Archive of Our Own ^beta

MONDAY

"Memphis…Topless? Am I saying that right?” Louis squinted at the paper coffee cup with the strange name scrawled in black marker.

“Memphis Topless, your coffee's up."

He looked out over the sea of customers crowded into the small café, and took a deep breath. It was barely 8:00 AM and the line at Coffee Clash café spilled out through the double doors and onto the pavement. Louis knew they had to be in violation of some local law, but he couldn't be bothered about it at the moment, as three of his most skilled baristas were having trouble keeping up with the morning rush.

"I think that might be me," said an attractive man in a wool coat with a glint in his green eyes, the corner of his mouth fighting to not turn up into a smile. Louis watched him lose the battle as a dimple appeared.

"Mate, why's the name of a Tennessee titty bar written on your morning coffee?" He wiped a droplet from the stainless countertop.

Tennessee titty bar!" The man squawked and slapped a hand over his mouth, laughter escaping between his fingers.

"Am I right?" Louis raised an eyebrow and traced the letters scribbled below the Coffee Clash logo. "That's clearly Memphis. The rest is garbage, but looks like it could be topless?"

The man laughed again and shook his head. "It's Mephistopheles," he said, dimples now on full display.

"Oh! My mistake," Louis glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the ordering counter. "Becca murdered the spelling, so you can't really fault me on that."

"Yeah, that's not how it's spelled." The man chuckled, reaching for his coffee. "Like, at all."

"Mephistopheles you said? That's quite a name."

"From Faust." The man gazed at Louis over the white plastic lid, his eyes glittery green.

"That's your name? Mephistopheles Fromfaust? Mate. Your parents did you wrong."

The man laughed. "No, it's a pseudonym. A literary reference."

"Ah. A literature professor on the run from the law, are you?"

"No," the man smirked, and leaned his hip against the counter.

"You're a librarian in the protected persons program."

The man shook his head, his hair flopping down over his right eye. "I just like to shake things up in the morning.” Louis watched two rosy patches appear on his cheeks. “I like to hear strange names yelled out across the café. Don't you?" He took another sip and pierced Louis with his intense emerald gaze.

"No, not really," Louis crossed his arms over his chest and tossed his head. "I'm the one shouting them. Makes me look like an arse."

"Not at all! It makes people smile. Makes me smile, at least."

"Oh, well then forgive me,” Louis said, with a slight bow. “That's worth looking like an arse."

The man bit his lip and lowered his eyelids. "Ah but you don't. I've watched. You roll with it, no matter what gets thrown at you." He looked up again. "Calm. Cool. Collected."

Louis stepped back to study the captivating man. "Watching me, eh? Since when? Why haven't I seen you?"

The man shrugged, and sipped his coffee.

"How is it, Mr. Fromfaust?"

"Perfect, as always." There were those dimples again.

"So. Memphis Topless isn't your name, and neither is Mephistopheles."

"No."

"And? Are you going to tell me what it is?"

The man feigned nonchalance, but the dimples won out and he was grinning again. "Guess."

"Mate, you see this line?" Louis waved his arm in a wide arc toward the front doors. "I have to get moving." He fished a scrap of an old envelope from his apron pocket and pulled a pen from behind his ear. "Here, write it on this. And if you like, you can put your number there too."

The man laughed. "I can, can I?"

"Lou! Stop chatting up the customers and get back over here," Becca shouted. "The espresso machine is freaking out, the grinder's jammed, Tyler's gone out for a smoke, and we have three frappes!"

"Frappes in the morning?" Louis rolled his eyes. "Oii! Who's drinking milkshakes?” He called out. “It's freezing outside."

"I'll see ya, Lou." said the man, backing away with a wave.

"Wait! You get to know my name but I don't know yours? This is unfair."

"Blame your coworker," the man tossed over his shoulder.

"Oh I will," said Louis, glaring at Becca as he moved toward the frozen drinks station. "See ya round, Mephistopheles."

TUESDAY

"Caligula?" Louis called out, surveying the crowd that was packed into the tiny café to escape the cold.

Customers smiled and hid secondhand embarrassment behind gloved hands, but Louis was not so easily embarrassed. The coffee cup name game was common in this university town, where everyone thought themselves witty and smart. Over the course of his career he'd called out all manner of horrible puns, lewd pseudonyms, celebrity names, and weird inside jokes. Nothing shocked him anymore.

"Where are you, your highness? Get it while it's hot."

The green-eyed man emerged from the crowd with hunched shoulders and a sheepish grin.

"Oii, were you actually hiding back there?" Louis asked as the shriek of steaming milk pierced the air.

"Maybe I was," the man said with a coy smirk. "But Lou. Nobody would have called Caligula 'your highness'."

"I'm sure they would have if he'd demanded it. I hear he was pretty freaky."

The man laughed. "You should have said 'imperator'. Or Caesar."

"Well. You said Caligula, not Caesar Imperator, so you'll forgive my mistake."

"I'm guessing you're not studying history then," the handsome man grinned.

"No. But how did you know I'm a student?"

"I didn't. But you've just confirmed it, so thank you for that."

"You're welcome, Freaky Caesar."

"Lou!" Becca called. "Get back to work, he isn't going to give you his digits. He's too pretty for you anyway."

Though he was usually impervious to the ribbing of his staff, Louis felt a hot blush creeping up his neck."Yes Becca, he's quite pretty. Thanks for your humbling observation."

He straightened the rolled cuffs of his shirt. "Well, Imperator, see you tomorrow. Unless you find another coffee shop with better looking staff."

"Not likely," said the man, just loud enough for Louis to hear over the din of the café, as he raised the cup to his lips. "Fuck! That's hot!" he exclaimed, nearly dropping the coffee. "Burned my lip!"

"I thought Caligula was into torture," Louis said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well I'm not. Ow. Fuck."

"Want me to kiss it better?"

The man sputtered, then laughed. "You can't flirt with a man with a burnt lip!"

"Why not?"

"It's not…decent."

"Decent? Since when does Caligula care about decent?" Louis waited for the green eyes to meet his own. "Want some ice for that burn, Imperator?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Louis scooped cubes into a small cup and slid it across the counter. "Rocks on the house."

"Thank you. And, she's wrong, you know. You're quite pretty," the man murmured into the ice.

"I know," Louis sighed dramatically, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his apron.

"Oh you do, do you?"

"If I wasn't, you wouldn't be standing here, still talking to me, burnt lip and all."

The man winked. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lou."

"See you, Caligula."

WEDNESDAY

"Batman, your coffee is at the end of the bar."

Louis ducked beneath the counter for a box of large paper cups.

"Hey," a voice came from above, making him pop his head over the counter. The man in the wool coat looked down at him with tired eyes.

"Hey yourself. You're looking a little sleepy there, Dark Knight. Out too late fighting crime?" If Louis wasn't mistaken, he was in the same clothes from yesterday.

The man blew out a long stream of air and ran a hand through his hair. "It was a really long night."

Louis nodded and waited for him to elaborate but he didn't. Instead he continued rubbing his hand over his head, making his curls stand out in every direction. Louis had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling.

"You must be tired," Louis said as he tore into the cardboard box. "You're slacking. I wouldn't have expected you to choose such a basic name for your daily deception."

"I like Batman," said the man. He took a hesitant sip of his coffee and relaxed his neck and shoulders when it didn't burn.

"It's been a while since I've seen a Batman movie." Louis pulled a stack of cups from the box. "It's been a while since I've seen any movie at all."

The man's gaze flitted over Louis' face. "Are you trying to get me to invite you to a movie?"

"Oh! I'd love to. Tonight? Seven?" Louis blinked innocently.

The man smiled for the first time that morning. "I can't go out with you tonight."

"No?" Louis set the cups aside and stood up. "A coffee barista is below your lofty superhero station?"

"You don't know anything about me. How can we go out if you don't even know my name? For all you know, I could be a serial killer."

"It's possible. A lot of serial killers are hot."

The man bit back a grin and shook his head. "You're too much."

Louis cocked his head. "Too much or just enough?"

"Okay listen. You find out who I am, and then, if you want, we can go out."

"Great! Let's go out tonight."

"Do you know who I am?"

"You just said you're Batman. Case closed."

The man backed away from the counter with a wide grin, curls bobbing as he shook his head again.

"There's those dimples I wanted to see," Louis said with a wink, and watched the man hesitate.

"I'll… text you," he decided.

"Sounds good," Louis nodded as the man turned toward the exit. "Wait! You don't have my number!"

"Yes I do," the man waved.

"How? How did you get it?"

The man shrugged, and pushed through the glass door, eyes still on Louis.

"I'm Batman," he mouthed through the window, and disappeared around the corner.

THURSDAY

"Sorry?" Louis looked at the coffee cup again. "Sorry? Is that right? Apologies luv, my coworker has terrible handwr—"

"I'm Sorry," the man in the wool coat slid out from behind the crowd. "It's me. I'm… Sorry."

"You should be. I laid awake all night wondering why I didn't get a text from Batman. Haven't done that in at least ten years."

"You used to lie awake waiting for texts?"

"Yeah," Louis sighed and shook his head. "Superheroes. What are you gonna do."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. It's written right on your coffee." Louis handed the cup to the man. "You could make it up to me over dinner."

A soft smile passed over the man's face. "I can't."

"Ah." Louis felt his stomach drop. "Okay, Rumplestiltskin. I get it."

The man gasped and smacked a hand to the side of his head. "Dammit! I should have thought of that one myself!"

Louis smiled, and turned to the coffee grinder.

"Wait, you get it? Get what? You figured out who I am?"

"Nope. Still know nothing about you," Louis said, pulling the jammed machine away from the wall. "But I do know when I'm being let down gently."

"No… It's…not like that,” the man said. “I just think you should know what you'd be getting yourself into."

Louis turned back to him and wiggled his eyebrows. "And what would I be getting into?"

The man's face flushed pink. "That's not—"

"Relax, Rumplestiltskin. I knew what you meant. You're not into this. It's fine. It's cool. But listen, I need to get back to fixing this—"

"It's Harry," the man blurted.

"What's Harry?"

"My name. My first name."

Louis eyed the man critically. "Harry? Is this a pun or something that I'm not getting? Have mercy on a simple barista. I've been nothing but kind to you."

"It's not a pun. And you have been kind. I'm not… I just think….” Harry took a deep breath. “Look. If you want to go out, great. I'd love to. But you should find out who I am. And figure out if you even want to date me."

"Oh, now we're talking about multiple dates?" Louis raised his eyebrows as high as they'd go.

"Well, I mean, I—"

"Still joking mate," Louis smiled.

"Oh." Harry huffed out a laugh. "Sorry."

"That's your name. Don't wear it out."

"Right!" he chuckled. "Anyway. I wanted to apologize. For not texting like I said I would. I fell asleep."

"So you weren't out fighting villains and ghosting me?"

"No," the man named Harry said with a rueful grin. "Only sleeping like the dead."

"Well I can forgive you for sleeping, Harry," Louis stepped back to the counter, noting how the morning sun highlighted Harry's cheek and brow, a little pearl of light on the tip of his nose.

"Thanks." Harry raised the coffee cup to his lips.

Louis placed his palms flat on the cool stainless steel counter. "I'll have to start asking around about you Harry, so we can go on all those dates you mentioned." An invisible force was pulling him toward the beautiful mysterious man.

"I'd like that," Harry said, his voice soft. Louis caught a faint whiff of a musky cologne, or maybe that was just him. He felt a twinge in his core.

Behind him Becca cleared her throat. "Listen, this is sweet and all, but if you don't get that grinder back online, there's going to be a riot in here."

"Right. Coming," Louis sighed and shoved himself away from the counter, tightening the ties on his apron. "Back to the grind," Louis winked. "See ya Harry."

"See you, Lou."

FRIDAY

"Michael Jackson," Louis called out over the week-weary crowd. "Moonwalk to the end of the bar for your coffee," Louis looked around at the smiles in the shop as two boys attempted to moonwalk and crashed into one another. A mother with a toddler in her arms shrank back from a group of girls badly imitating the Thriller choreography, and for a moment Louis regretted calling out the name. Then, Harry emerged from the mayhem.

"Ah, there's the King of Pop. Did you realize you'd be starting a flash mob this morning?"

Harry bit his lip. "No, sorry about that."

"Anyway. How was your night? Was it a Thriller? Or was it Bad?"

Harry groaned and looked up at the ceiling.

"What's wrong, Pretty Young Thing? Didn't like that one?" Louis clamped his lips together as he tried not to laugh at his own joke.

Harry sighed and shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. "I'd say 'Don't Stop til You Get Enough' but that could be Dangerous, in this situation," he leveled Louis with a grave stare.

Louis leaned across the counter and beckoned Harry closer. "I think you may be cheesier than me, Harry," he whispered, "and that's saying something."

Harry bit his lip.

"Louuuuuu," Becca whined. "For chrissakes, stop."

"I gotta get back to work," Louis threw a thumb over his shoulder. "So… Beat It, MJ."

Harry nodded as he backed away from the counter, his gaze bouncing from Louis' eyes to his mouth and back again. "Bye Lou."

"Bye," Louis' voice was suddenly raspy as he watched Harry weave his way toward the door.

"That was sooo fucking cringe," Becca crowed in Louis' ear, making him jump.

"Fuck off, Becca," Louis grumbled and threw a sharp elbow at her ribs. She giggled and twirled away before he could make contact.

"You're such a sap, Lou. It's disgusting."

"Listen, you may be the manager here, Becca dear, but I'm still your employer. I can fire you at any time."

"But you won't," Becca smirked. "You never have on any of the other occasions you've threatened. Who else will work these morning shifts and put up with your shit? And who else will keep you from embarrassing yourself on the daily?"

"Oii, by your own admission, I'm embarrassing myself even under your watchful eye, luv, so what good are ya?" He threw a damp rag at her chest.

"Face it. You're a hopeless romantic, Lou."

"A hopeless something." Louis pounded the side of the grinder with his fist until it began to whir again. "There, fixed it. For now, anyway. I'm goin' for a smoke. Back in a bit."

"Sure thing, boss," Becca said in a syrupy voice. "We'll be right here drowning in coffee orders until you get back."

In the alley behind the café, Louis was feeling around in his apron pocket for his cigarettes when a text from an anonymous caller appeared on his phone.

"Fuckin' spam," he grumbled, "should change this number."

Leaning back against the brick wall he swiped over the screen intending to block the number when a photo appeared: long fingers wrapped around a Coffee Clash cup with Michael Jackson written on its side. In the background was a bit of a storefront that Louis recognized from a few blocks away.

Unknown: You'll never guess what just came on as I was walking down the street

Louis clicked the link below the pic and "The Way You Make Me Feel" blared from his phone. Louis snorted then began to cackle. He took a drag on his cigarette and formulated a response as Michael Jackson's voice filled the alley.

Louis: it's an actual crime to be so cheesy

Unknown: then I'm a criminal…

Unknown: a *Smooth Criminal*

Louis groaned and took a long drag on his cigarette, laughing through the smoke.

SATURDAY

"And then, she slammed the door in my face!" Niall exclaimed in glee.

"Your own fucking front door?" Louis asked wide-eyed.

"Yeah man!" Niall grinned. "And, she left her shoes behind!"

"She slammed your own front door in your face and walked off without her shoes?" Louis laughed and shook his head. "Mate, how drunk was she?"

"Totally sober!"

"No!"

"And, totally crazy," Niall sighed.

"Obviously," Louis snickered.

Saturday mornings were quiet at Coffee Clash until around 11AM when the university students finally began climbing out of their beds, hung over and in need of caffeine. Louis reserved this slow time for "working sessions" with Niall, his best friend and accountant. But in spite of the businesslike title, their Saturday meetings were little more than friends commiserating over coffee.

"Poor Nialler," Louis clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave it a shake. "You just can't win can you?"

"No mate, I can't."

"At least your sex life makes for excellent conversation," Louis said as he poured another round of coffee. "Distracts me from the monotony of my own." Louis gestured to the cakes in the pastry case. "Fancy another one?"

"Y'already made me eat two Lou, Christ." Niall patted his belly. "So. Who's the guy people are yappin' about in the Coffee Clash group chat? Some customer you've been chatting up every morning for the last week?"

"Wait a minute, there's a Coffee Clash group chat and I'm not part of it?"

"No mate, it's the employee group chat. You're the boss."

"How did you get to be in it?"

"Technically I'm an employee, even if you only pay me in cakes and fancy coffee drinks. Plus they like me more than you. Becca does, anyway. She told me."

"Of course she did. For fuck's sake. I don't even get to defend myself." Louis sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest with a dramatic pout.

"That's the point, Lou."

"Right. Well, seems a bit unfair to me, since I'm the one who signs the cheques."

"There's another reason you're not allowed in. Stop your whining now, and tell me about your weird obsession." Niall leaned over the table.

"I wouldn't call it a weird obsession." Louis gazed up at the stained ceiling tiles near the door and made a mental note to ask Niall for a report on the maintenance funds. Spring break was coming and he'd finally have time to catch up on everything he couldn't do when school was in session, including that roof leak.

"Becca says you're obsessed," Niall was staring into Louis' eyes. "And that sounds weird to me."

"Ah. Becca's full of shite. He's just an interesting customer."

"Lou, I thought we talked about this, man. Customers are off-limits."

Louis sighed. "Technically, I never agreed to that."

Niall had made the 'no dating customers' rule nearly two years ago when a customer Louis dated for less than two weeks became his stalker. Louis tried to ignore it, but after several months of being followed and harassed at the shop and at his home, the police got involved. Louis was glad they did. Still, it was embarrassing, and life-changing.

He'd had to move flats to a place further from the shop and with better security. For a long while, he was hesitant to go anywhere alone. The whole experience had robbed him of an amount of independence that he wasn't sure he'd ever get back.

"Embarrassing, and bad for business," Louis murmured.

"Exactly, Lou. Bad for business. And for you. What do you know about him?"

"Hardly anything," Louis shook his head. "And he says we can't go on a date until I figure out who he really is."

"Who he really is? What does that mean?"

"Fuck if I know," said Louis.

"Becca said he's hot," Niall said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah? Becca says a lot of things."

"So she's wrong?"

"No," Louis sighed, "she's not wrong."

"Ah. So? What else?"

"His first name is Harry."

"And?"

"And the rest is a mystery."

"Hmmm." Niall looked at him critically.

"Listen, mate. I've had two massive assignments due this week. May I remind you that if I'm not here slinging bougie coffee drinks, I'm reading and typing and reading some more, still trying to graduate the fucking longest, hardest MBA program in the universe. Might actually do it, next term."

Niall snickered. "You said longest, hardest—"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Horan, and listen to what I'm saying. I didn't have time for investigative journalism or whatever it's called this week."

Niall rocked back in the chair. "Didn't even google him?"

"Of course I googled him. But there are like 3.5 billion Harrys in this fucking town."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Can't really be that many. Have you picked up anything from him in person? What about his appearance?"

Louis thought for a moment. "He's tall-ish, curly brown hair that kinda flops over one eye, or he pushes it back. Or it goes everywhere. Looks good anyway. Gorgeous green eyes. Big smile. Dimples. I don't think he knows how attractive he is, know what I mean?"

Niall hid a laugh behind his hand.

"What?" Louis threw up his hands. "What do you want from me?"

"Real details, Lou! Come on mate, get it together. We need clues about his work, hobbies, what his habits are…"

Louis fumbled with his fringe. "Eh… he wears a long gray coat, looks expensive. Always with some kind of business clothes under it. Jumpers and shirts. You know, a professional. Nice fitting trousers. Oh! He wore a scarf the other day. Green."

Niall just blinked at him.

"What? Not good enough? What are you looking for, his fucking shoe size? I don't know it."

"Wish you did," said Niall. "Then we could, like, see if he steps in some mud, follow his tracks—"

"Great. You think my life is a fucking cartoon." Louis rolled his eyes.

"I was kidding, you twat," Niall flipped his middle finger. "Probably dangerous to be following some mystery man around anyway."

"He's not dangerous," Louis scoffed.

"No? How do you know? And why's he making you 'figure him out' before he goes out with you? Sounds like a fucking mind game, mate."

"Christ, I don't know. Maybe he's sensitive about something. Maybe he's famous."

"If he's famous, you'd have found him straight away on Google."

"Maybe he owns a coffee shop somewhere else in town. Competition."

"Why would he come here for coffee every day then?"

"Right. Eh, maybe…he's a stripper."

"You wish," Niall laughed and slapped a hand on the table. "Ooh, maybe he's in the mafia."

"Maybe he has seven cats."

"Seven roommates."

"Or he rollerblades—"

"Rollerblading’s so fucking stupid."

"Cheers to that," Louis held up his coffee cup and waited for Niall to raise his.

"Anyway Lou. Whoever he is, I just want you to be safe. There's something about you that attracts the weirdos."

"Thanks Niall. Really, thanks. You flatter me."

"Hey man. Takes one to know one, am I right?"

"Yeah but mate, I'm a grown man. And owner of a very busy business. I'm only ever here at the café. Where the hell am I supposed to meet people?"

"I'm just saying be safe, yeah? If anything feels suspicious, cut it off. And call me. And call the police. We don't want a repeat of all that."

"Fine."

SUNDAY

Louis spent most of Sunday laying on his sofa and researching every Harry around, at the university, in neighboring towns, and eventually on the dating apps—but there were no leads. He began to suspect that the man named Harry wasn't really named Harry at all. Irritable and tired, he pulled the AirPods from his ears and looked at the clock: well past dinner time.

"Fuck," he grumbled. "Still got another essay to write," he fumbled around for a cigarette, but the pack was empty. So, with a baseball cap pulled over his disheveled hair, he set out for the convenience store to restock. But when he opened the door, a brown bag with "For Lou" written on it in black ink sat on the threshold to his flat.

"What’s this?" he wondered aloud, peering into the bag.

"Hello?" he called down the stairs, but nobody answered. Against his better judgement, he took the bag inside to investigate. It held Chinese takeaway and two bottles of beer. The food was still warm. He was contemplating which neighbor could have left it for him, and more importantly, why, when he felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his hoodie.

Unknown: You're too busy to answer, so dinner's on me.

Louis: Who is this?

Unknown: That's the question, isn't it?

This unknown number wasn't Harry. He'd saved Harry's number with the Michael Jackson coffee cup as his profile pic.

Louis felt a chill race up his spine as vivid memories pushed into his mind. The sleepless nights, the constant fear of someone lurking, waiting to accost him, following him wherever he went. Fuck.

Louis: Don't contact me again. I've called the police.

He'd let his guard down. Just when he'd started to feel more comfortable, this happened. And even though his new flat had much better security, someone had still managed to get in.

He dialed Niall.

"'Ello?"

"I think it's happening again."

"Seriously?"

"There was a bag outside my door with my name on it. Then I got a text from an unknown number. They won't say who they are. I think it's really happening all over again." Louis dumped the food cartons and beer in the bin and scrubbed his hands.

"Should I come there?" asked Niall. "Or you want to come to mine?"

"I'll come to you."

"Okay, but wait there. I'll pick you up. You can stay here til we get this figured out. Pack a bag."

MONDAY

Louis had barely slept at all. Niall's sofa was horribly uncomfortable and he'd been up too late, finishing the essay he'd only turned in three minutes before the deadline. He couldn't really remember anything he'd written. It was probably complete garbage.

Now, he was scrutinizing every face that walked through the door, trying to determine if the person before him was capable of hunting him down, and invading his privacy with cryptic text messages, or baiting him with weird "gifts" at his door. After three hours of hyper-analysis, he was jumpy and barking orders at his staff, and he couldn't seem to stop.

"Jesus Christ, Tyler, empty the garbage bin, man," he groused. "How many times do I need to tell you."

"Just once boss."

"Pretty sure I said it five minutes ago, so why isn't it done?"

"Sorry, Lou. I'm on it." The young barista crept by Louis and pulled the bin toward the back door.

"No! You need to replace it before you go out!" he called. "We're busy dammit! What are we gonna do without a bin, did you think that out?"

"Lou!" Becca jumped in front of his face. "Take five."

"I can't!"

"Lou," Becca gripped his elbow and pulled him to the back door. "Go. Take a break. I'll replace the bin." She threw his jacket at him. "Tyler will be out there, so you won't be alone. Go relax for five minutes. Have a smoke. The customers will still be here when you get back."

"Fine," Louis mumbled and shoved his arms into the jacket.

Outside Tyler glanced at him warily and chucked the heavy garbage bag into the rubbish bin. "You okay man? You never yell."

"Sorry."

Tyler shrugged. "It's fine."

"It isn't fine. Nothing's fine," Louis sighed and sank onto a stack of crates.

"Can I do anything?"

"Just… sit here with me while I smoke?"

"Lou, Becca will kill me if I don't get back in there."

"Then I'll fire her."

Tyler grinned. "You wouldn't."

"Nah. I wouldn't. And she won't kill you either. So sit."

Tyler sat on a nearby stack and leaned back against the building. "Rough night?"

"Rough couple of years."

"Something happened though."

"Yeah. Something kinda… showed up at my door last night."

"Was it the stalker?"

"Ah. You heard about that."

"Yeah. Everybody in the group chat knows about it."

"Do you people talk about anything else besides me in that fucking group chat?"

"Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"We just care about you Lou. You're a great boss. Well, maybe not today. But most of the time."

"So what gets said about me in the group chat?"

"You want to see it?" Tyler said with a mischievous grin. "You can't tell Becca I showed you."

Louis took Tyler's phone and scrolled through the chat which was mainly people swapping shifts or inviting one another for drinks. But occasionally, there were pics of Louis looking high, or dopey, hair askew and some bizarre expression on his face, or doing something weird with his hands. And then there were the rear-view pics. Mostly posted by Becca.

"What the fuck is this?" Louis squawked. "Posting pictures of my arse?"

Tyler giggled like a child. "I know! It's so stupid! Look at this one!"

Tyler scrolled to a rather recent pic of him bent over the counter chatting to a customer. Harry.

"I could sue you all for sexual harassment," Louis rolled his eyes. "I can't believe Niall lets this happen. He and I will be having words."

"It's really only Becca who's obsessed with your bum, mate. And she's a lesbian, so I'm not really sure why. It's the longest running joke in the history of Coffee Clash apparently. I heard about it on my first day. 'Louis is a peach,' they told me, and everybody laughed."

"I really don't know how to feel about this."

Becca stuck her head out the back door. "Tyler. Louis. Get your arses back in here or there's going to be—"

"You want me to get my arse in there?" Louis stood with his hands on his hips. "This arse?" He turned around and pointed at his bum.

"Err…What?" Becca croaked.

Behind him Tyler snorted and snuffled as he tried to contain his laughter.

"That's the first time I've ever shut you up, Becca," said Louis. "Usually I'm the arse-end of the joke."

Becca narrowed her eyes at Tyler. "You. Inside. Now." She turned to Louis. "Look, I can explain—"

"There's nothing to explain, Becca. Now come on, we don't want to get behind do we? We'll be in the hole."

"Oh god, fuck this day," she muttered under her breath.

Back inside, the crowd was restless, verging on angry. "Thanks for your patience," Louis called out. "I have vouchers here for a free drink, anything you want, next time you come in. Just pick one up when you place your order." Some of the people turned to leave, but the majority settled in to wait a little longer.

"Hey," said a familiar voice, pulling his attention away from hand-signing each of the free drink certificates.

"Oh, Harry. Hi." Louis went back to signing.

"Are you… okay?"

Louis squinted his eyes. "Why do you ask? Wait, are you in the group chat too? Is everybody except me in the fucking group chat?"

"What group chat?"

"Oh. Good. That makes two of us at least."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Listen, about last night—"

Louis' eyes locked on Harry's face. "Last night? What about last night?"

"Oh. Uh, when I stopped by? I thought we could have dinner, but when you didn't come to the door, I sort of panicked and left the food—"

"Wait a minute. That was you? You came to my flat?"

"Yeah, but—"

"How did you get my address?"

"Well, you gave it to me—"

"No I did not. Fuck off."

Harry nodded and backed away. "So… you really did call the police then."

"The text messages were from you too!"

"Yeah," Harry hesitated. "Didn't you recognize the number?"

"No."

"Wait—did I text you from the other phone? Shit. I do that sometimes—"

"The other phone? Look, I don't know what this game is that you're playing Harry— if that's even your name. I wouldn't know since there is literally no record of you anywhere. But you can't give me zero information except fake names and then somehow get my phone number, my address, break into my building, and leave weird shit on my doorstep. How did you even get in anyway? It's fucking creepy."

Harry nodded again, his face stricken. "Right. Yeah. I see that. I'm sorry it bothered you. It was… spontaneous. I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong of me. I'll…"

"Harry. Just go. Leave me alone. The police are aware of the situation."

"Situation?" Harry's voice rose an octave.

"You heard him. Go," said Becca behind Louis.

"Right." Harry backed into the crowd.

Louis grabbed the waiting coffees and began calling out names. "Marcus, Inez, Patrice, Harry—"

But Harry was gone.

TUESDAY

"Harry Potter?" Louis called out, scanning the evening's final customers. "Mr. Potter. Your potion has been brewed." Louis slid the coffee down the bar and waited, wondering what he might do if another Harry were to appear at the end of the bar. A gangly ginger boy in a denim jacket stepped forward, his face nearly the same shade as his hair.

"May I help you, Mister Potter?" Louis said in his best imitation of Alan Rickman. The lad's eyes went wide and he could only shake his head and snatch the coffee cup, avoiding Louis' steely gaze as he hurried out of the café.

"Never to return again," Becca snickered as she swept the floor.

Louis looked up at the clock. "Go home Becca. You've been here as long as I have."

"Covering for Lydia, that's all. Gotta close up shop."

"Yeah well. You don't own this place. So go. I'll clean and lock up."

"Don't forget to restock the beans for the morning."

"Thanks for the reminder. Now go home."

He grabbed a spray bottle and a rag, wiped each table and straightened the chairs, sliding them into neat rows and picking bits of paper off of the floor. A face on a crumpled flyer made him stop in his tracks. It was a headshot of Harry beside the cover of a book.

——

An Evening with H. E. Styles

H. E. Styles, renowned detective and author of "Talk to Me" and "True and False" will present his research on the habits of serial killers. His talk will also feature a reading from his upcoming book "What's in a Name." Mr. Styles will conclude the presentation with a Q & A.

Wentworth Lecture Hall, Tuesday, 26th November, 7-9:30 PM

Free admittance with student ID

———

Louis snapped a picture of the leaflet and texted it to Niall.

Louis: Mystery man = H. E. Styles

Louis: famous detective

Niall: wot

Louis: Did u know?

Niall: No!

Louis: He was the one who left food at my door

Niall: ???

Louis: Told me this AM

Louis: I lost it

Louis: Said fuck off

Louis: I'm an arse

Niall: Correct

Louis: Speaking of group chat…

Niall: No

Niall: Who showed u?

Louis: Tyler

Niall: Fuck

Niall: Lost 20 quid

Niall: Norah said it would be him. I put my money on Colin

Louis: Who TF is Colin?

Niall: Doesn't matter. I lost

Louis: Might go 2 talk

Niall: Half done. Look at ur watch

Louis: Don't have one

Niall: Want company?

Louis: If u want

Niall: Grand

——

Niall was waiting outside the lecture hall when Louis arrived. During a round of applause they slipped into seats at the back of the room.

"That was enlightening, Mr. Styles," a willowy woman in a blue pantsuit and a high bun spoke into a microphone. "It's always so exciting when we at the university get a sneak preview of an author's work before its official launch."

"It's my pleasure, Dr. Brown. And please, as I've said, call me Harry."

"Alright, Mr.—Harry," the woman said, then turned to face the crowd.

"We're going to give our guest a short break, and then we'll jump back into the Q & A portion of the evening. Feel free to get up and stretch your legs. Restrooms are just outside the doors you came in."

Louis looked around the room and was shocked by the number of people holding books with Harry's face smiling on the cover.

"Were we supposed to bring one of his books to this thing?" Louis whispered to Niall.

"No clue," Niall shrugged.

"I can't believe he's going to be teaching here!" squealed a girl in the row before them.

"Me either! I feel so bad for Genevieve, she's graduating. She'll miss it," said another, slinging her arm around the girl next to her.

"Don't remind me," moaned Genevieve.

"Do you think he's single?" asked another girl in their row.

The first girl giggled. "Why don't you ask him in the Q & A?"

"No, you ask him!" The girl fired back, and the group dissolved in laughter.

Niall elbowed Louis in the ribs. "Alright man?"

"Yeah," Louis exhaled. "Just… had no fucking idea he was so—"

"Alright everyone, we're back," came Dr. Brown's voice over the sound system. "David will be walking around with the microphone, so if you have a question just raise your hand and he'll come to you."

Nearly every hand in the room shot into the air.

"Ha ha ha," came a familiar laugh through the speaker overhead. Louis looked down the rows of stadium seating to Harry, casually leaning on the podium as if it were only the café counter, and there weren't five hundred enraptured students staring at him. He wore a smart charcoal suit with a shimmery blue shirt unbuttoned at the neck and no tie.

"Sorry everyone, I don't think I'll get to all of your questions tonight, but we'll get through a lot of them. Now then, who's going first? How about… You, miss, in the gorgeous turquoise jumper."

There was a collective murmur of excitement as the man called David handed the microphone to the girl in turquoise.

"Yeah, um Hi! Hi Harry!" The girl said breathlessly.

"Hello! What's your name?"

"Oh! Ha ha! Um, I'm Samantha. But you can call me Sammy."

Harry grinned. "Right. Well then Sammy, what's your question?"

The girl looked around the auditorium full of expectant faces and froze. "Oh god. I think… I think… I've forgotten it."

The entire room erupted in laughter, as the poor girl melted back into her seat with her head in her hands.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you Sammy. If you remember your question, I'm sure David will come back to you. Who's next?"

"Hi Mr. Styles," a young man in a blue tracksuit stood to ask his question.

"Just Harry please."

"Oh. Sorry. Harry, there's a rumor going around that you'll be teaching here next term. I was wondering—"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that at the moment," said Harry. "But I'm hoping to have more information to share in the next week." A cheer went up around the room.

David handed the microphone to another person.

"Harry, what's been your toughest case?"

"Oh without a doubt the Smithfield murders. That one still haunts me. I wish I could have done more for those folks."

Louis watched the sea of people nod their heads.

"I feel like I'm spying on a cult meeting," Louis whispered to Niall behind his hand.

"Maybe we are," Niall murmured.

Louis heard "David, I think I'll take that question way up there in the back row, the man in the gray jumper."

And then, several things happened at once.

He looked down to his favorite gray hoodie, then up to the full auditorium of people now turning toward him, and quickly lowered his hand from his face. Harry's eyes were laser-focused on him as David bounded up the final few steps to push the microphone into his hand.

"You haven't come to heckle me have you?" asked Harry.

"No," Louis croaked into the mic, jumping at the sound of his own voice amplified by the speaker overhead.

"I, uh…" Louis cleared his throat and rose to his feet. "I guess…my question… If I could ask a question… which—as I have the mic—I can."

Laughter rippled across the hall.

Louis took a deep breath. "I guess I would like to know what it's like to have… you know… relationships… when you're a detective. A famous one. Such as yourself."

His heart was pounding in his chest, but he went on.

"Like you have access to all sorts of personal, private information, databases full of it, I'm sure. You can probably find out anything about anyone, and—"

"I'm glad you asked that," Harry interrupted. "It's quite an important question." He left the podium to begin walking the stage, surveying the crowd, one hand in the pocket of his elegant trousers.

"People will often assume that as investigators, we can and will pry into their personal data. But we must not do that." He stopped to look up at Louis, before continuing his path. "Not outside of the cases we work on, and only in accordance with the law. It's important that we maintain that integrity for legal reasons, but for personal ones too."

Harry took a deep breath and turned to face the audience. "Look, I'd be lying if I said my career doesn't put people off sometimes." He fumbled with the microphone and ran a hand through his hair.

Was he nervous?

Louis felt his stomach squeeze.

"And to be fair, I'll admit there are times when I'd love to piece together someone's back story," Harry continued. "Because it's fun to solve puzzles, right?" he smiled at the crowd, who nodded in response.

"And people are the most interesting puzzles. But relationships aren't something you solve. I've learned that the hard way." Harry’s eyes found Louis in the crowd again. "They're something you build."

Maybe a part of Louis had meant to heckle Harry. Maybe he’d wanted to make him squirm in front of all these people who adored him like some modern-day prophet. But as Harry gazed up at him, a strange flutter in Louis’ chest stole his breath.

"Respecting what you choose to share with me and what you keep private is what builds trust, not what I could uncover in sneaky, backhanded ways. So…" Harry sighed. "Look. I'll be honest. Without trust… Well then… there is no relationship."

The girls in the row before Louis collectively turned to look at him.

"Sorry. That got a little personal," Harry chuckled, moving back behind the podium. "Who's next, David?"

Louis didn't hear the rest of the questions, only vaguely feeling Niall's elbow in his ribs from time to time, as the girls in front of him whispered and glanced over their shoulders.

Eventually, the presentation came to an end.

"Earth to Lou. Let's go, man." Niall was saying in his ear, but Louis couldn't move. His eyes were trained on Harry, now pushing through the crowded aisle, shaking off the hands that reached for him, ignoring the faces that begged for his attention.

Headed for him.

"Shit," he mumbled.

"Lou," Harry called breathlessly, stepping into the now empty row of seats before them. "Hey, I'm glad you came."

"Yeah,” Louis nodded. “Guess I know who you are now."

"Partly," Harry shrugged. "Not all of it, obviously."

"Mr. Styles, um Harry, can you sign my book?" A red-faced woman appeared at his elbow.

"Sorry, not right now. But if you go out in the hall and join the queue, I'll be out there momentarily. Just follow the signs."

"Oh, okay," the woman looked disappointed.

"You're busy. I'll let you go." Louis stood and turned to join the stream of people exiting the hall.

"No!" Harry's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Listen, can I just…Can I explain? Lou—"

"First of all, it's not Lou. It's Louis."

"Oh." Harry looked taken aback. "Sorry, I thought Becca—"

"Yeah. Becca calls me Lou. But I've known her for six years. So."

"Right. Okay. Louis."

"I'll be waiting for you out there in the hall Lou," Niall said, squeezing his shoulder.

"Thanks man," Louis said, turning back to Harry.

"Who's he?" Harry asked, watching Niall walk away.

Louis shrugged. "Friend."

"Look, Louis, I'm sorry that I surprised you with dinner. I thought you'd think it was fun, but obviously I was way out of line. I didn't intend to invade your privacy."

Louis felt an inexplicable anger building in his core.

"You didn't intend to? You didn’t intend to look up my private phone number, my home address?  You didn't convince the doorman to let you in?" Louis crossed his arms over his chest. "And how do you not realize you’re texting someone from the other phone, whatever that means? All this, after that speech you just gave." He shook his head. "No. You investigated me, just like you said here that you wouldn't."

Harry bristled as people began to take note of Louis’ angry tone.

"Louis please–"

"What other information did you collect?"

"I didn't investigate you Louis, not like you're saying. Becca gave me your number because—"

"Becca gave you my number?"

"She really cares about you Louis. She wants you to be happy."

Louis had threatened to fire Becca many times. But this was the first time he felt he might do it. 

"That is—I'll kill her. Why didn't she tell me? Did she give you my address too?"

"No. You gave it to me," Harry said.

"For fuck’s sake Harry, I did not give you my address."

"I guess you didn't mean to." Harry’s eyes were downcast as he reached into his back pocket. He pulled a slip of pink paper from his wallet and unfolded it.

There in his hand was Louis' address, in his sister's handwriting. A scrap torn from an envelope that had held a thank you card, now pinned to the wall in his office.

"Oh fuck me," he groaned, feeling like an idiot.

"I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have kept this. You meant for me to write my own number on it, but I was… a little bit… I dunno. Scared? No, not of you. I just mean smitten. Er, excited. Oh god, I sound like… Fuck. I'm so bad at—"

"It's fine Harry. It's whatever."

Harry took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. "Anyway. I'd like the chance to make it up to you, Louis. If I could."

Louis felt all the fight leaving him, and in its place, exhaustion. "Harry… I don't know. I'm tired now. I'll… see you."

"Oh." Louis watched Harry's face fall. "Right. See you. Thanks for coming to my talk."

WEDNESDAY

"Marilyn Monroe, your order's up." Louis slid the vanilla latte to the blonde girl bouncing on her toes at the end of the bar.

"No jokes today?" she asked.

"Sorry luv. I'm fresh out."

"Oh. I was hoping you'd say something about diamonds being a girl's best friend," she beamed and wiggled her fingers where a shiny ring gleamed.

"Oh, wow. Congratulations then. Cheers." Louis looked around the café. "Everyone, Ms. Monroe is off the market," he called.

The girl beamed and was immediately swarmed by customers' hugs and murmurs of good luck.

"Best wishes," he called after her and turned back to the blenders.

"Hey," a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. Louis turned to see Harry's creased brow, as he twisted his long fingers together.

"Are you actually wringing your hands?" Louis asked. "I've heard of people doing that but I don't think I've seen it happen ‘til now."

"Oh," Harry huffed and attempted a smile. "I guess, yeah." He pulled his hands apart and stuffed them in his pockets. "I just wanted to apologize, Lou. I mean Louis. Again."

"Look, Harry, one apology was enough. I'm not angry. Not now. Just tired. I've had a lot going on."

"Yeah. Me too. I'm headed out of town. So. Wanted to say bye as well."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, just til next term. I'm wrapping up my last active case, and then… Fucking hell. University professor. Can't even believe it. Bit nerve wracking."

"You took the position."

Harry nodded. “The talk was the last step. My audition, so to speak. They offered me the position right after… well after you left.”

"Excuse me," said someone behind Harry. "Could I get around you, I just need my coffee."

"Lou," Becca shoved two coffees onto the stainless counter between them. "Move. Take this conversation someplace that isn't this counter." She bumped him with her hip.

"Becca, the café is busy, I can’t—“

"Lou. Go," said Becca. "You're in the way."

"Do you have a few minutes?" Louis turned to Harry.

"Yeah of course."

"Let's take a walk," Louis grabbed his jacket and followed Harry toward the door.

"Lou," Becca called.

"What now?" Louis sighed.

"Be safe."

"Just taking a walk, Becca."

"Got your phone?"

"Yes."

"You call me if you need anything. I'll be right there."

Louis smiled. "Thanks."

Outside Harry was winding his green scarf around his neck. "Brrr. Maybe we should have stayed in the warm café, Louis."

"Eh. It's nice to get out in the world sometimes." He gestured to a garbage bin that had blown into the street. "See the sights."

Harry chuckled and began meandering down the pavement.

"So, is it Professor Styles, or just Harry?" Louis asked.

Harry blew the steam away from his coffee. "I'm not allowed to be just Harry," he sighed. "University rules. They were rather dismayed when I made everyone call me by my first name in the talk."

"Are you sure that stuffy environment is right for you?"

Harry stopped walking and turned to Louis. "You say that like you know me."

"Oh. I… I guess I just don't get the vibe that you're stuffy is all."

"Hmmm." Louis watched Harry fight his dimples. "What other vibes do you get from me?"

"Well…" Louis looked down as steam from his cup was spirited away in the wind. "I get the vibe that…" Louis thought for a moment. "I think you like fashion. I think you eat sushi and avocado toast. And watch cheesy Hallmark movies on the weekends."

Harry snorted. "These vibes are rather specific."

Louis grinned. "I bet you have a hobby like collecting stamps or bottle caps. No–Pez dispensers! And I think you like weird sports. Oh shit. You're a rollerblader, aren't you? I fucking knew it."

Harry laughed. "I have rollerbladed, but I wouldn't call myself a rollerblader."

"Close enough," Louis said, with a shrug. "And you're a bookworm."

"I do read a lot. And you?"

"More than I like. But I plan to put the books away for a long time after finals. Good riddance."

"What are you studying?"

"Guess," Louis said, sipping his coffee.

"Oh. Hmm. Maybe… Civil Engineering."

Louis laughed. "How did you come up with that?"

"Okay, not that then. How about…. Veterinary science?"

"What kind of detective are you? These are shit guesses."

"Journalism."

"Now you're taking the piss."

"I am," Harry laughed. "It's…. something hands-on though. Like… sports medicine?"

"Nahhh. Thought about it once. But no. I'm just finishing up my M.B.A."

"Business? Really? Huh." Harry said, taking a sip, and wincing. "Fuck, Becca makes a hot cup of coffee."

"Are you surprised that I'd want to study business?"

"You just seem so active, and business people… I feel like they're always behind a desk."

"Not me, mate. On my feet all day long. Owning a coffee shop is a very active profession."

Harry wheeled around on him. "You own the café?"

Louis blinked at him. "You didn't know? Yeah, it's mine. And I've got plans to open another next autumn. And if all goes well, a third the following year."

"I…. I just thought you worked there."

"Of course I work there, it's my café," Louis chuckled.

"So Becca's not your boss?"

"She fucking thinks she is," said Louis. "But no. I hired her so long ago it feels like we're family now. She's just as bossy as my sisters are, I'll tell you that." Louis stopped to look at his hair in a shop window, and was dismayed to see it flying in all directions.

"What else don't I know about you?" Harry asked, gazing at Louis' reflection in the glass.

"Everything, I guess," Louis said, walking on. "You know Harry, you could have just told me about being a detective and your books and so on."

Harry shook his head. "Ehh. It's one thing to tell someone about my career. But somehow, once they experience it, they feel differently. It's… an issue."

Harry was staring down at his toes with a furrowed brow and twisted mouth. Finally he looked up. "I thought maybe it could be fun. Just to see you figure it out."

"It didn't work out the way you imagined though, did it? You broke your own rules of the game, showing up at my flat."

Harry turned to fix Louis with an earnest gaze. "I didn't think you'd be so upset by that." A gust of wind whipped his hair as he shielded his eyes from the morning sun. "And by the way, it was Mrs. Timmons who escorted me into the building."

"Mrs. Timmons? The one with the chihuahua?"

"It's a dachshund," Harry smiled. "Anyway, I didn't mean to freak you out."

Louis tucked his chin down inside his collar to escape the wind. "I know that now, Harry. Look, I think I should tell you, my life got pretty weird a few years ago. I had a stalker."

"What?” Harry stopped walking. “Fucking hell, Louis! Were they caught?"

"Yeah. Old news. But he was always hanging around the café, interfering when I went out with friends… I tried to ignore it. But when he got access to my building, and started showing up at my flat, always with some kind of bizarre gift… I had to call the police."

"So when you saw the bag left I left at your door…" Harry looked mortified.

"Right, and I didn't recognize the number on my phone, so my imagination went into overdrive."

"I feel like such an arse."

"Don't. You didn't know."

"I could have found that out," Harry said, green eyes flashing. 

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

"I could have at least done a better job of reassuring you that I'm merely a fashionable bookworm who may or may not rollerblade."

Louis chuckled. "Don't sell yourself short, H.E. Styles, author, university professor and renowned detective."

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes.

"No," Louis sighed. "I'm glad you didn't dig into my personal records, Harry. I think if you had… I might not want to kiss you right now."

"What?" Harry's head whipped around so fast Louis had to laugh.

"You heard me." Louis pulled the coffee cup from Harry's hand and tossed it in a nearby garbage bin.

"What if I wasn't finished with that?"

Louis slid his hands inside the long wool coat, feeling the solid warmth of Harry's ribs under his freezing hands.

"I'll fix you another."

"Do you want to go on a date?" Harry asked, gazing at Louis' lips. "Now that you know who I am?"

"Yes," Louis said, leaning closer. "And I want to know everything about you." He kissed Harry, tasting coffee and something minty.

Harry sighed and pulled their bodies flush. He kissed Louis harder, the tip of his tongue tracing over Louis' lips. Louis let him in, getting lost in the feeling of broad hands traveling down his back, pulling him close, a thigh pressed to his groin.

"Harry, wait," he gasped. "Wait."

"Wait? Wait for what, Louis?" Harry murmured against his jaw, rolling his hips forward.

"We're on the street," Louis said. "Broad daylight. Students." He attempted to push Harry back, but his own body resisted.

"You chatted me up very loudly every day for a week in the café," Harry kissed him again. "You didn't care who was watching then."

"Mmmm." Louis melted into Harry’s kiss and the warmth inside his long wool coat. "But you weren't a stuffy professor then. You were just a mystery."

Harry laughed, gripping Louis' hips. "And you were just a hot barista that I couldn't wait to flirt with every morning."

"And who are we now?"

"Not sure yet," said Harry. "But I want to find out."

1 YEAR LATER

"My hot boyfriend?" Louis called out over the café, looking for the curly head he'd left in bed two hours ago.

"My hot boyfriend, where are you?" Louis called as Becca groaned behind him.

"I'm going to be sick, I swear," she grumbled.

"Hey babe," Harry leaned over the counter.

Louis stroked a thumb over Harry's smooth cheek. "I hate leaving you in the morning," he said, kissing him.

"I hate it too. Let's quit our jobs and run away to Bora Bora."

"Why Bora Bora?"

"It's been on my mind. Have you seen those little huts on stilts built out over the lagoon? White sand, turquoise water, palm trees, solitude…"

"That sounds great."

"Mmm," Harry hummed as he kissed him again, and Louis added Bora Bora to his list of places he wanted to be naked with Harry.

"Get a room," Becca sighed.

"We were just discussing that, Becca," Louis said, pressing his forehead against Harry's.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Harry said, pulling back. "That pic from yesterday, Becs." Harry kissed his fingertips. "Mwah."

"I thought you would approve," Becca smirked.

"What pic?" Louis asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "We better not be talking about what I think we're talking about."

"What do you think we're talking about?" Harry blinked innocently as Becca turned away.

"Becca?" Louis raised his voice. "What pic?"

"Shh, Lou. I'm taking an order."

"What picture, Harry?"

"Don't worry Lou, it's just cute."

"What cute picture, Harry?"

"It's just…"

"We're really busy, Louis," said Becca. "You should kiss your hot boyfriend goodbye so we can get back to work."

"No! Wait a minute," Louis felt the heat rising from his chest to his hairline. "You didn't add him to the group chat, did you? Tell me you didn't Becca."

"I'll show you the picture Lou," said Tyler, pulling out his phone.

"Thank you Tyler, I'm giving you a raise. Since you're the only honest person in this place."

"Really?" Tyler's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, and you can take Becca's job."

"Don't you dare, Louis Tomlinson," said Becca over her shoulder.

"No thanks," Tyler said. "Don't want it anyway." He handed Louis his phone, open to the group chat.

"What the fuck?" Louis squawked. The three most recent posts were pics of his bum. And on each one someone named H had commented with a peach emoji.

Harry was behind him giggling. "Can I come around?"

"No!" Louis shouted. "You're not an employee! You stay over there! And who let you in the group chat?"

"They shall remain nameless," Harry said, coming behind the counter to wrap his arms around Louis' waist and hook his chin over his shoulder. "Babe, come on. Notifications of your bum pics are the highlight of my day."

"You people are sick," Louis grumbled and scrolled through the texts.

"Stop!" Harry said. "There it is! That's the one."

"What, this pic?"

It was a picture of Louis in profile, a strange look on his face, his eyelashes illuminated by the sun.

"What? What is it about this pic? It's just my face."

"That's how you look when you watch Harry leave the shop, Lou. You look like a sappy, lovesick puppy dog," said Becca.

"I do not."

"You do, actually," said Tyler, pulling his phone from Louis' hand.

"Forget what I said,Tyler. You're fired."

Becca cackled.

"I have to get to class," Harry pressed his lips to Louis' temple and squeezed his bum.

"You're not an employee but you got added to the group chat. Now you're behind the counter. What's next? Are you going to start making coffee drinks? Writing weird names on people's cups?"

"Sure," said Harry, swiping a cup from the stack and pulling the marker from behind Louis' ear. He scribbled something and made a show of filling the cup with coffee. Finally he put a lid on it and handed it to Louis.

"What—" Louis read the scribble on the side of the cup. "Oh god."

"Go ahead Lou, call it out. Who's that coffee for?"

"I'm not yelling this."

"Fine, then I'll do it," said Harry with a grin. He swiped the cup from Louis and held it aloft. "Peaches? Your order is up, sweet cheeks. Is there a peach here? Oh why yes, here he is," Harry giggled and pressed his lips to Louis' scowl.

"I hate that nickname."

"You love it."

"No I do not."

"You love me."

"Well… sometimes." Louis grumbled.

"No, you love me all the time."

"Not when you call me Peaches."

"You liked it last night," Harry murmured in Louis' ear.

"You don't even work here. Get out."

Harry kissed him again. "Want to go to Bora Bora with me over winter break, Peaches?"

"No."

"No? I guess I'll have to take Becca then," he sighed and walked back around the counter.

"Eeew, no," said Becca, handing a spray bottle and a rag to Louis. "Go clean something."

"You really don't want to go to Bora Bora?" Harry asked, winding his scarf around his neck. "In the little huts on the water? What do you think? We'll plan it tonight."

"I think I'd like a different nickname."

"Okay, I'll work on it."

"And I want to be in the group chat."

Harry rolled his eyes and headed to the door. "You can't be Lou. You're not an employee."

"But what about you! What are you then?"

"I'm your hot boyfriend." Harry winked. 

Louis was trying not to smile when Harry paused, one hand on the doorframe and a fond look on his face.

"What?" Louis asked.

"Nothing," Harry grinned. "Just wanted to see you make that face in person."

"Got the shot from behind too," said Becca in Louis' ear. "I'll put it in the chat."