Liam’s for good measure. Liam catches his hand, still laughing, and holds it.

“Wanker,” he says. He doesn’t let go and Louis doesn’t tug his hand away. “This is a nice club.”

Louis shrugs. It’s generic, which is why he likes it. There’s nothing fancy, no paps around to try and snap a photo. Just hundreds of nameless bodies pressed into a nondescript room with house music pumping over the speakers.

Zayn hums a little beside them and flicks his eyes over the crowd. “Reckon I might dance.” He downs another shot and then slips away before Louis fully realises what he’s said.

“That’s a little creepy, mate,” he says to thin air. He looks back at Liam with a frown. “Are you sure he’s not a vampire?”

“Positive,” Liam says, the skin by his eyes crinkled. Louis kind of wants to smooth them out. “I’d know if he was.”

He narrows his eyes, or at least tries to. “You two are close then.”

“Mm, very.” He, too, turns to watch the people dancing. Cocking his head at them, he raises an eyebrow at Louis. “Want to dance?”

“Could do,” Louis says and steps back so Liam can stand. He leads him by their still-connected hands to an empty space on the dance floor.

The bass is thudding in his ears and there’s a sort of electric current racing across his skin— it might be the alcohol or it might be the adrenaline, but whatever it is, Louis loves it.

They don’t touch, but he can still feel Liam next to him, feel the heat of his body as he loses his inhibitions in the music. Louis laughs, half mad with exhilaration already.

Liam’s hands come to settle on his shoulders and Louis is abruptly reminded of the last time they danced. When there’s a lag in the music, he pushes up until his mouth’s at Liam ear and whispers.

“Lot different from the ballroom, innit?”

Liam shudders and seems to lean away. “I remember,” he says in a voice that’s too casual to be realistic. Louis frowns at him for second and then remembers the rest of that disastrous night. He stiffens a bit, sighs at Liam’s formality and shakes his head.

“I’m done dancing,” he says quietly and pushes his way out. Niall and Bressie are sat at a booth, in some sort of strange drinking game, and he sees Harry weaving his way close. He’s strangely beautiful in the half-dark, the strobe lights making his face sharper and a little mythical. Until he smiles, and the deep dimples show in his cheeks. It sends him from moderately-broody fey to adorable cherub.

Louis pinches his cheeks when he comes close, he can’t help it. Harry pretends to pout at him for a moment, but he’s a little too tipsy for it to work right. Instead, he drapes himself over Louis.

“Hi,” Louis tells him and nearly falls over at his weight. Harry catches them, banging his chin into Louis’ forehead as he does.

“Oops,” he says with an earnest wrinkle between his brows. Louis rolls his eyes and pecks him on the side of the head.

“Clumsy Hazza.”

“Mrph.”

He chuckles as he manoeuvres them over to the table and slides in across from the couple. Harry hums as he nicks a sip of Niall’s beer and cuddles into Louis’ side. Louis wraps an arm around his waist; Harry’s always been a touchy drunk.

Liam comes a second later, one hand clutching a beer and the other, Zayn’s wrist. Louis peers up at them and makes a small sound in the back of his throat, hoping no one will hear. Harry gives him a strange look, though.

Zayn collapses into Liam’s lap almost before Liam sits down. Liam lets out a giggle that seems a little out of character.

“Zayn’s quite drunk.”

“We can see that,” Louis says as drily as he can manage. Zayn and Liam blink owlishly at him for a second and it’d be comical if he wasn’t a little miffed. With a lift of his shoulders, Zayn turns back into Liam and presses his nose to his cheek.

“S’lovely,” he mumbles and Louis just manages not to scowl.

“Maybe we should get him home, yeah?” he says to the table. No one’s really listening; Zayn and Liam are wrapped up together, Harry’s giggling to himself, and Niall and Bressie are too busy making out. He throws a wrapper at Niall’s head.

“What?” Niall breaks away long enough to snap.

“I’m ready to go. C’mon, lads”

Niall looks like he’s ready to argue until Bressie whispers something in his ear. His eyes go a little dark and he slides out of the booth.

“Let’s go, then,” he whines, tugging on Harry, who struggles to stand. Louis puts his hand on his waist to keep him up. Zayn and Liam also get up. Liam holds Zayn’s wrist and smiles at Louis.

“You’re my friend,” he slurs, drawing Louis in. “My best mate.”

Liam and Zayn are always touching, he soon notices. Zayn’s always within an arm’s reach and Liam doesn’t even react when he touches him. He always jumps when Louis brushes past.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Niall asks one night when it’s just the two of them. “Why do you care about Zayn?”

“Dunno. Liam likes him a lot.”

“S’probably because they’re friends.”

Louis wiggles on the sofa so his head’s hanging off the edge. “Yeah, maybe. But it seems more that that.” He pauses for a moment, watching Niall kill a few zombies. “Do you think they’re shagging?”

Niall shrugs. “Could be.”

“I don’t like that,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “S’weird.”

Lolling his head to grin at Louis, Niall wags his eyebrows. “Why don’t you like that, Lou? Are you jealous?”

“What? No!” He does not squirm when Niall raises his eyebrows. “He’s just my mate. That’s it.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really Niall.”

“If you say so.” He unpauses the game and leaves Louis to sulk.

Louis asks Harry the same question a few days later. Harry tilts his head to the side and hums for a minute.

“I could see that. They’d be rather attractive together,” he says with a grin. Louis swats him.

“They would not.”

“Zayn’s dead sexy, Louis. And Liam’s rather fit too.”

“I don’t see it.”

Harry laughs and pokes him in the side. “What part?”

“Them being cute together, Hazza. What did you think I meant?”

“Maybe the part about Liam being fit. Cause he is. With those arms?”

“Why don’t you marry him if you think he’s so fit,” Louis grumbles and Harry laughs again, kissing the side of his head.

“I couldn’t take him away from you,” he says with a fond smile. Louis frowns at him and pokes him in the cheek.

“What do you mean about that?”

Harry’s smile grows and he shakes his head. “Oh, nothing.”

He pours whatever’s left in his glass on the top of Harry’s head out of spite.

They’re all scattered across Harry’s floor with the remnants of pizza sprinkled around their bodies.

“It’s your last night, Zayner,” Niall says wistfully and Zayn lets out a sheepish laugh.

“It’s not, actually. I’m staying for while longer.”

Everyone sits up and stares at him. He doesn’t notice, he’s still got his eyes closed.

“What?” says Harry. “Why?”

“Can’t leave Payno by himself just yet,” he says with a laugh, curling a hand around Liam’s bicep. Liam grins at him.

“I didn’t know this!” Louis says, and it’s a little sour. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zayn frowns for a moment. “I thought I did. I told the housekeeper and she said it’d be fine.”

“I didn’t know this,” repeats Louis, disliking how close Zayn and Liam are sitting together.

“Well, is it alright if he stays?” Liam asks and Louis sighs.

“Of course.”

“Brilliant!” Liam says and he gives a kiss to Zayn’s cheek. “We’ve more time together, all of us. It wouldn’t be the same without you gone.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay here,” Zayn laughs, pressing into Liam’s side. Liam brightens.

“Stay here forever, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Excuse me,” Louis mutters and he’s out the door before he can remember moving. He needs something, tea perhaps. It’s always good in any situation. He turns towards the kitchens.

Flipping on the kettle, he rummages through the cupboards until he finds his favourite and then nearly drops his mug when someone clears their throat.

“Christ, Zayn,” he says as he pours the water. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Are you alright?” Zayn asks, scrutinising Louis’ face. “You didn’t seem very happy with me staying.”

“I just was surprised. S’all.”

Zayn chews his lip, doubtful. “What,” he starts and then pauses for a second. “What’s wrong? You seem off tonight. Liam’s mentioned it too—“

“When did he mention it?”

“Last night, before we went to bed.”

Louis makes a noise of disgust that startles them both. He instantly colours and glances down at his tea. “I mean, I just—“

“Louis,” Zayn says slowly, “are you jealous?”

He goes even pinker, if possible. “No.”

“Why’re you be jealous?”

“M’not.”

“Louis.”

He glances up at him and sighs. “Are you and Liam shagging?”

Zayn blinks at him for a few seconds and Louis fidgets in the total silence.

“Er… what?”

“Are you and Liam shagging?”

“Where’d you get that idea?” Zayn asks, and it’s so incredulous that it makes Louis’ hackles rise.

“You two are always fucking touching and being sweet with each other and I just figured you were shagging.” Zayn’s outright laughing now. “Why’re you laughing at me?”

“Louis, no. We’re not shagging, I don’t— No. He’s my best mate, it’s all.” Louis narrows his eyes at him and Zayn holds up his hands. “I’ve got my own fiancee, back home.”

“Why do you want to stay if she’s back home?”

“Pezza—well, Perrie—she’s in a girlband and touring now. And it’d just be dead bored without her and Liam.”

“You’re really not dating Liam?”

“Nah, that’s only you.”

“I’m not dating him.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’re just engaged.”

“It’s an arranged marriage, you know this. We’re just friends.”

Zayn looks at him for a second, his face going unreadable. “Yeah. I do.” He pauses, as if he’s going to say something, and then snaps it closed.

“You look like a fish,” Louis tells him, because he does. A very pretty fish. Probably a beta one, with the luminescent scales. Zayn ignores this.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You do, though.”

Louis folds his arms and scowls. “We’re friends."

Zayn cocks an eyebrow at him. “So are we, but I’m not getting jealous over you’re shagging.” He grins at him and grabs a glass of water.

“I’m not—“

“Sure you’re not.”

He creeps back into the room where they’re watching telly and curls up next to Harry. He tucks his head into his side and breathes for a few seconds.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, arms coming up to hug him tight, “are you alright?”

He pauses for a second and presses his face into Harry’s shoulder. “Later,” he whispers back and Harry nods.

The boys filter out and Harry’s arms don’t stop squeezing Louis round the middle, for which he’s so grateful. When the door clicks behind Niall, he rests his cheek on Louis’ head and waits.

“Zayn and Liam aren’t shagging.”

“That’s good, innit?”

“Yeah.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment as he cards his fingers through Louis’ hair. “I don’t understand why that’s bad, Lou. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“He said I was jealous. He thinks I like Liam.”

“I could’ve told you that.” Louis winces and hides his face in Harry’s shoulder.

“How?”

Harry freezes. “Louis,” he says slowly and his tone sets off panic in Louis’ chest. He hides his face in Harry’s shoulder, willing him not to ask. “Louis, did you not know you fancied him?”

“No,” he whispers. Harry blinks once and his face goes blank. “I told him I didn’t want a relationship.”

“Oh, Lou…” He gathers him up and hugs Louis tightly once more. Louis curls his fingers in Harry’s shirt and desperately tries not to cry.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I know.”

“We were meant to be friends. I wasn’t supposed to fucking fancy him. Him and his stupid face and he doesn’t fancy me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I told him not to, and so he’s not going to and I’m going to be married to someone I’m in love with. This is awful.”

“I know.” Harry drops a kiss on the top of Louis’ head. “But people are in love with the people they marry all the time. It’s standard, actually.” Louis snorts and gets Harry’s shirt all snotty in the process. Serves him right.

“You’re an idiot, Styles.”

“Not as much as you, love.”

Louis lets him have that one.

“Mum’s back!” Daisy yells, streaking into the bedroom with Phoebe on her heels. “Did you hear, Louis? Mum’s come back early!”

“Has she really?” mumbles Louis as he sits up in bed. The girls clamber up and perch on either side of him with equally large grins.

“Sometime in the night,” says Phoebe. “She woke us up this morning.”

“Well, that’s not fair.”

“She said to let you sleep,” Daisy tells him with a grin and Phoebe finishes, “but we were too excited.”

“Naturally.” He squints at the clock and it’s not too before the time he usually gets up. “Is it time for breakfast, then? I think I’d fancy a bowl of cereal.”

“You always fancy a bowl of cereal,” says Phoebe. He doesn’t argue.

His mum is sitting at her spot at the head of the table, Fizzy on her left and Lottie on her right. When she sees him, she frowns at the twins for a moment.

“I said not to wake him.”

They shrug and giggle and clamber into their seats. He leans down and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“Morning,” he says and she smiles at him.

“Morning, love.”

“Tell us about your trip,” Fizzy says as Louis pours a bowl of cornflakes. “Was it fun?”

“Terribly boring. I was in meetings all day long, every day.”

“Surely you must’ve done something,” Lottie asks and the Queen shakes her head.

He lets the conversation flow around him, a little too tired to participate fully, until his name is called.

“Hmm?”

“You’re to have dinner with me tomorrow,” his mum says and he blinks for a moment.

“Of course.”

“With your Liam.”

“He’s not my Liam,” he says a little too fiercely.

Jay looks at him for a moment and then raises an eyebrow. “Alright then. He’s still invited, though. Is that a problem?”

“No. It won’t.”

“Louis, is there something I should know?”

He thinks about saying something about potentially fancying his fiancee, but his mum’s phone chimes with a text and he knows it’s something important.

“Nothing, Mum. Promise. I’ll see you tonight?”

“With Liam?”

“Yeah,” he says and his heart’s in his throat. “With Liam.”

Liam’s surprised when Louis tells him and his expression instantly morphs into nervousness.

“I’ve not done anything wrong, have I?”

“Not at all. She just wants to meet you. Properly.”

“Because that’s not terrifying.”

“Liam, you’re a prince. It shouldn’t be.”

He gives him a pout that makes Louis roll his eyes. “Yeah, but that’s like my mum and dad. It’s different.”

“And this is my mum.”

“Terrifying,” he mutters again, but he grins at Louis and Louis knows he’ll go. “Should I break out my tuxedo again?”

“Nah, just a nice shirt. Mum’s pretty chill.”

Liam lets out a little giggle that’s too cute for Louis to handle. His heart skips a bit. Reaching out, he roughs up Liam’s hair, laughing at his unimpressed expression.

“You’re making fun of me,” he complains. “Just wait until you have to meet my parents. Then you’ll understand why m’nervous.”

“I’m never nervous,” declares Louis and Liam rolls his eyes.

“That’s a lie, I’m 98% positive.”

“There’s always that 2% though. I’ve never been nervous in me life.”

Liam rolls his eyes again and pulls Louis closer, digging his fingers into his ribcage. Louis starts, tries to wiggle away, but Liam’s too strong.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“M’not— stooooop!” He twists away and manages to escape to the other side of the table, clutching his belly. Holding up a fork, he waves it in front of himself. “Not any closer or I’ll stab you.”

“What is going on?” Niall asks as comes into the room with Harry.

“Louis’ just threaten to stab me,” Liam says, and he doesn’t take his eyes off him. Louis raises an eyebrow and brandishes the fork even more.

“Cause he’s trying to tickle me.” He catches Harry grinning and it only takes a split second to realise what’s going to happen. “Oh, fuck—“

Liam and Harry move at the same time towards him, from different sides, and he launches himself onto the table. It shocks the others enough for him to scrabble away to the other side.

“Save me!” he shrieks, throwing himself behind Niall and using him as a shield. Niall just laughs and sidesteps out of the way. “Traitor,” he manages to hiss before dashing around the table, evading Harry’s hands. He scoops a handful of flour up from where it’s out on the counter and throws it at Liam.

“Not fair!” Liam protests and he’s got a fistful of flour now too and maybe Louis didn’t think this through. Soon enough, there’s a thin layer of powder covering the tables and seeping into their hair.

Liam’s slumped on a chair next to a practically-in-tears Niall, Zayn’s made an appearance to lean against the door and Louis is still chasing Harry around, trying to smear a floury mess into his curls.

“Louis,” Harry whines as he flies by Zayn again. “Louis, I’m tired.”

Louis tries to run faster and is abruptly stopped by Liam’s arm around his waist.

“Let him breathe,” Liam tells him, giggling as Harry dramatically collapses onto the floor. Louis starts to argue and is quieted by Liam pulling him closer, until he’s practically in his lap. Harry shoots Liam a thankful look, and Louis a slightly worried one. He shrugs.

“You started this,” he says, tipping his head back to look at Liam.

“That’s not what I remember.”

“Lying’s a bad thing to do,” says Louis as he pinches Liam’s arm. “Get off me, wanker.”

Liam’s chuckling as he lets him slide away, and Louis feels like he’s lost something. He drops his gaze, ignoring Harry’s eyes that are most definitely on him, and he cuddles up to Niall instead.

“Thanks for defending me back there, Nialler,” he says in a voice that’s a little too fond to be harsh. He twists his nipples to make up for it and laughs into Niall’s neck when he flinches.

“Not enough to be dragged into a fight, thank you very much.” He gives Louis a kiss on the cheek, laughing, and then makes a face. “You’re all flour-y.”

“I wonder why,” says Liam, eyes twinkling, and Louis raises an eyebrow.

“Have you quite finished, Liam?” Liam laughs again and Louis catches Zayn’s eye. There’s a glint in his eye that makes him a little nervous and he jumps up from Niall’s lap. “Got to go, lads. I’ve got to get ready for dinner.”

“You’ve just eaten lunch!” Liam protests, Zayn and Harry and Niall agreeing. Louis scrubs his fingers through Niall’s hair and smiles at them all.

“I’m going to need a while to get all this out,” he says, pulling at the flour congealed into his hair. “And the Queen waits for no one.”

He gets up to leave and is stopped by Liam’s hand on his wrist.

“Hold on, you’ve got something—” He leans forward and rubs gently at something on Louis’ cheekbone with his thumb. Louis holds his breath and counts to three, before giving Liam a small smile and backing out of the kitchen.

Liam’s got a tie and nice trousers on and Louis tamps down the smirk he gets at it. Thankfully he’s left his jacket behind so he doesn’t look too much like a knobhead, but it’s close.

“It’s a casual dinner, Liam,” he says in a bored voice and Liam goes a little red, fingers twitching as if he wanted to fidget.

“I wanted to make a good impression,” he retorts, eyeing Louis’ own outfit. “Besides, you’ve got nice clothes on!”

“I’ve still got jeans on, though. And I think it’s a little late to make a good impression. She’s met you before.”

Liam hums at him and smooths his tie. Louis has the awful urge to yank on his shirt until it’s untucked and disheveled and Liam’s less put together. But they’re shown through to the private dining room, and he’s not wanting to make Liam mad at him just now.

“Louis,” his mother says warmly, like she hadn’t seen him this morning, and he grins back.

“Hiya, Mum.”  He gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, stepping back so she can see Liam.

“Hullo,” she says, putting out her hand to shake. He takes it after a second’s hesitation.

“Good evening…”

She laughs a little and winks at Louis. “You can call me Jay. It’s all right, I’m just Louis’ mum here.” Louis smiles at the slightly panicked expression Liam sends him. He’s pink in the cheeks again, embarrassed and looking slightly out of place. “Shall we sit?”

She takes the head of the table and they sit on either side of her. It’s a simple roast, which Liam blinks at, and a little bit of wine.

Liam relaxes as Louis fills his mum in what’s happened since she’s left, about the trouble his sisters had gotten in, and what needed her attention.

“Phoebe’s not turned her homework in much, her teacher sent me an email. Fizzy wants to join choir, and Daisy’s adopted Liam as a brother already.”

“The superior brother, obviously,” Liam tells him and Louis pretends to frown.

“Only because you gave her a piggy back ride.”

“That’ll do it,” says Jay as she pours a cup of tea. “She’s easily affectionate.”

“Like Louis,” Liam says, seemingly without thinking and Jay laughs as both the boys go a little pink.

“Exactly.” She reaches over and smooths a piece of hair away from Louis’ forehead. “Just like Louis.”

“Mum, you’re embarrassing me,” he says and it makes her laugh again.

“Cheeky. Now, Liam, have you enjoyed your stay? And your friend, has he?”

“Very much. Zayn doesn’t want to go back, actually. He might just stay here forever, or at least until Perrie’s come back from tour.”

“And what about you? Could you live here forever?”

Liam ducks his head a little, focusing on the frail china in front of him. “I think, yeah.”

“That wasn’t too bad?” says Louis as his mother clicks the door shut. “You didn’t keel over from fear, at least.”

“Nearly did,” Liam mutters and runs a hand through his hair.

“Wanna go get pissed in my room?”

“God, yeah.”

“Race you.”

Liam knows the palace now, knows his way around and where Louis sleeps. He’s faster too, so Louis really has no advantage. He still puts up a good fight and maybe knocks Liam into a pillar as he goes by.

They collapse against the door, breathless from laughter and the running.

“I so won,” Liam pants and Louis shakes his head.

“Not a chance.”

Louis goes straight to the kitchenette to pull out a bottle. “I have wine or I have vodka,” he says and Liam rolls his eyes.

“Let’s start with the wine, yeah? Start off easy.”

“If you say so.” He pops the top and doesn’t bother to get glasses, just takes a swig from the bottle.

“That’s disgusting,” Liam says as Louis wipes a hand across his mouth. “What if I didn’t want your germs?”

He takes another sip and grins. “Too bad.”

Liam rolls his eyes again and reaches for the bottle.

Soon, Louis is feeling soft and sleepy on the wine.

“S’like I’m fuzzy at the edges,” he slurs and Liam giggles. “No, you’re all fuzzy.”

“You’re the fuzzy one,” Liam says, carding his fingers through Louis’ hair. “Soft, soft, soft.”

Louis practically purrs, it feels so good. He tilts his head back to give him a better angle and finds himself blinking away sleep.

“S’nice,” he murmurs. Liam gives a strand a little tug and then pulls away. Louis opens his eyes, suddenly cross, and sits up to glare at him. “Why d’you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That,” he says, waving a hand around. “You keep moving away. Why?”

Liam’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, slowly like he’s measuring out every word. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No.”

“That’s what you told me!”

“I don’t,” insists Louis, scowling at him. Liam rubs his face with a hand and lets out a deep sigh. Louis copies him.

“What do you want then?”

“I want— I want you to—“ He growls in the back of his throat, frustrated he can’t find the words, and rocks forward.

When their lips connect, it’s like the planets align. At least that’s what it feels like to Louis’ dazed mind, drunk on wine and the taste of Liam’s mouth. He presses closer, curling one hand in Liam’s shirt and tracing his jaw with the other.

It’s not a long kiss, just a few seconds, and Louis sighs when they break apart.

“Louis,” Liam says and he snaps his eyes open at the panic in Liam’s voice. “Louis, what was that?”

He starts, feeling sobriety rush through him like cold water.

“I didn’t—“ he manages to say, and scrambles back on a gasp. “I didn’t mean to.”

Liam’s face twists into confusion and something else Louis’ too scared to analyse. All he can think about is the feeling of Liam’s lips and the desperate need to get away now.

But Liam catches his arm and makes him stay.

“Why’d you do it, though?”

Shrugging one shoulder, he chews on his lip and refuses to meet Liam’s gaze. “Dunno.”

“Louis.”

He sighs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Might fancy you a bit.”

Liam lets out a breath of air and it shocks Louis into looking up. He’s grinning so wide Louis can barely see his eyes, and he runs a hand through his hair.

“That’s sick, then,” he says and it’s a little too casual to match his expression. “Cause I might fancy you a bit as well.”

He freezes, scans Liam’s face for a moment. “Eh?”

“Don’t make me repeat it, you tosser,” he says and kisses Louis.

It’s better than the first time.

The engagement ball is almost three months to the day of Liam’s welcome ball. Louis laughs when he realises, laughs when he thinks about all that’s changed in that time. And not changed; they’re still swaying awkwardly to odd classical music. At least this time, they can laugh about it.

Louis taps his fingers on Liam’s shoulders and crosses his eyes.

“This is dead boring,” he mutters and Liam chuckles.

“You think that we would be able to choose the entertainment, seeing as it’s our party.”

“It’s kind of hard to grind to Mozart,” Louis agrees, quirking an eyebrow. They last about two seconds before bursting into laughter at the memory. “We could try?”  

“Maybe we can ask for some other music?” Liam says finally, smiling a little.

“Shock all the lords and ladies, yeah.” Louis’ eyes brighten. “Imagine if we just blasted Kesha or summat.”

Liam spares a glance for the room. “They look like they need some excitement.”

They look at each other and then a slow smile starts to slide across Louis’ face. “I’ll distract Mum. You rope Niall and Zayn in, I’ll tell Harry. You get Bressie to switch out the music, yeah?”

“Done,” Liam says, eyes twinkling, and they finish out the song, barely.

“And break,” Louis whispers and they speed towards the opposite sides of the room. He breezes past Harry and pauses to whisper the plan in his ear. Harry barks out a laugh, claps a hand over his mouth and then starts going around to all the younger attendants.

Louis can see Liam out of the corner of his eye talking to an unimpressed Bressie, with Niall on his side from the looks of it.

“Hey, Mum.”

“Hi love. How are you? Are you and your fiancee having a good time?”

“We are actually,” he says, fighting a smile. “We do that a lot.”

She takes his hand and squeezes it warmly. “That’s good. I knew you two would work out well. Mother knows best, right?”

“Don’t use that phrase, not after Tangled,” he tells her with a shudder. She laughs.

“Right, I’d forgotten.” She squeezes his hand again and he can feel the ring biting into his fingers.

“You’re hurting me. I’ve got to wear jewelry now, remember?”

“It’s strange,” she says instead, staring down at his hand. “You’re engaged. My baby’s going to get married.”

“Now don’t get all emotional, Mum. It was your plan, after all.” Harry catches his eye and mouths something Louis can’t quite figure out, but he gets the general idea. “Love you, but I’ve got to go make sure my fiancee’s alright.”

“You two are attached at the hip,” she tells him with a smile. “Can barely go ten minutes without each other.”

He shrugs, not going to deny it. S’true after all. “Your fault,” he reminds her and then skips away to where Liam’s waiting at the center of the dance floor.

“Ready, Tommo?” Liam asks, and Louis grabs his hand to twist with his.

“As I’ll ever be.” Liam kisses him, quick and sweet before the first chords of Kesha blast over the speakers. Some people shout and crowd the floor, dancing wildly with Louis and Liam right in the middle.