Work Text:
There is a giant stuffed moose head in Niall's office.
"Harry!" he's yelling before he's even crossed the threshold. He keeps blinking at the moose, hoping it will transform itself into a legal document of some kind.
Quick as anything there's a flurry behind him and - "I can explain."
"Harold."
"I can explain!"
"Harry, that's a moose. There's a moose. In my office."
Hands help Niall slip out of his jacket and hang it on the coat rack behind his door. Niall takes a few steps in, peers close at the moose. He was so close to having a nice morning. There wasn't a single national emergency on the news and there were enough Cheerios left in the box for an entire bowl.
He should have known.
"The President brought back gifts from his trip to Toronto," Harry says, eyeing the moose with intensity. "He put them all out in the Oval Office for people to pick which ones they wanted. I- um. You weren't here yet. So I picked for you."
Niall blinks at Harry. Harry blinks, rather owlishly, back.
"You couldn't have picked a nice bottle of maple syrup?"
"You can get maple syrup anywhere. I thought you would like something more - unique."
"Harry-"
"I'll get rid of it."
"Thank you." Niall puts his bag down on the table next to his desk. "What do we have today?"
"Meeting with Sandra and Danny," Harry says, and now that the moose is dealt with he's fluttering around the office. He opens Niall's drapes, flooding the room with light, and moves the cushion on Niall's seat so it's a bit more comfy. "Then something with Louis, I think he wants to go over the new clean energy policy. At three, Amy Stanford from the Women's Literacy Foundation has a meeting with you."
"Did you bring me a coffee?"
"No, Niall. I'm your assistant, not your servant."
"I know that but - one coffee? Once? That would kill you?"
"Do you need me to clarify anything on the schedule, Niall?" Harry asks, primly, holding his hands behind his back so he looks like a butler out of an Agatha Christie novel. "Or can I go back to doing actual work?"
"Hm. Did you have a nice weekend?"
"Yeah." Harry's smile grows like a sunflower. "Gemma came down from Hartford and we went to the Smithsonian and the Eastern Market and the Holocaust Museum. It was cool, to be a tourist for the day."
Niall nods, stopping when his eyes catch on something in the document he's skimming. "Can you get someone from the Department of Labor on the phone, please?"
When he looks up Harry has a little furrow between his brows. "What?"
"Aren't you even going to say that my weekend sounded fun?"
"Harry, this is kind of important."
"So is my existence, Niall. I don't live just to open your curtains and make phone calls for you and bend to your every whim-"
"Harry."
"Fine," Harry huffs, turning on his heel.
"Your weekend sounded fun!" Niall calls back through the open door, settling into his spinny chair. "And don't forget about the moose!"
"You're misunderstanding the point-"
"No I think I'm understanding it perfectly," Niall says, pacing back and forth. He's a pacer, likes to move while he's thinking. He steps along the familiar groves in the Roosevelt Room's floor and looks up at old Ted for inspiration. "You want to add an amendment to the new gun legislative. What you don't understand is that it's impossible."
"It is not impossible."
"No it is. It really is."
Niall rolls his shoulders. One creaks loudly and he idly wonders if he should get it checked out. He makes a mental note to tell Harry to set a doctor's appointment for him.
"Restricting the purchase of handguns would greatly decrease violence and crime in the United States," Sandra says, pointing at something in her little binder.
"I agree."
"They have no use outside of harming another person's life."
"Again, I agree."
"So if you and I and the President all agree, then what is the issue?"
"The bill will never pass Congress if we add an amendment banning handguns." Niall shrugs, hearing the left shoulder pop! once more. "That's all there is to it."
"We don't know that."
"We do, actually. If we supported the restriction of handguns we would have a nation to answer to. And I'm not just talking about Republicans in Georgia. There are a hell of a lot of guns in Michigan, and President Grimshaw won Michigan by about three votes."
Sandra looks down at her binder, glares. Niall's known her since law school. She was in his seminar on human rights and the environment in Harvard, used to sit behind him during Docherty's lectures and click her pen.
She had to know they wouldn't get anywhere with this meeting. They never do.
"I have an eleven o'clock briefing with Matt," Niall says, consulting his watch to be sure. "We'll take a look at the amendment for next year. Maybe, at that time…"
"What, the world will have changed?"
"I know it's infuriating." Niall grabs his folders, binders, his lucky pen. "Exhausting. But we'll get there."
He leaves the Roosevelt Room and immediately bumps into Harry.
"Jesus!"
"Hi," Harry says, reaching for Niall's binder and replacing it with a new one. "Matt is waiting for you in his office. That's the material on fracking he wanted you to look over."
"Awesome." Niall opens the folder, starts skimming. Harry's helpful little arrows and post-it notes are all over the document.
"Also I got rid of the moose."
"Hm?"
"Remember that guy I was sort of seeing last October?"
Niall stops and Harry does too. "The guy who was a Republican Congressman? That guy you were kind of seeing?"
"Yeah."
"You haven't started seeing him again, have you?" Niall asks, peering into Harry's big moon eyes to look for his tell. "I thought my list of reasons why it is a horrible idea and also bad for the President was enough for you to-"
"I haven't started seeing him again."
"Good." Niall could really go for a donut. He wonders if asking Harry to bring him one would get him a lecture about objectification and toxic masculinity.
"But he's really into hunting - that's actually mostly why I didn't go on the third date - anyways, he likes to hunt! So I gave the moose to him. He said thanks."
"Excellent."
They reach the Chief of Staff's office and Harry goes in first, because he frequently forgets that Niall is his actual boss. He's already perched on the edge of Ian's desk when Niall enters.
"-She has no idea!" Ian is saying to Harry, the glow from the computer screen making his wide eyes even creepier. "They didn't tell her before she walked into the meeting."
"Unbelievable."
"You two are worse than a bunch of grandmothers, the way you gossip."
"Uh huh." Harry swings his legs out playfully, catching Niall's shin. He looks like a little kid in his first communion suit. He turns to Ian to stage-whisper: "Niall's just jealous because he's always the last one to know about what's going on. He had to find out from the night janitor in our office that Liam and Sophia split."
"You're a menace."
Harry grins. Niall winks and goes into Matt's office.
"Niall," Matt calls from his desk. He's fiddling around on his laptop, glasses perched on his nose, but he stands when Niall approaches him. "Did you have time to look over the information on fracking?"
"Briefly. Harry highlighted the important points."
"Good. Coffee?"
"Please."
Matt goes to the machine in the corner and pours him one into a white mug with the President's seal on the front. Niall's life is unbelievable, most days.
"Thanks, Matt," Niall says, taking a sip. Between law school, campaigning, and now being the Deputy Chief of Staff, Niall is basically eighty eight percent caffeine. The majority of the people he spends his days with are similarly made up. It really makes him wonder if they should be in charge of the world's largest military.
"Ready to go in?"
Niall finishes his coffee and leaves the mug on the table. He follows Matt into the Oval Office.
Niall joined Nick Grimshaw's campaign for presidency in 2019.
Nick Grimshaw wasn't the typical presidential nominee. He was born in Brooklyn and never grew out of his accent, certain words slurring out of his mouth in a friendly way. He's not Ivy League bred, grew up in a middle-class home, and has a tendency to blare pop music in any room he's been in for longer than fifteen minutes.
Hearing the man speak is what sealed the deal for Niall. He was in Queens to meet a friend and heard through the grapevine that the reasonably hip Governor of New York was giving a speech and was thinking of running for president. Niall went, bought a drink, and thought about leaving the whole time. And then Nick started speaking.
Within the month Niall had quit his job at a well-to-do law firm and was working out of a pop-up office in Brooklyn. He was making phone calls 23 hours a day, running off coffee and dreams, and kicking a soccer ball around with Louis, assistant communications director, in their spare time. He was up to his ears in work and loving every second of it.
Enter Harry Styles.
Harry came into his life like a rather clumsy comet. One day Niall was sitting, reading a new speech Fiona was working on for Governor Grimshaw's rally in New Hampshire later that week. Out of nowhere, a kid in a beanie and a dress shirt with a pink pimple on his chin came in and started organizing Niall's stuff.
At first, Niall was at a loss. He let the stranger hang up his jacket and clear away his Chinese takeout box from lunch. After a long moment of watching, he eventually spoke up:
"Can I help you?"
The stranger grinned bright at him. "I'm Harry! I'm your new assistant."
Niall blinked.
"Would you mind-" Harry asked, gesturing to Niall's hand. Niall let him take the coffee mug he had been using all day. "Thanks. Stephanie said this is your fourth cup of coffee today."
Niall could not quite remember the plot. "Yeah. What?"
"Too much coffee isn't good for you."
"I know that. Who are you?"
"I'm Harry. I'm going to be your new-"
"Who hired you?"
"Stephanie," Harry said, turning to clean up more of Niall's shit. He was moving papers into little piles and binders from their spot on his desk and-
"Hey, I need that!"
"Okay, okay, you didn't have to yell."
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Niall peered at Harry. Harry looked back, nonplussed. "Where are you from?"
"Madison."
"Wisconsin?"
"Yeah. Go Packers!"
Jesus. Niall rubbed the side of his head. "Are you another poli sci student from Columbia that Stephanie met over the weekend? She keeps sending me those."
Harry's cheeks went scarlet. "No."
"Where did you go to school?"
Some muttering. Niall leaned closer to hear - "Pardon?"
"I have a Bachelor's in English literature."
Niall blinked. "From where?"
"…the University of Minnesota."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"It's a good school! Bob Dylan went there."
"It might be," Niall said, reaching to get his mug back from Harry. Harry held on tight. "Everyone in this office is Ivy League trained. I spent four years at Yale and another four at Harvard Law School."
"You're being a snob."
"I don't care! You don't have the training required for this job. Give me my coffee."
"No. It's bad for you to have so much. I can make you a smoothie? One with fresh fruit and seeds. I think you'd like it a lot."
Niall passed by him into the main office. Harry followed behind at a quick pace, his voice at a similar speed.
"I know my transcripts might not be as good as everyone else here, but I learn really quickly. I have a lot of passion and I've always been interested in politics. And I know, I know, that you could choose anyone you want for this job, but I think I'd be really good at it. I know I would be."
"That's great, but-"
"Niall!" Harry's eyes were wild, green and huge in his face. Niall let him speak. "I promise I'm going to try my hardest to be the best assistant in the whole world. The best assistant in the universe. Just give me a chance."
He was standing with his shoulders in, posture all shit. He was still a college kid for Christ's sake, orange beanie holding back his hair. Niall would bet everything he has that Harry was sleeping on the futon of some person's AirBNB and hadn't washed his hair in three days.
"Is this your first time in New York?"
Harry looked surprised by the question. "Um. I went with a school trip in freshman year. We saw Lion King on Broadway. It was incredible."
"When did you get in?"
"Last night," Harry said, looking down at his shoes. He had on a pair of scruffy brown boots. Niall thought he could just see through to a pink sock. "I had to leave Minneapolis. I- my boyfriend. He wasn't very nice."
Niall takes a big breath in. Harry looks up from his shoes.
"I'm going back to Boston tomorrow, to visit my parents," Niall says, watching Harry's eyes go confused. "I need to book a train."
After a second, Harry's brows clear up. "Oh. Oh! I can do that."
"And I'm going to need a new cup of coffee."
"No Niall," Harry said, shaking his head. "I won't let you die under my watch. I'll get you a smoothie from around the corner. They make the most amazing blueberry-passion fruit medleys-"
Niall went back to his office, a trailing, rambling Harry behind him. He smiled the whole way.
"Do I need the black sweater and the blue sweater?"
"Yes. Pass me your sunglasses, please."
"I need two sweaters?"
"It's cold in North Dakota, Niall."
"Yeah, but not two sweaters cold."
Harry gave him an unimpressed look and continued to fold Niall's things. He claimed he knew how to fold t-shirts better than Niall because he 'worked at Old Navy for two weeks in sophomore year'. Niall isn't about to argue with logic like that.
"Get me another beer, would you?"
"When did you become the boss of this relationship?"
Harry just looked at him. Niall went to go get his beer. He had a bunch of beer in his fridge, the product of constantly inviting people over for meetings-come-football games over a weekend. Harry only ever drank Heineken.
After Harry finishes packing (and triple checking that Niall's passport is in the pocket on his carry-on reserved for his passport) they fall onto Niall's sofa. There's college basketball on so they drink their beers and watch, Niall's feet up on his coffee table, Harry's criss cross applesauce.
"What's your favourite thing about Boston?"
Niall cuts his eyes over to Harry. He's not looking at Niall, still staring at the game with a monotone look on his face, sipping slowly from his beer. Niall shrugs, looks back to the television.
"Dunno," he says, drinking from his beer. "I like the snow. I like the markets, in the summer. I like the sky there. Skies always feel different, don't they?"
"The Wisconsin sky is the best sky," Harry says, before smiling.
"It was a good place to live. And I liked doing law there, after New Haven. New Haven's a fucking ghost town. Cambridge feels like New York City, after you've been stuck at Yale for four years."
"Ah, to be privileged enough to say 'stuck at Yale'." Harry looks at Niall, winks. "I was just wondering. I've never been before."
"Never?"
"Nope. Always wanted to. Gem and I keep planning this crazy road trip that starts in Boston and ends in Seattle but it never makes it past stage one."
Niall turns, back against the arm of the sofa. Harry's rambling, slow voice is more interesting than some dumb college basketball game. "What's stage one?"
"We buy maps of all places we want to go," Harry says, turning to face Niall too. His face is half shadowed like this and he looks so different from the kid that stumbled into Niall's life three years ago. Older. "And we bring them up to my step dad's cottage in Gill's Rock. And then we draw this crazy road trip, stops in all these little towns and places that sound cool. It's really fun."
"Gill's Rock?"
"It's on Lake Michigan. It goes way back in Robin's family. Takes four hours to get there."
"Must be a nice place."
"It is. You should come, some time. You'd like it, I think."
"You should come with me to Boston, some time."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. They'd love you in Boston."
Harry looks down at his beer, then up at the television. Niall follows his gaze. Southern Indiana are down by 6 to Indiana State. Niall looks back up at Harry, watches his big pink mouth twist itself silly.
"You okay?"
"What was your meeting with Amy Stanford about?"
Niall looked away from Harry's mouth. "The new initiative against child obesity."
"Oh."
"What is it?"
"I thought maybe- I thought you were maybe talking about that bill? The one you never moved forward on? About parental rights and transgender people?"
His eyes are the size of fucking moon craters and Niall has to look away. At the beginning of Nick's presidency there was a lot of buzz around LGBT+ rights and how they would take shape, what with an openly gay man in office. A lot of those bills have pushed forward, taking hits in Congress, but coming out relatively strong. Harry's bill had been on the back-burner for some time now.
"Harry…"
"You said, six months ago, that we could look at it in six months."
"I know I said that."
"Niall."
"I'm sorry, H. It's not happening this year. There's too much stuff on the agenda already. Maybe next-"
Harry stood up then, sending a throw pillow flying. His face was flushed red, brows crumpled together. "I'm not some dumb member of Congress that you placate in a meeting, Niall! I've been there when you dismiss them, and it's always the same. You always say we'll take a look at it next year and nothing gets done! I'm sick of that."
"I'm sick of it too, Harry, but there isn't a whole lot I can do."
"You're the Deputy Chief of Staff of the United States of America, how can you not-"
"I don't have magic fucking fingers," Niall says, standing and getting right up close to Harry. "I don't get to snap my fingers and have bills be made into law. That's not how it works, Harry, you know that."
"I do know that. But you don't even seem to be trying-"
"I will try!" Niall can feel the red burning down his neck, can feel his palms go sweaty. No one leaves him quite as undone as Harry. "I'll try my damned hardest to pass this bill for you. But there are 15 million children living under the poverty line right now, and North Korea tested another nuclear missile three days ago, and the fucking Senate doesn't want to pass a health care bill that would save a million peoples' lives. But after all that, I'll snap my fingers for you. You okay with that, Harry?"
Harry looks at him for a long second.
"Thanks for the beer," he says, slowly. He turns on his heel and leaves.
North Dakota is exactly as cold as Harry told him and it's pissing Niall off.
He stands in his blue sweater, hands under his armpits, and watches the monitors as President Grimshaw speaks to a crowd of union workers in Bismark. Louis keeps nudging him in the ribs with an elbow.
"Would you stop that?"
"What?" Louis asks, voice gone all innocent. "Hey, did you notice any weird behaviour from Liam on the flight over here?"
Niall squints his eyes really small and looks at Louis for a long time. On the screens, and in the hall in the next room, a loud cheer comes from the crowd. "What are you up to?"
"Me? I'm not up to anything."
"I've known you since undergrad, Lou. You're always up to something."
"Hey guys!" a friendly voice calls and Niall looks over. Liam Payne's squinty smile is directed their way. "What's up?"
If Niall had to choose one word for Liam Payne it would be earnest. He worked at a factory building airplanes with his dad before applying for a job as a runner in the White House. He ended up where he is now, as the President's personal aide.
Up until about three weeks ago (according to Harry, and he's yet to be wrong about work-related gossip) Liam was also dating President Grimshaw's niece, Sophia Smith. The dissolution of their relationship helps to explain why Louis sudden cares whether or not Liam Payne was being weird on Air Force One earlier. Louis always did like them earnest.
"Liam, has anyone ever told you that your head looks like a square watermelon?" Louis asks, voice gone up all innocent at the end.
Niall rolls his eyes and looks back at the monitors. Nick is wrapping up his speech now, his ridiculous hand gestures slowing down and his words going back to that damn New York drawl.
The speech ends and they shuffle out of the room, Louis addressing the press corps before they leave for the cars. Niall stands next to Toby, the Communications Director, and walks with him to where the President's car is waiting. There's a group of people behind a small metal barrier, police and Secret Service barricading them.
"He's going to want to talk to them," Toby says, sounding exhausted. Niall laughs.
Just as predicted, Nick walks straight to the group of people and begins chatting to every single one like they're his best friend. Niall stands close enough to listen in. Nick's got warm eyes, a kind smile, and a knack for getting peoples' names on the first try.
When Harry first met Nick, even before he became President, he became so tongue-tied he could hardly do anything but stare at him. Nick had been wonderful of course, charming and eccentric, telling Harry all about his favourite songs and speeches and books. He told Harry that he was 'a sweet kid' once and Harry spent the whole day humming to himself.
That image, Harry grinning stupidly into a memo on Cambodian forestry, is the last one Niall has before the whole world goes red.
It goes red then yellow then white. Then all Niall can see is black.
Everyone is okay.
Well, not everyone. The driver of the President's car, Artie, was killed immediately. A Secret Service agent was injured in the stomach. The radical homophobe who threw the fucking pipe bomb, or whatever the hell it was, was knocked to the ground approximately six seconds after the smoke cleared. He'll spend the rest of his life in prison.
But they're okay.
Police cruisers escort them to the airport and onto Air Force One. Niall sticks with Louis, and they both keep their arms around each other, as if to convince themselves that they're still there, still alive. He doesn't see Nick until they're taking off - tries to, but keeps getting blocked by the back of the Secret Service's heads.
When he does, Nick looks shaken but strong. He's leaning over his armrest to speak in Matt Fincham's ear, but looks up when he sees Niall.
"Niall," he says, eyes all soft toffee. "You alright? That cut doesn't look so good."
Niall brushes his fingers over the cut in question without thinking. It's not very deep. It happened when the bomb first exploded and he hit the ground. He's fine.
"I'm fine, sir. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."
A smile reaches from one ear to the other. "I'm just fine, thank you for asking. I was talking to Finchy here about putting a movie on in the briefing room. I know it's only a short flight, but I think it might be fun."
Nick Grimshaw is the only person in the world who's allowed to call Matt Fincham "Finchy". It's incredibly endearing.
"That sounds nice, Mr. President."
"Excellent. Tell Louis, would you? We'll try to pick something he'll enjoy."
"Of course, Mr. President."
Niall shuts the door behind him. His right hand shakes as he pulls it back from the doorknob.
A car drops him back at his house. Louis had to stay back to brief the press again, as did most of the staff. The President sent Niall home directly. He practically pushed Niall into a car.
Niall tips the driver before lugging his carry-on out of the trunk. It is practically morning in Washington. The sky is a dark blue, hazy at one corner with light. It's not as pretty as the Boston sky, but it will do.
Niall takes two steps up to his front door and stops.
"Harry?"
Harry is sitting on his steps, head in the palm of his hand. His eyes are trained on his other hand, watching it twist the material of his scarf around and around. At the sound of his name he looks up. His eyes go wide as they meet Niall's.
The next second he's thrown his arms around Niall's neck.
Niall catches him around the waist and steps back onto the pavement so they don't topple over. Harry's hair is in his face, a few strands slipping into his mouth. His arms are so tight around Niall's neck and that, combined with the hair situation, makes Niall splutter for air.
"H," he begins, before he stops. Harry's whole body is shaking.
"Hey," he says, sliding his palm down Harry's back. He runs a thumb over his spine. "It's okay, H. I'm okay."
"I heard about it on the news," Harry says in his ear, choked. "I was so scared. I thought you died."
"I'm right here."
"I thought you were dead."
"I'm okay. Everyone's okay."
Harry pulls back. His eyes are pink around the edges and so big, glassy and pale. The tops of his cheekbones are red. The softness of his mouth is bitten away to high heaven. Niall doesn't think he'll ever let him go.
"Everyone?"
"Well. Artie, the driver, was killed."
Harry's face crumples a bit, at that. He sticks his face back into Niall's neck.
"I thought you had died," he whispers. "I thought you died and the last time we saw each other we got in a fight. I thought about having to put flowers on your - your grave and having to tell your mum and having to - to go to Boston for the funeral-"
"I'm right here, sweetheart."
"I was so scared, Niall."
Washington wakes up around them. There's a mean old pigeon in the tree in front of Niall's house and he chirps around as the sky slowly grows lighter. The streets are empty, echoing.
"Have you slept yet?"
Harry shakes his head. Niall cups his face with his hands, runs his thumbs under Harry's eyes.
"C'mon," he says, voice gone all soft. "Let's get some sleep."
"You have a meeting in four hours with Roger."
"Roger can wait."
They get into Niall's bed, still in their jeans and sweaters. Harry puts his head next to Niall's on the pillow, almost close enough for their eyelashes to brush against one another. He still looks all fragile like egg shells, pale and flushed and shaking.
"I've been sitting on your steps since I heard," Harry says, quiet. "I think I would have sat out there forever, even if you had died."
Niall thinks about the kid who showed up in his office that day, three years ago, with unwashed hair and a wide smile. He thinks about the guy who, three days ago, yelled at Niall in his own living room for not working hard enough to change the world.
He reaches his hand out slowly, lets it fall to Harry's cheek. Harry's eyes dip down to look at Niall's mouth.
When they kiss it's slow, sleepy and sweet. Harry's mouth is velvet. Niall probably smells like recirculated air and Air Force One popcorn. It's a stupidly good kiss.
"Niall."
Harry kisses him again, even slower this time. His hand comes up around Niall's neck and for a second Niall wonders what the fuck he's doing, but then Harry's thumb presses slowly against his throat. Against his pulse point.
That hand tugs him closer. He licks over Harry's top lip, sucks it into his mouth, before leaning back. Harry's eyes are still closed and the translucent skin of his eyelids looks like the kind of tissue paper you get in fancy department stores.
"Niall," Harry whispers, and it's a question this time.
"Tomorrow." He moves his hand from Harry's cheek, presses it to Harry's back instead. "Let's just sleep."
Harry shifts closer. They're both asleep in seconds.
It was never explicitly Niall's dream to become Deputy Chief of Staff. When he was in kindergarten he mostly wanted to become a firefighter because he liked trucks a lot. Then, in the fourth grade, he decided that rocks were cool and being a geologist got written down on About Me sheets.
It was Nick who said, late after a long night of rallying, "What do you think?"
And that's the funny thing about dreams, is sometimes they come true before you know you want them. Niall never thought he would be running around the White House. He never thought he would like a fancy office and a fancy title. He never thought he would have an assistant who made him smoothies and had a smile that could make foreign ambassadors stumble over their words.
He watches Harry as the morning sun paints across his bedroom, sweeping broad strokes against his white walls. He pushes a curl off of Harry's cheek and sighs.
"This complicates things," Niall says.