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“I don’t have time for this,” Geoff, his manager, grumbled into his mobile. Harry glanced up from tuning his guitar as he strolled in, mobile latched onto his ear as always. For the briefest of moments Harry contemplated maybe hiring someone else to help out and realized he might as well try to divide by zero and create a black hole before he tried to get Geoff to get along with other people.
“I’m being honest sir,” His thick Irish accent echoed through the room and Harry strummed at a G chord, “We really do not have any extra tickets, concert sold out three months ago.”
Harry smirked, taking a swig of his beer bottle. The green room was dark and had a permanent smokey tint to it. He mouthed a “who is it?” to his (Fairygodmother) manager.
“Lewis Tomlinson’s manager,” Geoff made a grand gesture with his hands, covering the speaker with his hand, “From god-fucking-damn Three Directions.”
Harry’s smirk grew larger at the “It’s Lou-ee goddammit!” that he heard through Geoff’s mobile. That earned an impressive eye-roll from Geoff.
“Tell him he can come backstage.”
“Absolutely not,” Geoff grumbled, “I’m not dealing with this stuck up teenage arse to be quite frank!”
“You’re just pissed that you’re going to lose the argument,” Harry corrected.
“Can you hold on for one second,” He grumbled into the phone, rather harshly. “What the hell Harold?”
“Let him come, he’s fit.”
“You’re shitting me,” Geoff scratched at his bare head, “I’m about to cave to this asshole because you think he’s fit?”
“Haven’t gotten laid in a while Geoff,” He shrugged casually, that damn smirk permanently tattooed on his face.
“Haven’t gotten laid ever is more like it,” Geoff grumbled back, “You owe me.”
“I already pay you,” He sing-songed back, “So you better do what I say.”
Geoff rolled his eyes with a “Yes sir” and a military salute.
Harry chuckled, “Shut up and lay on the charm, I’ve got plans tonight.”
-
So when Harry said he hadn’t been laid in a while, he meant he hadn’t been laid in, he shuddered, rounding a year now. He plucked at his guitar strings with his calluses, no need for a pick. His fingers slid down the strings, counting the frets as the lights lowered on the stage, cueing him to step onto the theatre stage. His feet counted the steps, he knew exactly where his mic stands were. The human brain at its finest.
As his fingers started to prick at the opening of what he could closest describe as a ballad, his mind went blank, he didn’t have to think about what to play, what to sing. It was just do. It was mechanical, robotic. The foot tap, the leg bop, the finger work, the claps and ruckus before the ‘shhh’.
Inbetween the songs he told the stories, how he met the people these songs were about, when he wrote them, what they meant to him. The only way for his fans to know anything about him. But if they listened to the lyrics, they wouldn’t need any explanation.
Manchester was his favorite, his home, where he got his start in music. He played extra songs for them, songs he hadn’t recorded and hadn’t played in two years. He could recognize faces in the crowd, they were young. Lots of nameless people he’d talked to, but didn’t socialize with. Lots of uni students who’d probably been to a few of the gigs he’d done on campus, around Manchester. Probably a few of the assholes who called him a faggot in sixth form, the ones that claimed to have been his childhood friend on twitter.
Zayn was in the front row. The most metro-sexual looking ‘straight’ person he’d ever meet. Also, his best friend.
He wound down the gig with a cover of ‘Hallelujah’ by Jeff Buckley, a personal favorite of his. Picking up his beanie from his head, he tossed it into the crowd, a headband holding back his damp curls. With a final “thank you” he left the stage, adrenaline causing him to bounce up and down like a toddler. Geoff and the sound guy greeted him with the usual high five and ‘good gig’. He was tossed a bottle of water, and like usual he couldn’t feel the alcoholic buzz from before he hit the stage.
Backstage were the usual people, his crew, Zayn, occasionally an acquaintance of some sort. Zayn glanced up from his conversation with a short guy in maroon pants, tight white t-shirt, and a fabulous pair of cheeks (in the rear if ya feel me). Harry didn’t think twice, but ‘oh yeah’ Louis Tomlinson. Prick.
“Great gig mate,” Zayn pulled him into a ‘bro-hug’ and Harry mumbled and couldn’t wipe the damn grin off his face, “Didn’t tell me we had celebrity company tonight.”
“Didn’t know till an hour ago,” Harry stuck his hand in Louis’ general direction, who was standing awkwardly after being ditched mid-conversation, “I’m Harry.”
“Louis,” Harry was overwhelmed with the American accent that flowed out, “Thanks for letting me come on such short notice. Didn’t really expect to be here tonight.”
“Whatcha’ doing in Man City anyway?” Zayn shouted, popping the top off a beer bottle on the edge of a table, “Beer mate?”
“I don’t drink,” Louis responded, Zayn quirked an eyebrow and shrugged, sparing a glance at Harry, “Got a concert at Manchester Arena tomorrow.”
“Fun,” Zayn attempted lamely, sliding next to Harry and throwing an arm around his shoulders, “How’d ya hear about my mate Harry here? Not exactly the best promoter, eh?”
Harry shot him an amused look, “Internet, saw a youtube cover about a year ago.”
“Really?” Harry’s eyebrow’s raised, interested in the prospect of America.
“Yeah,” Louis laced his fingers together, flipping them upside down and cracking them, “You should think about trying to break the states. They’d eat you up.”
“Not exactly my demographic.”
Louis gave him a once over, “I know.”
“I hate to break up the love fest and all,” Zayn set down a half empty bottle of beer on a table, peering at a text message, “I gotta go.”
Harry nodded, slapping him on the back as he passed, “Don’t tell any women they can come backstage so they’ll sleep with you.”
“Wouldn’t think of it!” Zayn shouted back as he disappeared through the door. Harry picked up his half empty bottle, why put it to waste?
“So, did you like the show?”
“Yeah,” Louis smirked, “Might even buy myself a cd.”
Harry chuckled, “Well I’m impressed.”
“I don’t know anyone who can pull off doing a cover of Pony and Hallelujah in the same show.”
“Wasn’t too much?” Harry raised his eyebrows, hoping he looked flirty but rather feeling like an idiot.
“Eh,” Louis plopped on the couch, “Subtle but effective. You a big American R&B fan then?”
“Are you?” Harry gave him a once over, not sure if his backside was better than his front.
“Possibly.”
Harry sat himself down as well, Geoff strolled in to announce his departure and Harry nodded and it was all nice and dandy and a little awkward but whatever.
“You know I judge people rather harshly based on their music taste,” Harry stated once the commotion died down.
“Of course,” Louis nodded, “Who doesn’t?”
Harry’s forehead scrunched together, “You bring a coat with you?”
“Yeah,” Louis felt his body get yanked up from the couch, “Why?”
“I’ve got a song for you,” Harry slid his own coat on, fingering his keys in his pockets, “And it’s cold outside.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
-
“How long have you known how to drive exactly?” Louis asked, already frightened at being on the other side of the road, much less with Harry’s subpar driving skills.
“About,” Harry paused, “What month is it?”
“October.”
“Eight months,” Harry grinned, pulling a roll through a stop sign.
“Fuck.” Louis shook, turning up the heat on his side of the card, “You drive like a sixteen year old, and that’s coming from someone who drives regularly in California.”
“Scared?”
“To death,” Louis finished, wondering if his life was worth a possible new song.
“Perfect.” Harry rolled into his designated parking spot at his flat, leading the way through the brick building to the second floor, apartment number 23.
When he slid the door open he threw his jacket over the handle of the coat closet, leaving his shoes out. Louis followed suit, “You want some tea?”
“Tea?” Louis responded warily.
“What,” Harry poked his head from the kitchen, “You don’t drink tea?”
“Not in America.”
“I’ll make you some anyway,” He tended to starting the kettle while Louis situated himself on the counter.
“‘kay,” Louis rubbed at his arms, “It’s cold outside.”
“Todo, we’re not in L.A. anymore” Harry commented, searching for some milk and pulling out his sugar. He sat some homemade biscuits on the counter. Louis jumped right in.
“Shut up,” Louis rolled his eyes. His eyes swept around the kitchen, glancing at anything and everything, “Nice apartment.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak American very well,” Harry chuckled in a deeper tone than he’d thought possible, “Was that supposed to be sarcastic?”
“No,” Louis corrected fervently, “Looks more like home than my place probably ever will.”
“What’s your place like?”
“You’ll judge me if I tell you.”
“I promise to keep any and all sarcastic comments within my brain.”
“Scouts honor?” Louis held up his three middle fingers.
Harry wore a confused expression and Louis laughed, “Guess not then.”
“I’ve no clue what that means mate.” Harry turned his eyes toward the kettle for a second.
“Um, it’s very L.A.,” Louis explained, gesturing with his hands, “Like big and modern and looks like it should be in a magazine.”
“That’s what I pictured,” Harry confirmed, “Is it at least on a beach?”
“It’s got a pool?” Louis questioned, as if that would make up for the lack of sand, “I don’t really like the beach anyway.”
Harry’s eyes widened, “How could you not like the beach?”
“Too many people, too hot, sand in places that sand shouldn’t be in,” Louis ticked off his fingers like a check list.
“So you don’t surf or anything?” To be honest, the whole conversation disappointed Harry just a little bit because, hello, California and surfing went together like paper and pen.
“I’m not actually from California, you know that right?”
“Yeah but,” Harry shrugged, “I think it’d be cool.”
Louis laughed, “Have you ever been to L.A. Harry?”
“No.”
“Well if you ever go, dial me up, I’ll take you surfing.” Louis watched as Harry fixed their tea, pouring them into quirky mugs that could only have been sent by fans.
“I might just hold you to that.” Harry nodded, setting aside his own mug, only adding a dash of milk. He fixed Louis’ so it was probably more milk than tea, but whatever, “This is how I drank mine when I was young, so it should be fine.”
“Thanks,” Louis raised his to his lips, taking a long sip, more for the heat than the taste but deciding it wasn’t so bad once you got used to it, “Not bad, but I’m more of a coffee person.”
Louis hadn’t really noticed before, but when Harry wrapped his lips around the edge of his mug, he realized he might not mind having his lips wrapped around other things. After a long lock of their eyes, Harry broke the gaze and wiped his hands on his pants, “Um, so about that song, you can come with me, I don’t exactly know where it is.”
Louis cleared his throat, “Oh, uh, yeah the song.”
“It’s called Moments,” Harry smiled softly, “I think you’ll like it.”
Louis trailed behind Harry, there were two doors leading out of the living room, Harry opened one to reveal a navy bedroom. He mentioned something about being sorry about the mess and Louis shrugged, not really minding. It was pretty eclectic, pictures and framed sheet music hung at different heights on different walls, the bed was not made and sheets of paper were sticking out from all over, under the bed, on the bedside table, littered across the floor.
“So you write a lot then?” Louis trailed his fingers down the edge of a frame, Harry opened the doors to his closet, pulling out a box from the ground.
“Everyday,” He glanced up, looking at the frame Louis was caressing, “That’s the original version of the first single off the album.”
Louis nodded, “I know.” He noticed that the lyrics were almost completely different from the version he knew, “I don’t really get to see much of the writing process, but this is pretty cool to see. How many times do you rewrite a song?”
“Depends,” Harry’s fingers trailed through books, they had large dates on the front. They were like diaries, with a date for each song, “That one I rewrote everything about ten times except for the chorus. Sometimes I don’t change a thing.”
Louis nodded, shifting his attention to where Harry sat on the floor in concentration. His back was arched over in such a slouch that could only be produced with much repetition.
“Do you wanna help me find this?” Harry pulled out three books, with dates ranging from 2009 and 2010. “I’m not really sure of the date that I wrote it. There’s two versions.”
“Yeah,” Louis took a seat in front of the closet, his arm brushing against Harry’s as he flipped page by page of songs. One glance in his closet and Louis was surprised at the lack of clothing and Harry’s sense of grandpa fashion and skinny jeans.
Harry smiled at some of the songs, the ones that were too deep and complex to record and sell. They told too much. “I think I found it.”
Harry pulled out four sheets of music, two per song. One was an acoustic version, the other for a more poppy version, radio friendly. He stood up to grab a guitar, selecting the one he used for writing songs.
Sitting down cross legged on the bed, he strummed lightly, playing through the notes, singing lightly. Louis sat on the ground, soaking it in, trying to remember parts of the song. When Harry finished Louis asked to look at the sheet music.
“Well I definitely think Liam would be great for the the first verse,” He tucked his lip under his teeth, “Niall and I could split the second, not sure about the bridge but-”
“But you like the song?” Harry interrupted, “I don’t really care what you do with it, who sings what, but I do not really do this. Let other people take my music.”
“No, it’s great,” Louis mused, “I mean, it’s so much more in depth than we’ve got planned for our next album, I think it’d be really great to add to the mix.”
Harry nodded, “Good, I mean, I really liked this song. Didn’t make the cut for the album but I don’t want it to go to waste.”
Louis smiled, “It won’t. I promise.”
“Scout swear?” Harry chuckled, setting his guitar to the side.
Louis laughed even harder, “Scout’s honor, but close enough.”
Harry smiled, his dimples showing, and Louis smiled even more. When it died down, Louis asked, “How many guitars do you have?”
“Five,” Harry traced his fingers down the curve of the guitar he’d been playing, “Only thing I willingly spend money on.”
“Yeah?” Louis’ hands traced the carpet, drawing shapes, “How long have you been playing?”
“Since I was nine,” His smile didn’t necessarily decrease, more changing in shape, “Best thing that ever happened to me. You play anything?”
“Piano, I had to learn when I started taking voice lessons.”
Harry abruptly stood from his spot, sliding his guitar back against a wall. Louis stood as well, mostly feeling awkward on the ground. He helped Harry slide his music books back, pushing them back into the closet. When Harry stood again, he started to feel very aware of the fact that Harry towered over him. When he grasped Harry’s hand to help himself up, he was very aware of how large his hands were. When his feet were on the ground he was very aware of how close they were.
And when Harry’s lips were on his own, he was very aware of how his tongue was lapping at Harry’s lips for entrance.
When granted, Louis felt Harry’s arms curl around his neck, his own sliding around Harry’s waist. His fingers slid under the shirt, this thumb gently rubbing at the strip of bare skin above Harry’s Calvin Klein’s. He could feel Harry stumbling toward the bed, wincing after he stepped on Louis’ feet. Gently, his back hit the bed and Harry leant over the straddle of his legs, lips reattaching at his neck.
Louis probably let out a moan a bit too early, but whatever. His fingers again trailed under Harry’s shirt, in a more tugging manner this time, as in get this shirt the fuck off your body now. He had a bit of a difficult time, unattaching Harry from his neck, but when he did he let out a mewl in appreciation of Harry’s chest. His fingers dipped down the ridges of his torso, a never ending torso at that. He shifted his hips, urging Harry to roll over. Harry thumbed at the buttons of his own shirt, his long arms sliding the material down his arms with his large hands trailing from his shoulder, never leaving his arms.
When he bent down to reattach his lips, his thumbs flicked over Harry’s nipples and he chuckled a laugh into Harry’s mouth. His lips brushed against Harry’s when he whispered a soft, “Four?”
Harry strained his neck up, maybe a “yeah” escaping his mouth before they were reconnected. Louis’ fringe brushed up against Harry’s forehead, his own hair being pushed back. Louis pawed at the button of Harry’s jeans, popping it open as Harry pushed his bum off the bed for Louis to slide them, along with his Calvin’s, down his thighs. Harry kicked them the rest of the way off as Louis shucked off his own.
Harry watched as Louis spit in his hand, reaching down to slowly pump up his shaft. His own growing erection pressing into Harry’s thigh. Harry’s hand gravitated towards the bed side table, sliding open a drawer and fumbling for the condom and lube. Louis smirked when Harry handed them to him, silently praising Harry’s choice in position.
He slicked his fingers, prepping Harry for the future.
-
Harry laid completely and utterly exhausted when Louis rolled off of him. His arms stretched up, elongating his body and stretching out his terrible back. Louis’ head rolled to the side, a large grin gracing his face as he swept his fringe back to its proper place. Harry grinned back, attempting to muster the strength to leave and clean himself up.
Only when Louis stood to dispose of his condom did he suddenly gain energy. His hands flicked the shower on, pulling out two towels and hanging them over the curtain rod. Louis stepped in first, testing the temperature and letting the white substance flow off his stomach. Harry joined quickly, his hands resting on Louis’ hips as he scrubbed himself down with soap. Harry followed when Louis passed him the bar, switching positions to be closer to the stream of water. Louis was delighted at the sight of his back dimples. Harry grabbed his face wash from the side of the tub, giving a rub over his face as well.
Louis rubbed down his own arms after Harry shut the water off, wrapping the towel around his waist. When Harry was done drying, he tossed the towel toward a hamper, missing and leaving it on the ground. Harry slid back into the bed, buck naked, and pulled the comforter up his body, snuggling in. Louis ventured toward his clothes, dropping his towel and pulling his black briefs up his legs.
“You know you can stay,” Harry had propped his head on his hand, laying on his right side and enjoying the rather pleasant view of Louis’ back side.
Louis bit at his lip, Harry spoke again, eyebrows raised, “You really gonna call the car service at 2:30?”
Louis sighed, “Guess not.”
His felt the cool material slide against his legs as he slid back in the bed, his legs brushing against Harry’s. He slid probably a bit too close to Harry but whatever. Louis’ head tilted to the left, his nose brushing against Harry’s shoulder unintentionally. After a few minutes of heavy breathing, he tilted his head on his hand, planting his elbow above Harry’s shoulder. He let his hand trace over the decent size tattoo on the opposite side of Harry’s chest, “You know, I don’t usually like tattoos.”
Harry’s hand grabbed his, flattening his palm over his left peck, “but.”
“But,” Louis bit his own lip with his teeth, “They look really good on you.”
Harry watched as he prodded over his torso, fingers sliding over the words and shapes and symbols, “How many do you have?”
Harry’s head lolled, looking into Louis’ eyes after they pulled away from the tattoos, “More than twenty. Lost track.”
“Pretty impressive,” Louis’ finger trailed down from the writing on his bicep to his wrist, little shapes littered all around, “What do they mean?”
Louis’ body moved as Harry chuckled, “We just met tonight, you can pick one.”
Harry watched as Louis studied intently, first focusing on the underside of his arm, before his wrist. His thumb rubbed over the ‘i can’t change’ a few times, “This one.”
Harry sighed, “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” Louis quipped.
Harry’s eyes didn’t meet his anymore, “Well, it was one of the first tattoos I got. Um,” He stuttered, Louis gripped at his arm.
“If it’s a bad story you don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I,” Harry muttered, stumbling over his own tongue, “It’s fine. So basically, when I was like sixteen,” He talked like he didn’t remember all the details, tried to make it seem insignificant, “And, well, my parents got divorced when I was six, and I never really saw my dad after that. But anyway, so I lived with my Mum and my sister was at Uni and I don’t really know, I just kind of decided to tell mum that I was, well, gay.”
His body relaxed, sinking into his pillow and closing his eyes.
“And we were a really Catholic family and it probably was pretty stupid of me to do, and I knew it but, I don’t know, I guess I was just really sure that I was gay or whatever. Basically mum told me that I had to leave or like change my sexuality.” Harry noticed that Louis wasn’t exactly trying to make eye contact either.
“So you left?” His fingers traced down the crevice of Harry’s chest.
“Yeah, I uh, had a job already so I crashed at Zayn’s for a few nights, asked my boss if I could work full time, and, well, I went to a private school so I just kind of stopped going. I don’t really spend money so I got myself this apartment and here we are now.”
“I’m-”
“Do not say you’re sorry, cause you aren’t the one responsible,” Harry clenched his hand in his hair, tugging it back, “I hate when people do that.”
“Can I just say something?” Louis continued anyway, not really waiting for a response and not receiving one, “I don’t think coming out is stupid, ever. And, hey, look where you are now.”
“Sleeping with an American popstar I just met tonight? Sure mum would be real proud of that.”
“Really though Harry, I wish I was talented enough to do what you do, write your own album, produce it, the whole thing.”
Harry sighed, “Well I don’t exactly have a plan b.”
“Don’t worry about that unless you have to,” Leaning down he pressed a kiss to his chin, “Come on the single’s in the top five out here, album’s rising, you’ve sold out a tour, life is good!”
“I know, it’s just,” He paused, “I don’t even know, crazy.”
-
The next morning when Harry awoke, Louis was gone, long gone. There was a note on his kitchen counter, scribbles that Harry could barely make out.
Had to go do interviews and soundcheck, if you’re ever in L.A. or wanna go to a 3D concert give me a call :D
818-123-4567
-Louis xxx
Harry sighed, dropping the note on the bench and swiping a banana. It was nearly eleven and he had to leave by 16:00 for his gig in Plymouth the next day. After making some tea he retreated to his bedroom, mainly wanting to rest but finding that nearly nine hours of sleep was plenty and that stalking his one night stand on twitter seemed much more interesting.
What he found was that he had gained a couple thousand followers overnight, pushing him extremely close to the one million mark. When he reached Louis’ page, over five million followers by the way, the top tweet read:
Had a good night at @HarryStyles concert last night, ya’ll should check him out!
He rolled his eyes, flipping through his phone to the new contacts, clicking on Louis name, and typing out a few messages, deleting them, rewriting them, and finally deciding on:
I’m feeling pretty sore for last night just being “good”
Less than a minute later he received a response
I said the concert was good, later in the night however… ;D
Louis xxx
Smiley face obsession huh? btw, you just gained a new follower on twitter
And are we signing our texts?
Harry xxx
There was a line filled with emojis galore
Just a tad xxx
-
The texts died down within a few hours, both moving onto their respective tours and time zones. Harry had been busy, finishing off the second leg of his tour, driving every night and performing. His single about a drug addicted prostitute hit number one in the radio charts and broke the top five UK iTunes chart.
He’d been doing more radio promotions than he’d anticipated, playing songs off his album and recording exclusive covers, never attending interviews. He even got invited to a charity event in London, which he’d attended and actually answered a few questions on the red carpet.
“First of all, can I say you look absolutely amazing tonight. Can you even believe the success of the single and the album?”
“It’s pretty crazy, the album has been out for about six months now and all of a sudden it’s been blowing up, it’s pretty exciting. I did everything myself so it’s pretty gratifying.”
“I bet, do you have any plans for the next single?”
“Well I know what song I want it to be, it’s just a matter of getting everything sorted and finding a producer for a music video and what not.”
“Well that’s pretty exciting, now we have to ask, how long does it take to style your hair?”
He laughed at that one, “I literally get out of the shower and do a little shake, that’s it.”
“Okay one more, all the ladies are wondering, do you have a girlfriend?”
“Um, I’m single at the moment. Thank you.”
Geoff had swept him off and through the entrance of the building, giving him a slap on the back and helping him find where they were supposed to go. His eyes grew sore from the lights, never having dealt with the cameras before.
The growing demand had spread to the states, he was getting followers exponentially and requests for his single to be played on the radio were being made more and more.
So of course Geoff set up two concerts for him in New York and two in LA, just to test the waters out. Before he made an official announcement on his twitter, he decided to send a text.
Officially doing a concert in LA Dec. 12 and 13, you in?
Almost as quick as that first day
Already on the calendar, Liam and Niall want in too
xxx
Harry smirked
Beach first friends later
-
The moment Harry arrived in LA he shucked off his blazer and tossed it in his bag. Geoff strolled beside him and the heat seeped through his skin the second he stepped off the plane. They hustled through the airport, wanting to shower desperately after such a long plane ride.
Harry clambered into the backseat of their chauffeured vehicle, immediately feeling nauseous and almost having a panic attack as the driver took a right turn on a red light. His worries were soon vanished as he watched the rolling scenery of palm trees and sunshine. Light beat through the window and he could almost feel himself getting a sunburn. It felt good.
His face was practically plastered to the window the whole ride to the hotel, passing down streets and looking at the architecture that was so so different than England and feeling like he was in a movie when he drove past the Hollywood sign. Geoff turned around and laughed at him, “Welcome to America kid.”
He felt like he couldn’t jump out of the car fast enough, heat soaked through his skin. It was a dry heat, comfortable. The people around him appeared to be wearing entirely too much clothes.
His hotel was sprawling, a large lobby with restaurants and an indoor pool and a bar. The room had a nice view of the freaking ocean and the pool below. He could deal with this for a week.
Not too bad for his first time in America.
After switching on his phone, mindlessly scrolling through the useless missed text messages he’d received, he snapped a picture of the view outside of his hotel room, uploading it on twitter with the caption ‘Finally here LA!”
In the middle of sliding his swim trunks up his legs he heard his phone buzz, opening it he read,
Pool’s ready when you are
He smiled, quickly typing a reply
You clearly said you were going to take me to the beach
Damn Louis was a speedy replier,
Tomorrow? Pool today?
Harry wasn’t necessarily against spending two days in the sun, sending a
Sure
Within an hour, would have been less had the traffic in Los Angeles not been completely and utterly insane, Louis had arrived at the hotel, Harry waiting in navy shorts (no, changing again does certainly not make him a girl) and a short sleeve shirt of the same color. Louis greeted him in the lobby, wrapping his arms around his torso and giving him a once over, “Nice shorts.”
“What?” Harry glanced down at his cuffed navy shorts.
“Little short, eh?”
“No they’re not,” He argued, certainly not concerned with the hemline of his shorts whatsoever, Louis was adorned in swim trunks and a white t-shirt, pool ready, “I’m tall anyway.”
“No shit,” Louis made his way toward the doors of the lobby, Harry trailing behind and noticing all the glances from around the room. A bellhop opened the door for them, giving a pleasant, “Have a wonderful day Mr. Tomlinson.”
Louis smiled while twirling his keychain around his finger, “You too.”
Harry stepped up by Louis’ side, “And to think, I’m the one staying here.”
“Don’t let it get to your head Mr. Famous,” Which earned him an elbow in the gut.
Harry fiercely whispered an “I’m not famous.”
“I beg to differ,” Harry spotted Louis’ Beemer when he flicked the unlock button on his keys, awkwardly walking to enter on the wrong side of the car.
“Nice try,” Louis hand covered the door handle, “But you are not driving.”
Harry blushed, “Right, wrong side of the car.”
“Yeah,” Louis nodded, “Wrong side.”
Harry traced his fingers along the side of the door as the car purred to life, moonroof open. He straightened out his hair, biting at his bottom lip. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Louis chance a glance at him. “So, uh, what’ve you been doing?”
Louis responded with a pathetic chuckle, “Finished tour, started recording for the next album.”
“Yeah?” Harry tried to muster up enthusiasm, another Three Directions album, and he tried to hush the voice in his head that was thinking that’s just what the world needs, “How’s that been going?”
“Good,” Louis smiled, easing on the break in the bumper to bumper traffic, “Probably the wrong time of the day to be travelling. What about you, new album in the works?”
“No,” Harry chuckled, “The last album took me three years to write, I need a little more time.”
“Gonna release in the states at least?” Louis shot him a concerned glance, “I really think it’d be a good idea.”
“Geoff and I have been thinking about it,” He fingered the bottom of his shirt, sighing at the wrinkles that had formed in his suitcase, “I don’t know, it’s a big commitment. When I released in the U.K. it was more just for myself, I had no clue it was going to gain hype and that I was going to have my own tour, even if it was just to theatres. Out here it’d be more,” He paused, not knowing the right word to use, “Formal? I would have to promote it, a lot, dedicate a lot of time out here.”
Louis nodded, “I think it’d be worth it, in the end.”
“Yeah, it’s just,” He paused again, “Not my sorta thing.”
“But hey!” Louis yelled, startling Harry a bit, “Congrats on the Brit nomination!”
Harry blushed, he had certainly not been expecting that nomination, “Thanks.”
“You’re going right?”
A long smile tugged on his lips, “Of course. You going too? Sweep the international and band awards?”
“Dunno,” He shrugged, “We’re off for a while in February, I know Li and Niall aren’t going to go.”
“Go by yourself,” He reached over to shove Louis’ shoulder, “Watch me perform.”
“No shit!” He pounded a hand on the wheel, “They asked you to perform?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “Still can’t believe it.”
“That’s so exciting Harry,” He glanced over again, “Really, I feel like you’ve come a long way the past couple of months.”
“Me too, believe me, me too.”
-
Harry’s desperately tried not to let his mouth gape open when walking into Louis’ house but the second that Louis pulled in and had to press in a code to access his driveway, he figured it just wasn’t going to happen.
It seemed like he had conveniently forgotten that Louis had been living the life of a superstar for three years now. The ceilings were high, very high. The house was mostly concrete, very modern, floors, walls, ceilings, the whole shebang. The kitchen was directly in front of them, pans hung from the ceiling and there was a large island with stainless steel ovens and a wine cooler. The stove seamlessly ran with the line of the counter, a refrigerator right behind him.
“Nice kitchen,” Harry gulped, his cooking instinct kicking in as Louis threw open the refrigerator.
“You want something to drink?” He grabbed his own can of coke, offering it to Harry.
“Thanks,” He accepted, noting that the house wasn’t exactly large so much as it just seemedcold. There were a few skateboards lined up against a wall, “You skateboard?”
“Yeah,” Louis popped one down, stepping on it, “Great house to skate in.”
Harry rolled his eyes and smirked, “Looks like it.”
“So, bathroom’s over there if you want to change,” He pointed down the hall, “First door on the left. Pool’s outside there obviously.” There was a series of glass doors that he was pulling open, pushing them so that they collapsed into the adjacent wall and the side of what was the kitchen was now completely open.
“Okay,” Harry started to trace backwards, turning on his heel to change as Louis stripped his top off. He didn’t want to stare.
When he was changed, he darted out, jumping into the pool and creating a splash without second thought. When he emerged, fanning his arms out to keep him afloat, he sent a smirk towards Louis, who sat on a cushioned chair underneath a cabana. He popped his sunglasses up in a very ‘I’m famous and I know it’ way, amused.
Seconds later, as Harry was flipping his wet hair out of his face, Louis began to laugh and Harry sent him a defensive, “What?” while crossing his arms over his chest, standing waist deep in the shallow end.
“Nothing,” He rose, strutting down the diving board, diving in and arising a mere foot in front of Harry. His hands reached out, pushing Harry’s long hair back, “You look like baby Tarzan.”
Harry smirked in response, using his leverage of height to wrap his arm around Louis’ neck and dunk him underwater, “I do not.”
Louis squirted out water from his mouth like he was a water fountain in Harry’s face, “You do too.”
Harry shook his head incredulously, chlorinated water dripping off his straight locks. Daringly, he kept his arms positioned around Louis’ neck, pulling him closer to his own face. Louis took the initiative, pressing his lips against Harry’s much larger pair. He tugged at Harry’s bottom lip, sucking it between his own and releasing, while wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist.
Utilizing the buoyancy of the water, he managed to push himself up, letting go of Harry’s lips and reattaching to his neck, kissing down the column of his throat, sucking lightly at Harry’s adams apple, not hard enough to leave a mark.
Carefully, he disentangled himself, and ducked underwater, swimming away once more. Harry walked to the edge of the pool, pushing himself out and leaning back on his palms, face towards the sun and feet dangling in the water.
It wasn’t long before Louis was back at his side, er rather knees. He nudged open Harry’s legs, resting his arms and angling his head upwards, puckering his lips slightly. Harry smiled, caving obviously and leaning down an extremely awkward angle to return the kiss. Louis licked at his bottom lip again, gaining access quite easily. When he let go, he tilted his head back, feeling Louis’ fingers tracing the edge of his swim trunks. His fingers dipped below the waist band, demanding a “Lift up.”
Harry used his hands to lift his bum off the concrete edge of the pool, wincing slightly as the tender skin reconnected with the scratchy material. It didn’t take long to forget, his body immediately reacting to the touches of Louis’ hand on his length. His hand moved up and down and Harry’s fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his eyes squinting in the bright sun.
The palming was slowly dying down and Harry felt Louis hands retreat, his mouth pressing to the inside of his thigh. A groan escaped his lips as Louis sucked hard, licking over the mark he intended to leave. He left a small trail of feather light kisses up his thigh, before licking a strip up the side of his dick. His mouth surrounded it and Harry groaned again. Louis dug his elbows down into the concrete, using Harry’s thighs for leverage. His mouth surrounded the tip, a lick to the very tip, before widening his mouth and sliding down farther. He hollowed his cheeks, rising up before forcing back down in a bobbing action.
It took incredible mental strength for Harry to muster the energy to pry his fingers from the edge of the pool to transfer them to Louis’ short hair. He tried, desperately might he add, not to push or force Louis down, but his impending orgasm didn’t really help. Neither did Louis’ change of pace, his head moving quicker. Harry mustered an, “Oh my God Louis.”
And he could feel that damn bastard smirking, as much as he possibly could, around his cock. Another, “Fuck,” trailed out, encouraging Louis and it wasn’t much longer before Harry’s fingers twisted and curled and Louis was sucking desperately, his mouth filling with the expected white substance. As he slid his mouth away, he made sure to look up at Harry as he swallowed, licking his lips as he could literally see Harry shiver. His fingers traced at the area where Harry’s hips meet his legs, waiting for his breath to even out. Harry’s fingers slowly uncurled as Louis pressed more kisses where his fingers had just been, and Harry began to rub his hands down Louis’ shoulders and Louis could feel large thumbs pressing at his collarbone.
Louis could feel Harry’s hips pushing at his chest, he slid further into the pool as Harry lowered himself in and winced, his arms wrapping back around Louis’ neck. His mouth pressed down again and Louis could feel Harry resting his dead weight on his shoulders. Slowly, Harry managed to maneuver the two so that Louis’ back was pressed against the edge of the pool. A squawk exited his lips as Harry hooked his own thumbs underneath his waistband, sliding them down to his knees before lifting him out of the pool and setting him on the edge, leaning back to slide them the rest of the way down.
Harry’s hands were on his own cock and Louis had gripped at his hair before he mustered a, “What are you doing?”
Harry chuckled, as if it were the funniest thing he’d heard all day, “Returning the favor obviously.”
-
Harry and Louis were on opposite sides of the couch, feet resting in a tangle in the center, sharing a pizza when a door slam and booming voice echoed through Louis’ house at nine that night. “Tommo whatcha doin’?”
A blond and brunette were quick to enter the open living room, leaving Harry little time to compose himself, trying to sit up straight and making sure his dastardly locks were tucked up under his pink beanie. Louis didn’t even bother, didn’t even move and laughed as he scampered, tugging at his blue shirt and realizing, yeah, he was still in Louis’ joggers.
Niall was oblivious to anything out of the ordinary, mainly the british man sitting on the couch, and more offended at the lack of pizza, “You didn’t save me any?”
Louis stood, scooping the empty box from the coffee table and retreating to throw it away in the kitchen, patting Niall on the back on the way out, “Didn’t know you were coming buddy, not my fault.”
Louis saw Liam’s cocked eyebrow on his way out of the kitchen, “Guys, that’s Harry. Harry, Liam and Niall.”
Harry attempted a pathetic wave and a lowly, “Hi.” He could hear Louis and Liam talking quietly when Liam followed Louis into the kitchen. Niall acknowledged him, sending back a similar greeting.
“Ya ready for the show?” Niall spoke up about half a minute later, obliviously breaking the awkward silence, “Lou’s been raving about your music for, like, ever.”
“Uh, yeah,” He drawled, tucking his feet up under himself, “You’re, uh, are you coming?”
“Hell yeah!” Niall exclaimed, as if there hadn’t been a choice in the matter, “Tommo, grab me a coke!”
Harry took a swig of his water as Louis and Liam re-entered, tossing a coke to Niall and setting down two plates of nachos. Niall took one for himself, the three of them nibbled on the rest. Harry reached his hand out for one, Louis slapped his hand away from the plate with a devilish smile on his face, “You just ate!”
Harry jumped back, sinking into the couch as Louis laughed, grasping his wrist and rubbing his thumb over the joint, “I’m kidding Harry.”
Harry nodded, remaining sunk in the couch, not returning for anymore. Louis picked up a nacho, dunked it in salsa, and held it out for Harry, “Here, I really was kidding Harry.”
He smiled gently, accepting the peace offering. Louis slid closer on the couch, knowing Liam was going to retreat there after turning the music off and selecting a movie for them to watch. Louis cupped his hand up to Harry’s ear, whispering a quick apology and swearing he didn’t know they were going to come over.
Harry cupped his own hand by Louis’ ear, making sure to whisper as quietly as he could, “At least they didn’t show up an hour ago.”
Louis laughed and slapped a hand over his mouth, sliding closer to Harry and nudging him in the stomach, with a hushed, “That was dirty.”
Niall’s mouth hung open, nacho prepped to enter his mouth, “Tha nacho’s dirty?”
“The nacho’s fine Nialler,” Louis nodded, “Eat up.”
Harry let his back sink in the couch as Liam dimmed the lights, eyelids fluttering shut as the movie started.
-
Harry awoke to the shuffling of light cleaning, Louis replacing the DVD in its case, cleaning plates and glasses, tossing a blanket over Harry’s body. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning and glancing around. Quietly, he dropped his blanket and padded to the kitchen. Louis was stood washing some plates in the sink, gently he dropped his hands on Louis’ waist, whispering, “Want some help?”
He could feel Louis jump in surprise, dropping the plate in the sink and disturbing the silence. His hand fluttered over his chest.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, lips fluttering ever so slightly against his ear. His hands remained on Louis’ waist, caressing the love handles that puffed over the edge of his shorts. With a cheeky smile, he pressed a kiss against Louis’ neck, “Not really though.”
Louis relaxed, purposefully pressing his body back into Harry’s, continuing with his final two dirty plates, scraping off cheese. Harry continued with his ministrations, feeling Louis up and occasionally slipping down to pinch at his rear. He was starting to feel a little shaky when he set the last plate in the washer. Harry helped pivot him around, so that they were once again facing each other. Louis reached up on his tiptoes, hands pressing at the back of Harry’s neck as their lips met in a tangle. Harry’s arms tightened around his waist, lifting him off the ground and depositing him on top of the kitchen counter, leaving them at a more equal height advantage.
“Jesus,” Louis mumbled as Harry’s hands trailed up his shirt, pressing cold against his chest, “Have you gotten taller?”
Harry bit his lip while nodding, lifting Louis’ top off his body and dropping it on the hard floors. Louis tugged him closer by the neck, sliding his hands down Harry’s arms and hooking his right leg around Harry’s left. He tugged at the bottom of Harry’s shirt too, lifting it over his long arms, pushing Harry away to slide off the counter before grabbing his hand and retreating down the hallway.
-
“Rise and shine pumpkin,” Louis startled at a disturbingly loud tone, yanking the covers off of Harry’s very naked body very early in the morning. He didn’t speak, simply curled his body up in a fetal position with a whine.
Louis climbed over Harry’s body, standing spread eagle over Harry’s form, shifting his weight back and forth so that Harry’s body rocked from side to side, “Time to get up babe.” His smile grew when Harry pried one eye open, groaning again and refusing to move. Louis nudged his body with his feet.
“What time is it,” caved Harry, noting that the sun was much too low and it was not nearly bright enough to be up.
Louis watched in victory as his body uncurled, sprawling open to stretch and he noted how Harry lacked room to reach his arms all the way up, “Surfing time. That’s what time it is.”
Harry’s hands clasped at Louis’ heels, still planted firmly on either side of his body, rubbing up and down his calfs. “Much too early.”
Louis shook his head, “Never too early to surf.”
Harry let his hands trail up behind Louis knees, ever so quickly grabbing them, Louis gasping as his body was betrayed by gravity. Harry groaned, rethinking his idea as Louis collapsed like a dead weight on top of his abdomen. Louis giggled, freaking giggled, and Harry yelped out, slamming his hand over his mouth at his overly loud laugh. Louis’ hand had settled in the middle of his chest, Harry’s own mindlessly clutching on top of it. Louis slid off Harry’s body, holding his hand out, “I think it’s time to leave.”
-
After a very cold surf (It was December after all) and a very hot (in more ways than one) shower in Louis’ wall-less waterfall shower, Harry had escaped, knowing he had business to attend to. Louis had waited with him for the car, nipping at each others lips and necks, even exchanging a final kiss when the doorbell rang.
Harry had had to sit through meetings, with record labels, other artists, etc. To be honest, over the two days he’d received some very, very, good offers and plans for the states, but he just wasn’t willing to commit. Wasn’t willing to commit to letting others in on the producing of a new album, wasn’t willing to commit to releasing a new album within the next year, wasn’t willing to let others write songs for him. It just wasn’t how he worked.
Geoff had agreed, maybe they weren’t right for them, but that if they seriously wanted to pursue this, America, in the future that they needed help, Geoff simply didn’t have the resources or the ability to manage something like that.
They did, however, receive a very good offer to open for a very popular artist. An artist who wrote their own music, had a large upcoming tour, and a fanbase that wasn’t too different from his own. It was a ‘too good to be true’ offer, five months in the states, dates sets, venues booked, tickets to go on sale in less than a month. No work, just a signature and they were sold.
So he thought about it, for a day. Conferred with Geoff, with Zayn, and not really anyone else ‘cause he didn’t know who to trust. He signed the line and dated his signature.
He continued with his gigs, an overwhelmingly large venue for him in L.A., no clue as to the actual demand in there.
Louis stopped by both nights, the first by himself, the second with Niall and Liam. He was friendly with Geoff, bobbing his head from backstage. The first night he’d followed Harry’s van back to the hotel, the second the group had decided on grabbing some food after the concert. They’d separated with a hug.
Before Louis knew it, Harry was gone, in New York for a few nights and his birthday arrived, Christmas flying by. On New Year’s Eve he flew out to Vegas to celebrate his 21st with his childhood friends, the same day Harry’s tour was announced.
-
As Louis stood at the front desk of a hotel, trying to understand what was coming out of this man’s mouth, he tried to remember how he could have agreed to this, “Listen, I don’t care how much the room is, I just really need somewhere to sleep.”
“I’m sorry sir,” His accent was so thick, much thicker than Harry’s, and he talked at lightning speed, “I simply do not have any rooms left.”
“But it’s in there, right?” He pointed towards the computer, “This reservation was made over a month ago.”
“I understand sir,” He repeated, rolling his eyes, “We’re overbooked, I. Don’t. Have. Any. Rooms.”
“Fine,” Louis rolled his eyes, two could play this game, “Is there somewhere you can recommend me to stay at least?”
“You’ll have to talk to our Concierge,” He pointed across the room, where a small line had formed behind a small desk.
Louis sighed, tugging at his suitcase and bypassing the concierge, claiming seat on a gold and peach couch that was supposed to look regal but in reality was just uncomfortable. His hand slid into his pocket to pull out his phone, scrolling through the contacts to ring his manager, and when he didn’t answer he’d had enough, pulling up Harry’s number.
A raspy “Hello?” rang in his ear, shuffling in the background, evident that the phone was on speaker.
“Harry,” He stated, running a hand through his greasy hair, “Please tell me you’re in London?”
“Louis!” Harry’s voice jumped a little, doing something to the phone so that Louis could hear much better, “Sorry, I literally just got out of the shower, what’s up?”
Louis sighed deeply, “I’m at some hotel in London, they double booked my room, do you think I could pop over wherever you are so I can charge my phone and find somewhere to stay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry nodded, cradling the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, as he jumped while trying to pull his trousers up his long legs, “Do you need a ride? I can come get you.”
“No, I’m,” Louis cursed as the phone beeped, signalling that the little battery he’d had was about to die, “I can get a ride, where are you staying?”
“Um, the Le Meridien, um it’s on Piccadilly,” Harry had to double check the packet they’d given him for his room number, “Room 214.”
“Thanks, really, I gotta go, but thanks,” His phone had died before he was able to finish his sentence and he yanked his suitcase behind him, asking the bellhop to hail him a taxi because he didn’t know the number to call for a car and within seconds there’d been a couple that arrived from Heathrow, and he slid into their cab.
He was more than thankful upon stumbling across a couple quid in his bag, prepacked by someone else. He dropped more than enough in the cranky driver’s hand, muttering a “Have asplendid day,” somehow resisting the urge to tack on an ‘asshole’ at the end.
When he trudged through the door, he’d stopped at the front desk, inquiring about any possible open rooms and receiving a “We’re sorry sir, we’re full for the night, can we refer you somewhere else?”
Louis shook his head, explaining he was just stopping by to visit someone unless they had a free room, at least they were polite. He punched the buttons on the elevator and knocking at Harry’s door a little too harshly. An oversized grin greeted him, along with a tight hug. Louis didn’t reciprocate, simply resting his head into Harry’s chest and relaxing slightly and revelling in how tall Harry was now. Harry pulled him in by the elbow, wet hair still hanging in front of his face.
“Sorry, I just got back from rehearsals,” Harry apologized, gesturing at his appearance and the clothes scattered around the room, options for the awards show laying out on the bed.
Louis shook his head, back collapsing on the bed, “I’m sure you’re in much better condition than I am right now.”
Harry sat down on the bed, managing to cross his legs in his skinny jeans, brushing Louis’ fringe off of his face, letting his hand linger around his cheeks for longer than necessary. Louis’ eyes drifted shut, breath evening. “Can I do anything for you.”
Louis smiled, tilting his head to look up at Harry, “No, I got it.”
“Do you want some food?” Harry offered anyway, “I’ve got some crips and chocolate.”
“Now that you mention it,” Louis winked, sitting up and shuffling to lean his back upon the mountain of pillows before ripping open his suitcase, sorting through to find his cell phone charger and maybe some advil. His stressed face returned, not able to find an adaptor or advil or tylenol or anything that could possibly relieve his headache.
“You can use mine,” Harry pointed to the white cord that was attached to the bottom of a lamp. He tossed back the bag of crisps, ripping open his package of twix candy bars.
And when Louis finally reached the Advil bottle, he shook it, realizing it was empty.
“Not your day, huh?” Harry turned back around, digging through his bag once again before tossing over some paracetamol.
“What is it?” Louis turned it over, scanning the packaging.
“Paracetamol,” Harry dug his arse back into the sheets, “Pain reliever.”
“You are a life saver,” Louis popped back the pills, dry. His phone hadn’t gained enough power yet to let him turn it back on. Harry’s arm drifted over his back, “Seriously, thank you.”
“It’s really not a problem Lou,” His hand clutched tight on Louis’ shoulder, clicking on the tele.
Louis allowed about three minutes to relax, before his phone burst back to life with text messages and missed phone calls. He let it go for a few minutes. “How did the rehearsal go then?”
“Great,” Harry nodded, chewing on their snack.
“Nervous?”
“Hell yeah,” He nodded again, “Biggest crowd I’ve ever performed for.”
“Live television,” Louis added and received a nudge in the gut.
“Stop it,” Harry refuted, “I’m nervous enough.”
“I’m kidding,” Louis rubbed his hand against Harry’s jeans, “I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”
“Hopefully,” Harry nodded, shaking his head and fidgeting with his hair. Louis reached up to replace a stray.
Louis busied himself, calling his manager and having a fierce conversation about the hotel ordeal, which had lead to some stuff about his clothes and hair dresser for the award ceremony the previous night and had flustered Louis even more.
“Lou,” Harry grasped at his elbow, thumbing over the crease in his arm, “You can stay here tonight, it’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Listen, Geoff and I were going to go to the Coldplay concert tonight, but he ended up bringing his wife down with him and they’re going out to dinner or something, so we can go and then come back here, it’s fine, really,” Harry insisted.
Louis rolled his head so that it rested on Harry’s shoulder, “I love Coldplay.”
“Good,” Harry smiled, patting at Louis’ stomach and glancing at his watch, “You should probably go shower.”
Louis mouth dropped in fake horror, “Are you implying that I smell?”
“I’m implying that,” Harry paused, fiddling with the bottom of Louis’ shirt, “If I’m going out with one of the most papparrazzi’d people on the planet, they better be looking good, preferably without greasy hair.”
This time Louis elbowed Harry in the stomach, “I take offense to that I’ll have you know.”
Harry grabbed at Louis’ hands as he walked past to the bathroom, pulling him down to face level, whispering awfully close to his lips, “I think you look amazing for just getting off a trans-Atlantic flight.”
Louis responded with a, “I think those jeans always look amazing on you.”
Harry let go of one of Louis hands, bracing the back of Louis neck to bring him down for a quick kiss, reaching the other to pinch at his ass, “Go shower.”
Louis nodded, managing to shed his shirt before reaching the bathroom. Harry listened as the waterfall turned to silence, and Louis shouted out of the bathroom, asking if he could grab him a pair of pants from his suitcase. Harry smirked, shuffling through, finding pairs in white, grey, and black. He decided on the black, topman written along the elastic band, flinging them at Louis’ head while he attempted to brush through his fringe.
Louis only grimaced for a second, wincing as they landed on his face and glancing at Harry’s cheeky smile as he leant against the doorframe, “You should go in that towel.”
Louis laughed, running one of the other towels through his hair, “Papz would have a field day with that.”
“I happen to think it’s a good look,” Harry disappeared from the doorway as Louis returned to fixing and drying his hair. When he returned to the room, digging through his bag Harry spoke up, “Wear the regular jeans and the navy sweater.”
Louis raised an eyebrow, pulling out what Harry suggested, and sliding the jeans up his legs, “Bossy, I like it.”
Harry slid to the end of the bed as Louis pulled the sweater carefully over his styled hair, swiping the fringe back into place, “Not bossy, I just think your arse looks good in those jeans.”
He watched as Louis rolled his eyes, hands reaching instinctively to clutch at his butt, “Don’t say that.”
“What?” Harry reached out, hooking a finger through the belt loops and tugging him closer.
“I have such a big ass.”
Harry shook his head, tugging Louis closer between his spread legs, “I happen to think your ass is lovely.”
Louis chuckled, shaking his own head, “Whatever.”
“Okay then fat ass, let’s go.” Harry grabbed his jacket from the chair on which he’d left it. Louis jumped on his back, reaching over to mess up his hair, to which Harry hissed at, not bothering to catch Louis’ legs and reaching back up to fix his mess of hair.
-
Harry insisted on taking the tube, turning the night into a full blown British extravaganza. Harry took charge, filling Louis a travelcard and swiping his own Oyster at the appropriate time. Louis watched, baffled as Harry navigated the rails easily, changing lines twice on their twenty minute ride.
Louis was pleasantly surprised as Marina and the Diamonds opened the gig, singing along to the lyrics with Harry. On the way back Harry took Louis on a tour through Piccadilly, stopping in an inappropriately packed McDonalds for a midnight snack.
The preceding night Louis won two awards and Harry performed and it was just like winning because, well because he got the opportunity to perform in front of god knows how many people. They had ended up at different tables but attending the same after party and getting a little tipsy but not drunk. Afterwards they’d stopped by Tesco, grabbing strawberry ice cream and fizzy drinks.
They’d curled up under the duvet, Louis pressing close to rid the goosebumps from his body and Harry running his big toe up and down Louis’ hairy leg. Louis fell asleep first, succombing to the overwhelming post-drinking fatigue, Harry not long after, adrenaline running him down sometime around two A.M.
Sometime the morning after Louis woke, nuzzling closer to the bare bicep that he rest his head upon. Harry slept much longer, mumbling in his sleep and incidentally blowing warm morning breath straight onto Louis’ face.
They left at the same time, Harry packing up his car to leave for Manchester, dropping Louis off at the airport on the way. They bid their farewells, not knowing exactly when they’d be able to see each other again but promising to keep in better contact.
-
Harry manage to book a gig at a very popular outdoor music festival in California in April, an afternoon slot on the first day. Louis already had tickets by the time Harry was booked.
Once again they meet up, Harry crashing with Louis a few nights before they had to leave, earning a stern glare and an interrogation from Geoff. Harry simply shrugged in response.
When he arrived at Louis’ house, who was at the recording studio but left a key under the mat, Harry had raided the pantry and decided that the amount of food was not suitable. So he grabbed the key and his phone and walked about twenty minutes to the nearest Italian market, buying cheese, sauce, tomato paste, a few cloves of garlic, beef, and lasagna noodles.
Just as he was laying the ingredients in a baking dish Louis arrived home, groaning at the smell and muttering an “I’m fucking starving, how long?”
Harry didn’t have any time to reply, his chin being pulled sideways and his neck pulled downwards. Louis reached up on his tiptoes, threading his fingers through Harry’s curls and sucking on his top lip. Harry licked for entrance, Louis’ jaw unhinging and sucking in a breath sloppily before their tongues intermingled. Harry’s hands dropped the ricotta, favoring the strip of skin where Louis’ shirt separated from his trousers.
After they gave up and Harry had allowed his breathing to lighten up, he announced, “Like, maybe an hour.”
“Perfect,” Louis draped his arms lazily around Harry’s waist while he finished laying the layers, glancing at the clock on the preheating oven, closing in around seven, “Just enough time for a shower, care to join?”
Harry’s hands gripped the edge of the glass, turning to slide the dish into one of the two ovens, Louis managing to maintain contact with him the whole time. He raised his hands to Louis’ cheeks, pulling him in for a light lingering kiss and whispering, “I was going to make cookies.”
And for a second it was like Louis melted into a puddle on the floor before separating from Harry’s arms and throwing his own up in a surrender, “I give up! You’re perfect.”
Harry blushed from his spot, wiping down the counter with a wet wash cloth and pulling out clean measuring cups for the sugar and flour aligned on the counter, “I’m not perfect.”
“Damn near!” Louis shouted on his way out, feet padding heavily against the cement floors of his own house.
Harry continued with his work, acting out of memory from his two and a half years experience earning a living at a university bakery. By the time he’d finished mixing the ingredients by hand, because he couldn’t find a beater, Louis had returned, wet hair swept back exposing his severe widow’s peak.
Harry began to scoop half spheres of dough with the ice cream scoop, depositing generous sized balls on the cookie sheet. Louis watched from a bar stool directly across from Harry, slicking his finger in the dough every once in a while, mostly for himself but occasionally letting Harry suck his finger clean.
About ten minutes later they had golden brown chocolate chip cookies and a hot lasagna cooling on the countertop. As Harry forked out portions, Louis set the table, disappearing for a few seconds and returning with a bottle of red wine and a cork screw. Harry watched as he unscrewed the cork, pouring generous amounts into two wine glasses and delivering them to the table while holding the base.
“Gonna be honest with ya,” Louis spoke as he pulled out his chair to sit down, “I’ve lived here two years and I don’t think I’ve ever sat down at the table for a proper dinner.”
“Well,” Harry swirled the wine in his glass, bringing it to his nose for a whiff before tasting it, “There’s a first time for everything, yeah?”
“Sure is,” Louis forked at his lasagna, scooping as much as possible at a time, “Are you going to go home before tour? Starts in like two weeks right.”
“I think I’m just gonna stay here,” Harry smiled at his plate, trying to keep his sauce to a relatively small surface area, “Have to be at rehearsals in a week anyway.”
“I bet you’re excited.”
“Nervous,” Harry nodded, “But nonetheless excited.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Louis continued with the small talk, chatting about the new album and how amazing it was and pestering Harry about his new record deal and how writing was going and how he expected to receive one of the first copies when he started to record the next album.
About an hour and a bottle of wine later, Harry’s cheeks were flushed pink, making him look utterly adorable with his mussed hair and slight giggles that he tried to cover with his hands. Louis had once again returned the conversation to Harry’s encroaching tour, laying out his plans for when he was going to visit, “So I was thinking, L.A. for sure, maybe San Diego too, we’ll be here recording and probably NYC cause Madison Square Garden is fucking huge and we can probably get the boys out, make a weekend out of it. One of my sisters has got a birthday coming up, they’ve been begging me to get them tickets so I thought I’d bring them out to D.C. if that’s… Harry are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m,” Harry shook his head, curls bouncing, “I’m fine.”
Louis’ eyes squinted, roaming his face and shoulders for expressions and body language, “It’s fine if you don’t want me to come.”
“It’s not that Louis,” He set his fork down, laying it in the proper diagonal across his plate, “It’s just, well, I don’t know, we’ve been seeing each other a lot.”
“Are you saying we should stop seeing each other?” Louis managed to squeak out.
“No, I’m not saying that at all,” Harry smiled southward at his plate, “It’s nice but, you know.”
“What?”
“Well, like, what’s our status? Fuck buddies?”
“I-” Louis stammered, “We don’t have to be fuck buddies.”
“I know but,” Harry tapped his fingers anxiously against the table, “It’s not that simple Lou.”
“But it is,” Louis dropped his own fork, “I like you, you like me, simple as that.”
“Louis,” Harry smoothed his fingers along the table, “I live across an ocean, I don’t do this sort of thing, paparazzi, hell my label doesn’t even know I’m gay.”
“Harry,” Louis shook his head, “We don’t have to make this public, at least not now. They don’t have anything to do with you being gay.”
“That doesn’t change the fact I live in England.”
Louis shook his head, with a smile on his face, “So what Harry? Live a little.”
-
And so he went along with it. Louis had tagged along for the festival, they’d attended other performances together after his own, carefully planning where to be at what time so as not to miss some of their favourite artists.
The tour kicked off in Detroit on May third, the first time Louis made an appearance backstage was a week and a half later in Los Angeles as predetermined. Harry had introduced Louis to the woman he was opening for, leaving early and crashing on Louis’ bed for the few days he would be there.
The next time they saw each other was two weeks after Harry left, he’d had a week off before he had to leave for Canada for a few days, Louis had flown up and they ventured to the Canadian side of Niagara falls for a few days.
Then was New York, Boston, and D.C., all within the vicinity of a week, which was really when people backstage started catching onto what was happening. Louis had attended Madison Square Garden with Niall and Liam, Harry flew Zayn out for the weekend and they’d acquainted themselves together quite nicely.
Louis slept on the bus from New York to Boston, confirming the obvious but nobody asking questions, and down to D.C. There they’d had about four days, Louis inviting Harry to stay with his mom and sisters.
The girls had pretty much tackled him upon his arrival in the sound and light management station in the middle of the stadium, where Louis had stationed himself with his mother and siblings, greeting him with a one armed half hug in the dark stadium.
Louis jumped around with his sisters, twirling the young ones while the oldest casually leaned against a railing, trying to look cool.
Afterwards Harry caught a ride with Louis once crowd control had died down, arriving at Louis’ childhood home long after everyone had hit the sack. Harry crawled into Louis’ hunter green childhood sheets with a hushed giggle as Louis’ hands trailed down his bare chest and flicked at his nipples.
The next morning they’d woken up to an empty house, Jay had left cereal on the counter but Louis pouted until Harry caved and made some pancakes with some mix from the pantry. It was Friday but Louis said he’d take Harry to the mall anyway.
Harry looked slightly adorkable posing by Abraham Lincoln in his too short navy shorts and extra long navy t-shirt and despite the appropriate clothing they’d returned home just after school got out, drenched in sweat from the hot and humid early June day. Lottie and Fizzy arrived home first, the high school and middle school ending a half hour earlier than the elementary school, but the party really started when the twins arrived, Harry’s accent being enough to entertain them for a few hours.
Jay’s boyfriend barbequed food in the heat, they didn’t eat until the sun had started to set and the temperature started to cool down. It was still much hotter than Harry was comfortable with but it was much more tolerable than the beating sun of one in the afternoon.
During dinner Jay had made the mistake of asking about Harry’s family, if he had any brothers or sisters. Louis had panicked, kicking his mother in the shin under the table in quite an unpolite manner, Harry played it off cooly, responding with an, “I have a sister, erm, and a brother in law.” Louis had managed to change the subject quick enough.
Later in the night he’d joined his mother in the kitchen to wash the plates after he’d sent Harry up for a shower, whispering all the dirty details to his mother and trying to hide it from his sisters. After the girls had gone to bed and Harry and Louis were sat on the sofa, comfortably watching a television program, Louis had risen for the bathroom and Jay quickly filled his spot, offering an apology and an, “I know I’m not your mother, nor could anyone ever replace that role, but if you ever need to talk I’ve got ears.”
Harry responded with a sincerely grateful tone, returning the hug of her outstretched arms as Louis returned, announcing he was bed ridden as well. Harry smiled and accepted his outstretched hand in effort to rid the couch of his butt. Jay wished them a good sleep and not to let the bed bugs bite, to which Louis rolled his eyes in response.
On Sunday Harry bade farewell, leaving Louis in D.C. and returning on his way to the south for the longer stretch of Louis-less tour. Nearly a month later Louis had meet with him in Oregon, another week off of tour before they were back on the road to Nashville.
In early September the last few nights of the tour were played in California. First in the bay area before San Diego and finishing with a bang up of four concerts in Los Angeles, the headliners home town. Louis attended the last two, missing the first two for work obligations.
On the last night Louis had hopped on Harry’s bus for one final ride back to a hotel post-concert. Unlike the night before, they’d planned accordingly to miss the paparazzi so that they wouldn’t get stalked to Harry’s hotel.
When they reached the hotel they’d unloaded from the bus at a back entrance to the hotel, Harry’s bags already in a room up the stairs. Louis had been giddy, and admittedly so had Harry, the success of the four and a half month tour coursing through his veins. Maybe had they not been so giddy, they wouldn’t have been so careless. Had the not gotten away with Louis pinning Harry against the exterior of the hotel that night, maybe they wouldn’t have repeated their actions.
Maybe two months later they wouldn’t have repeated the same thing upon Louis’ arrival at Harry’s new flat in London, sucking at each other’s necks in a dodgy parking lot behind the complex before they’d had the patience to make it upstairs.
And maybe if none of that had happened they wouldn’t have been surprised the next morning to see the title, “Boyband Three Direction’s Lone Gay Member Louis Tomlinson Caught Sucking Love Bites on Rising British Indie Star, Harry Style’s, Neck in London yesterday” on the front page of the Sun.