Archive of Our Own

Louis’s already halfway back home, Phoebe and Daisy still clamouring for his attention at either of his sides, when his phone chimes with a text.

Granddad and Nana are coming for tea! Bring some lemon cake, please.

They’ve just passed the bakery that sells Nana’s favourite lemon cake.

With a sigh, Louis pockets the phone. “Girls, Nana and Granddad are coming over, so mum asked us to bring a cake.”

“But Louis, we’re cold,” Phoebe complains.

“Well, then you’ll get to warm up a bit in the bakery. Come on, I’ll get you some hot chocolate, yeah?” he coaxes.

“Can I have a tea, please?” Phoebe asks, grabbing Louis’ hand as he turns them around to steer them back.

“Sure, love,” he says. She’s recently decided she prefers tea to cocoa, even if Mum doesn’t let her drink black yet. Not in the afternoon.

The bakery has one of those electric motion sensor bell noises that chimes every time the door opens or closes that would probably drive Louis crazy if he worked here.

Daisy and Phoebe immediately move to peer into the display case of all the different petit fours and cupcakes, while Louis gets in line. He rubs his hands together and breathes on them to warm the icy tips of his fingers, and then fishes his wallet out of his jeans pocket to count the cash he’s carrying, the electric bell chiming twice while he does so, people getting into line behind him. He’ll have to get the girls small drinks, but it should be enough.

“Hello, love, what can I get you?” the kind-looking old lady behind the counter asks when it’s Louis’ turn. Louis glances at Daisy and Phoebe quickly to make sure they’re still where he last saw them, and then turns back to ask for a lemon cake, a small Winter Magic tea, which he thinks he remembers Phoebe liking, and a small hot chocolate.

The bell chimes again, but this time it’s not followed by silently shuffling footsteps, but a jovial, “Afternoon, Barbara!”

Louis turns around, as do the other customers, to look at the bright-eyed boy who’s carrying a cardboard box on one mitten-ed hand, waving at the lady behind the counter - Barbara - with the other one.

“Hello, Harry, dear,” she says, shuffling around the counter to meet him and accept the kiss on the cheek he leans down to give her. “You’re early.”

She pinches his cheek before shuffling back behind the counter, followed by Harry. The hair that sticks out under his bobble hat is messy, but also looks naturally curly. Louis can’t tell what colour his eyes are, but his lips are incredibly pink. He’s pretty.

He catches Louis looking and shoots him a grin before setting down the box and pulling off his mittens.

Louis hopes he’s not blushing, and turns to check on Daisy and Phoebe again, nodding at them to come over when Phoebe catches his eye.

“Are you done?” she asks.

“Almost.”

Harry’s busy sorting cookies from his box into a large glass jar and it’s only when he sets it down towards the front edge of the counter that Louis sees the label stuck to it; “All proceeds go to Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice”. There’s a stack of pamphlets next to it and Louis reaches for one without thinking, the words “children’s hospice” ringing in his mind.

“Oooh, can we get a cookie?” Daisy asks.

“Pleeeaaase?” Phoebe adds.

Louis doesn’t want to deny them, especially if the cookies are for charity, but swallows and thinks of the state of his wallet. Can they have cookies?

“They’re punch flavoured but there’s no alcohol in them,” Harry smiles, obviously having heard the request.

Before Louis can react, Barbara comes back with their boxed lemon cake and the girls’ drinks. Louis hands them down to the girls with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a reminder that the drinks are “hot, girls, please be careful”, and then turns to smile at Barbara as she rings them up.

The cookies are only a pound fifty each, but Louis’ allowance comes weekly, and this week he’s already spent most of it. He’ll get the money for the cake back, of course, but as it stands, he counts out the exact amount of cash needed and is left with a pound fourty. Hopefully the girls are suitably distracted by their drinks.

Louis pockets his wallet again, and as he looks up to say his thanks and goodbyes, Harry holds out three cookies.

“On me,” he says with a smile.

Louis is relatively certain that he blushes this time. “Don’t think that’s how charity works.”

“That’s exactly how it works,” Harry says, smile never once faltering.

Louis passes two of the cookies down to the girls, eyes still on Harry. “Say ‘thank you’, girls.”

“Thank you,” they chirp.

“Thank you,” Louis repeats, a bit more softly.

Harry beams at him and then hesitates. “You could always help me bake the next batch, if you wanted to pay me back.”

“We’re always doing that together!” Daisy pipes up.

“Yeah! Louis cuts them out and we decorate them!” Phoebe elaborates.

Harry grins. “Ah, well. I see you’re a pro then,” he says and grabs a pen from underneath the register, scribbling a string of numbers onto a paper napkin he shoves at Louis. Louis is definitely not a pro.

There’s still a trace of hesitance left in Harry’s smile, despite his forwardness, so Louis pockets the number and smiles back.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a date then,” he says, pleased when Harry’s cheeks flush with more than just the cold as well. “I’ll text you.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry says.

Barbara softly clears her throat then, and Louis shuffles to the side hurriedly, only now remembering he’s probably holding up the line. “I’ll, um, see you soon.”

“Okay,” Harry smiles. “See you soon.”

With a parting smile, Louis ushers the girls back outside, the winter air calming his warm cheeks, but not the happy smile etched on his lips. Thank god Mum needed that lemon cake picked up.